It was well before the crack of dawn, only hours before their return to Hogwarts, and Harry sat pushing around his uneaten porridge dejectedly. The article in the Daily Prophet had not appeared straight away, and despite Fudge's signature that permitted Harry to legally learn magic, leaving the safety of the Burrow was another thing entirely.
"If there's anything you can be certain about, it's Rita Skeeter getting a story out." Mr Weasley said, reaching across to grab the pumpkin juice. "I remember when we had a disastrous week, had a batch of violent teapots attacking muggles, twenty scolding accidents. We didn't hear the end of it for months-"
Harry was only half listening, his attention on Lyra who sat beside him. Her dust like light weaved around her in mesmerising patterns, making his chest ache all the more prominently. She wasn't protected without some sort of leverage, and it was becoming less and less likely by the hour that any future together at Hogwarts was possible.
One thing was certain.
Harry would not leave her behind.
There was a loud screech followed by a thud as Errol, the Weasley's grey owl flew into the half open window. Hedwig followed, coming to land far more elegantly on the windowsill.
"It's a bit early for the post," Mrs Weasley said, shooing Demetria and Celendia out of the way in order to retrieve a dishevelled Errol.
Harry watched warily, reluctant to see what Hedwig had delivered. It turned out however, that Errol's news was far less appealing.
"It's from Dumbledore," Mrs Weasley said, her expression torn as she unfolded the small piece of parchment. "He'll be collecting Harry directly in an hour."
"I'm not going," Harry said. He pushed his porridge away, making to leave the table.
Mr Weasley peered across at Hedwig who was waiting impatiently, eyeing the scraps of bacon left in the pan.
"I think that's a copy of today's prophet-"
Lyra's ears perked up and she scurried up Harry's arm and onto his shoulder. Harry got up far less willingly. He'd been checking the paper every day since, and he didn't have high hopes now.
Hedwig hooted in greeting as he unfastened and retrieved the daily prophet which was twice as big as usual. She bristled her feathers and flew across to join an exhausted Errol at the water bowl.
The title stretched across the whole page.
Peter Pettigrew Alive; Is Sirius Black innocent? and beneath that in equally large letters Potter Reunited With Dæmon.
A small piece of parchment was attached to the front with a handwritten message.
Thought you'd want an early copy – RS
Harry was almost delirious as he flicked to the next page to find a large picture of Lyra.
"She shouldn't have changed back," Ron said, leaning to have a look. "A lion is way cooler-"
Harry faltered slightly. Lyra had transformed back into being a pine marten at the first opportunity, which had resulted in Mrs Weasley casting a very ferocious patronus to counter his loss of control.
Lyra growled at Sephronia, but she only barked happily back.
"You should try roaring next time." Sephronia teased, which only made Lyra run down the back of Harry's shoulder and chase her under the table.
"Look," Ron pointed at a sentence at the bottom of the page, and read. "The Minister for Magic spoke to the Daily Prophet directly, to assure the public that everything is being done to support Mr Potter and his dæmon in their return to Hogwarts-"
Harry stared at the words, and re-read them twice.
"Fudge is saving face," Mr Weasley said. "He's been on the rampage ever since you left the Ministry. It got pretty ugly from what I believe-"
Harry lowered the paper and passed it across to Ron, who was promptly swarmed by Fred and George wanting a look.
"You didn't mention that?" Harry said.
"You had enough to be worrying about," Mr Weasley said, but he glanced sideways nervously at his wife before continuing. "Anyway, Scrimgeour nearly lost his job...probably would have done, but he's got too much respect, too many people who support his post...It's been a nasty business all round."
"Look here," Fred read in a hushed whisper, checking Mrs Weasley could not overhear. "Peter Pettrigrew was an unregistered animagic who faked his own death and hid for years under the guise of a pet rat in a wizarding family's home. I honestly thought you were joking-"
"Yeah," George added, with a glance at Ron. "We thought you were in denial for Scabbers dying or something."
They were interrupted by the clatter of hooves coming into the kitchen, followed by a yawning Ginny. Hermione was right behind with Ramiron tucked into her dressing gown.
Mrs Weasley rounded on them, whirling the frying pan around.
"Why aren't you dressed yet? You need to leave in half an hour." She started bustling about, putting more toast on the table. "Arthur, you should start loading the car up or you'll be late leaving."
Mr Weasley downed the rest of his pumpkin juice, grabbed one last slice of toast and flicked his wand, rising Fred and George's waiting trunks into the air.
Harry sat back down, feeling slightly numb. He was one step closer to taking Tom back.
Harry's return to Hogwarts was a horribly normal affair. The tower and his room had been rebuilt and refurnished, and it looked frustratingly exactly how he had left it. Everything was tauntingly the same, only emptier.
Lyra chose her favourite place almost immediately. She'd spend hours curled up either on Tom's pillow or on the fluffy rug by the fire. When Harry grew bored with his homework, he'd taken to watching her, half asleep and dust swirling lazily around.
Along with his classes, his lessons with Professor Lupin had restarted. Harry hated Lupin's new approach, which involved subjecting Lyra to Harry being demented.
"If you can master perfect control, stop yourself even when she does transform, then nothing will be able to tempt you," Lupin argued. "Push yourself to your limits."
Harry had stormed out on three occasions, and it was fast approaching his forth.
"I will not risk a single breath on her more than I need too," Harry snapped. Despite his efforts, the shadow roared to life, plunging the room into a deathly cold. He'd tried to take Sirius Black's advice to heart, knew that every stayed breath around Lyra was crucial to her long term survival, but in practice it was a lot harder than he'd actually first realised.
He blamed Professor Snape's lessons for that as well. The death eater took great pleasure in tormenting Harry now Tom had gone. Every exchange resulted in an argument and a demand for information about Tom, which Snape always gleefully refused. Instead occlumency had been cruel and unrelenting, with Snape tearing through any shield Harry managed to master.
The cold wintery weather lingered well into early spring and the shorter days blended together so that even having the capability to learn magic again, without having to sneak a wand from under the table, was lost to Harry. He'd been out of practice for too long, and the teachers spared no expense as they piled huge amounts of homework on him. Without Tom, Harry often had to turn to Hermione when he didn't understand some of the more complicated theories, or wasn't getting the wand movement or incantation correct.
Students and dæmons avoided him more than usual, skirting around in wide berths in the corridors and there was often an empty space beside him in classes. Despite his efforts, even Lyra would still spend time away from him. Every second was filled with the same aching absence and Harry was left to fall back under Tom's influence, his vision of all dæmons gone.
Harry found himself spending more time outside, away from the crowded corridors. He hadn't appreciated how suffocating the school could be when he was desperately trying not to aggravate his dæmon.
Currently, he was sitting out by the lake with Lyra curled up on his lap, and a text book about advanced duelling lying open on the grass. The light was dim, and the sun had just passed over the horizon.
Further around the bank at the waters edge, Neville Longbottom was crouched down with a bucket. He was pulling out miscellaneous underwater plants and holding them up to the light to examine them. Cyrilla was hopping around and chatting away enthusiastically. Occasionally, she would stick her head in the bucket to examine what Neville had found.
Harry looked back down at Lyra, his stomach tightening uncomfortably. She was so different from Tom, and Harry still didn't know if he was doing anything right.
"Can you speak?" Harry asked quietly. "Are you just choosing not to?"
Lyra stretched out in his lap unconcerned and yawned. She didn't say anything.
"I wouldn't mind if you were." Harry stared out across the lake, watching a lazy tentacle break the surface. "I just want to know-"
Lyra twisted her head to peer up at Harry. She opened her mouth-
Harry stayed a sharp intake of breath.
-and bit his finger.
"Ouch-" Harry yanked his hand away. He glared down at her, but she was already settling back down again with another yawn. Looking back towards Neville, Harry made an abrupt decision.
He stood, dislodging Lyra who yelped. She made a disgruntled growl but stopped almost immediately. Harry was already marching off alongside the lake and she scurried about to keep up.
Neville didn't see him approach, he was too busy scanning the bank, wading back and forth with a pair of secateurs. Cyrilla had her paws and head in the bucket again, looking at his latest discovery. On the ground next to her was a book titled Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs.
"Hi Neville," Harry said, trying to sound as friendly as he possibly could.
Neville jumped, kicking water into his wellies and dropping the odd looking plant he'd been examining with a splash. Cyrilla lunged away from the bank, knocking the bucket over and spilling water onto the ground. Harry watched her splintered bond, which was the exact same as his damaged link to Lyra. It stretched until Cyrilla could go no further without suffering the pain from separation. But she did not transform.
"I-" Neville started. He glanced frantically left and right to discover he was truly alone. Lyra approached the terrified rabbit and tried to brush against her in a typical friendly greeting.
Neville swallowed, chewed his lip and glanced in the direction of the castle. No one was coming to help. He waded back to the shore reluctantly, glancing across at where Lyra was still trying to calm Cyrilla.
"She came back then," Neville mumbled.
Harry pulled out the small carved stone from his pocket, his dead eye focused on Cyrilla.
"You said she would."
Neville lifted his head slightly, looking at the carved rune which Harry held open in his palm. Tom had made it for him years ago as a beacon for Lyra.
"I didn't think it helped much either at the time," Neville said, and he pulled from his pocket a circular orb which had an identical rune cut into the glass.
Harry turned his own over in his palm, its smooth edges oddly comforting.
"Why do you still have it?" Harry asked.
Neville shrugged, looking at his dæmon.
"She might leave again."
Cryilla thumped her feet, anger overcoming her fear.
Turning back to the lake, Harry hurled the stone as far and fast as he could. It soared through the air and splashed into the depths.
Neville mouth fell open, aghast.
"W-what about Tom?"
"I'll find Tom myself," Harry said coldly, and he gestured to the orb Neville was still holding. "It won't stop her leaving."
Neville didn't say anything. Cyrilla thumped her feet, and Lyra kept a cautious space between them. Harry watched them for a few seconds, unsure if Neville would actually be able to help.
"I had a few questions about your dæmon," he said.
Neville oddly didn't look surprised.
"I thought you might, can Lyra change form like Cyrilla then?"
Harry nodded, stuffing his hands into his pocket.
"She can't change though, otherwise-"
He trailed off, Neville didn't need reminding. The fearful look that crossed his face was indication enough that he was already remembering when Harry had last tried to attack him.
"I was wondering when Cyrilla left you?" Harry asked, hoping to distract him.
It certainly worked. Neville shivered and closed his eyes, and Harry didn't need to ask what his worst memory would be.
"I was five," Neville said quietly. "I spent two years in St Mungo's before she came back."
Harry opened his mouth in shock. His own stay seemed insignificant in comparison.
"Two years?" he breathed, trying desperately to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't imagine two years locked in that room, alone with no dæmon.
"Cyrilla hadn't appeared then, but she was still there," Neville continued, pressing his fingers to his chest. "She was inside of me and then suddenly she wasn't-"
"Inside of you?" Harry asked stunned. "How can a dæmon be inside a person?"
"The healers explained it at the time," Neville said. "It was because my soul hadn't fully developed into a physical form so not all of Cyrilla had left...or something like the part of her that formed had left, but I still had a piece of my soul inside me, the bit that would eventually form into the rest of Cyrilla. Does that make sense?"
Harry shrugged.
"I guess. Did you ever want to devour dæmons?"
Neville went deadly pale, his eyes widening slightly. He shook his head.
"So why were you stuck in St Mungo's?" Harry asked. "If you weren't dangerous?"
Neville looked distinctly unhappy. Cyrilla hopped up to his feet, but didn't come to offer him any comfort. When he didn't continue, Harry prompted him.
"Because they were scared an obscurus would form," he said quietly. At Harry's blank look Neville continued. "I thought Hermione might have told you...she asked me about Cryilla awhile ago-"
"What's an obscurus?"
Neville looked down at his hands, but he didn't answer.
Harry didn't push it, instead he shoved his hands into his pocket, dead eye drifting back to the two dæmons. He bit his lip, absent heart swirling in darkness as he dreaded the answer to the next question.
"Was there a time when Cyrilla didn't speak?"
"No," Neville said, and then realisation dawned. "I thought Lyra was just shy, I didn't realise she doesn't speak at all."
Disappointed and feeling completely hopeless, Harry nodded.
"Right, thanks anyway."
Lyra scurried back onto his shoulder.
Harry walked back up to the castle feeling worse than he did before. He debated circling back round to visit Hedwig in the owlery, even possibly send Sirius another letter if Scrimgeour still had no objections but ultimately he settled for heading back inside.
Students were already leaving dinner but Harry spotted Ramiron and Sephronia perched on one of the Gryffindor benches. Ron and Hermione were sitting opposite tucking into pudding. Lyra leapt up beside Sephronia and Ramiron, greeting them both with a squeak.
"Harry, I finished looking over your charms homework," Hermione said at once, "It's not bad, you just need to flesh out the last two paragraphs, and rewrite a couple of sentences in the middle about tickling charms, I marked it all up for you."
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, taking the parchment and shoving it in his pocket.
"It must be a nightmare not having Tom do your homework for you," Ron said. "I bet he didn't even have to spend hours in the library."
"Tom always made me do it anyway," Harry said with a shrug. "He said I wouldn't learn anything if I just got him to do it the whole time."
"He was quite right too," Hermione said. "If you wanted help catching up with the Lapifors spell-"
"Yeah," Harry said without thinking. "Maybe tomorrow."
He watched Sephronia and Ramiron talk amongst themselves. Their heads were pressed together and they were whispering excitedly to one an other with Lyra interjecting and responding in her own squeaks and growls. Would he just have to settle for never being able to understand her? The thought was harrowing.
"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked, he glanced nervously up at the night's sky replicated on the Great Hall's ceiling. "I think you're making the stars go out."
Sure enough, a darkness was masking over the great hall. Nearby dæmons were scurrying over around restlessly to press into their humans. The vast majority of people had stopped eating and were staring ahead blankly.
"Oh, sorry-"
Harry redoubled his concentration and he visibly saw Lyra, Sephronia and Ramiron relax. He glanced up at the ceiling.
"Last time I did that-"
He trailed off. The last time had been when Riddle had got to Lyra. He didn't feel as shocked or as terrified as last time so the fact that his emotions were creeping out when he wasn't noticing.
"You're probably just tired," Hermione said. "You keep saying your lessons with Professor's Snape and Lupin are pushing you."
Lyra nipped his fingers affectionately, letting Harry pulled his fingers through her fur.
"I guess," he muttered. Every interaction was now the extreme, either Snape breaking into his mind repeatedly despite how well Harry could initially resist, and Lupin insisting again and again to embrace his monstrous side to better understand it.
"It's becoming more natural to you, I bet," Ron said, still glancing at the ceiling as he stars began to reappear. "Like it's a part of you, as opposed to something you have to fight against."
"Is that a good thing?" Harry asked.
"It sounds like exactly what the Professor's expect of you," Hermione said. "Although, perhaps you just need to learn not to project as much."
"What do you think I've been doing?" Harry snapped, stabbing his fork into his untouched food.
Hermione's face dropped and Ramiron buried himself into her jumper. Her expression remained stiff, as she was sunk into a clearly unpleasant memory. Before Harry could apologise and take it back, Hermione gathered up Ramiron and hurried up and away from the table.
"I better-" Ron started, pulling an apologetic look at Harry.
"Go ahead," Harry said glumly.
Ron took off with Sephronia at his heels. Harry noticed Lyra watching him, nose twitching.
"I know," he said, and ran his hand through his patchy hair. He'd wanted to ask Hermione about what an obscurus was but he'd have to try again later.
As the end of spring encroached, the warmer weather descended and the Hogwarts grounds found themselves filled to the brim with students lazying around, finishing last minutes homework down by the lake, or even just sleeping under what little shade they could find.
A dozen or so people had raided the school broom closest and were racing up and down the quidditch pitch while the Ravenclaw captain yelled at them to clear off while their team practised.
Harry and Draco had taken to one end of the pitch, avoiding all the commotion as they flew back and forth tossing a ball back and forth between each other.
They had just been discussing Harry's latest failure at leaving the castle. Draco had sneaked in a packet of floo powder. The end result had been a fiery mess as the empty office they had been testing had resulted in more than the fireplace setting alight. Draco had fortunately managed to salvage the office with a jet of water from his wand.
Otherwise, shy of flying away on his broom, Harry had tried everything he could think of.
He eyed the sky warily, but he didn't fly any higher. The barriers that had been placed around The Burrow had been impenetrable, and Lupin had assured Harry that Hogwarts was just as well, if not more protected.
It's not that he was ready to steal Tom back, far from it. It was going to take time to learn some useful magic, but Harry needed to know a way out of the castle for when the time came.
He glanced in the direction of the edge of the grounds. The quidditch stands blocked his view, but he knew a number of dementors still patrolled against the threat of Lord Voldemort. Harry half suspected they were partly there to stop him from leaving too.
His only other option was the pathway under the shrieking shack and the route to Hogsmeade but they had since been blocked and sealed, which Harry harboured the suspicion that Lupin had something to do with it.
And to make matters worse, Draco could tell him nothing of Tom.
"I haven't heard from my fathers in months," he said, as they soared around on their broom, passing a ball back and forth between each other.
They flew relatively close to the ground so that Lyra and Adara could run about underneath them, catching any stray balls they dropped.
"If you do, can you let me know?" Harry asked.
"As long as I'm not spilling the Dark Lords secrets," Draco said. "If anything gets back to Dumbledore-"
There was a flash of despair.
"I was joking-" Draco gasped, his hands tightening to stop himself slipping from his broom further.
The coldness did not retreat as Harry twisted his broom around. Down on the ground the two dæmons had gone very still, pressing themselves to the ground to make themselves appear smaller.
"I'm not here because I have a choice," Harry hissed.
Draco regarded him, still clutching his chest as he was flooded back his darkest memories. He seemed to be debating whether to speak, and at Harry's thunderous stare he finally relented.
"You would join the Dark Lord?"
Harry paused, tilting his head.
"That's not a choice either."
Draco's lips were tight together, his face terribly pale. He nodded his head once, and Harry relented. Warmth returned to the surroundings and the dæmons below began to move again.
"I think my father expects me to join."
Draco's voice was very quiet.
Harry threw the ball back to him, and Draco caught it but he seemed uninterested in throwing it back. Circling his broom around, Harry pulled up beside him.
"Surely it'll be years before you have to worry about that?" Harry said.
Draco shrugged, and Adara pawed nervously on the ground below.
Each day seemed to stretch on forever and simultaneously blend together. A couple of years felt an age away, when everything would be different, and there would be no knowing what decisions would matter. There was only one event which Harry waited for with a twisted anticipation, and it arrived far quicker than he'd expected.
Harry lent against the stone wall watching Lyra pace back and forth. Every now and then she would stop, ears twitching nervously before she resumed her path across the floor.
Beside Harry, Tonks had just as little patience. Corin wasn't pacing but was instead thumbing his large feet on the ground, occasionally looking up at Tonks as if daring her to object.
"It can't be too much longer?" she said. "I thought the verdict was a given."
Harry turned his attention to the dæmons on the other side of the door. Mintaka was sat perfectly still, ears pointed and twisting to whoever was talking. She looked more faded and wispy than before.
The other dæmons, who had spent most of the proceedings shifting restlessly, had suddenly become very still, their attention fixed towards the centre of the room.
"I think they're almost done," Harry answered.
There was a pause where nothing seemed to move. Every particle slowed, and Harry's breath caught slightly at the stillness.
Then the moment passed. Everything burst back into life as dæmons began fluttering, barking, scurrying around at the commotion. Harry's eye focused back onto Mintaka, but she had been the one dæmon amongst the crowd that remained lifeless.
The heavy courtroom door opened and a group of aurors and their dæmons emerged. They escorted a very short man, hardly taller than Harry. His thin, colourless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. His eyes were wide and fearful as they darted back and forth. Another auror followed, holding a small metal cage where a rat dæmon scrabbled, hissing and biting at the bars.
Harry watched as the group departed down the corridor.
"Does he remember anything?" he asked.
Tonks shrugged as her jack rabbit hopped around her foot.
"Bits and pieces. Pettigrew has been merged with his dæmons for years there's bound to be lasting damage. He reacts to certain stimulus, Sirius Black's name for example, he panics a lot when he hears that. In any case it'll be the secure wing of St Mungo's for him," Tonks said. "Ideally, he'll be moved to Azkaban, but that could take years."
Further commotion was occurring within the court room. Now the heavy doors where open, Harry could hear a babble of angry and loud voices.
"Come on," Tonks said. "Let's see what happened."
They entered to find a buzz of activity, Harry relishing the surrounding dæmons but he held off a tempting breath.
Across the room, Professor Lupin was speaking to Mr and Mrs Weasley. Niamh, her true form unhidden to Harry, towered over the other dæmons in the room. The giant liaisons which had cut across her body had healed into rough, distorted scars, only making the werewolf look more terrifying than before. Professor Dumbledore was in discussions with the Minister, which Harry was grateful that he could avoid the pair of them. There was only person he wanted to speak too.
Sirius hadn't moved from the centre of the room. He was rubbing his wrists and standing in front of the chair which he'd been shackled to only moments before.
Dæmons parted as Harry approached, leaving him a clear path to come up beside him.
"Innocent?" Harry asked.
Sirius nodded, but there wasn't a shred of a smile on his face.
"What about being an unregistered animagis?" Harry said.
Sirius shrugged.
"They've deemed I've served that punishment, so no charges."
Lyra moved around Mintaka in tight circles, jumping up and trying to engage the dæmon in celebration. The dog however, looked exhausted. Each strand of light was bleeding outwards without anything to stem the flow.
Sirius noticed him staring.
"She'll be okay," he said, crouching down to tease his fingers through her mattered fur. "We'll be okay," he added when Harry looked at him sceptically.
"Couldn't you just transform?" Harry asked.
Sirius shook his head, reluctantly pulling away from his dæmon.
"It's not worth it, the dementors are bad but if I got stuck-" his expression darkened. "Anyway, you saw Peter. There's nothing of him left, not really."
Harry nodded. At least after today, Sirius would no longer be guarded by dementors. Mintaka didn't look like she could take much more exposure.
There was a silence and Harry watched the dæmon warily. How could Sirius ever want to be near him-
"I spoke to Dumbledore," Sirius said, as if knowing what Harry was thinking. "He refused to relinquish guardianship over you."
Harry straightened up, and Lyra paused from where she was darting between Mintaka and the court benches. The shadow curled within his veins.
"I didn't know you were going to ask."
A dark expression crossed Sirius' face.
"I'm your Godfather, of course I was going to ask, but Dumbledore doesn't want to risk you falling back into the Ministry's hands. He thinks that if I challenge his authority then that will give Fudge an opening. So he's agreed to be flexible-"
Harry's stomach did a horrible sort of flip.
"What does that even mean?"
And this time a rough smile tugged at Sirius' mouth, but his eyes remained steeled.
"It means that I'll be your guardian in every sense but the paperwork. You can can come and live with me- if you want?"
Lyra jumped to life at this, slipping off the bench to embrace Mintaka who brushed her head against hers.
Harry however didn't move. Instead he clenched his fists and took a harrowed breath.
"You mean, away from Dumbledore?"
Sirius nodded.
"If that's what you want, for the holidays at least. My home is very good at keeping unwanted people out."
"And keeping people in?" Harry asked.
Sirius ran his hand over his face.
"Dumbledore wants you to stay put."
Harry didn't say anything. Finding Tom was going to be impossible.
"Unfortunately, I think it's the best you're going to get," Sirius said. "He was quite insistent that you can't go wandering."
Harry paused, eyeing Sirius with surprise.
"You think I should go to Voldemort?" he asked.
"Of course not," Sirius said gruffly. "But I certainly wouldn't go to the lengths Dumbledore is to keep you put, not now, given the state of things-" Sirius suddenly fell quiet and Mintaka went very still in anticipation.
After a few seconds of silence, as if coming to an abrupt decision he jerked his head away from the crowd. Harry followed him to the recesses of the courtroom. A few dæmons looked in their direction, eyes keen to not loose track of Harry but otherwise they were left alone.
Sirius lowered his voice so that Harry had to lean in slightly to hear.
"You deserve to know the truth," Sirius whispered. "I wanted to tell you sooner- you can't go forward not knowing-"
"Not knowing what?" Harry said, thoughts spinning wildly. Lyra leapt up onto his shoulder, eager to hear.
"Dumbledore," Sirius said, his voice oddly hard. "Doesn't want you to think you could ever have a home with the Dark Lord. He wants you to believe your only option is to remain as far from Voldemort as possible-"
Harry blinked at this, not sure whether to laugh at the absurdity.
"Voldemort's made it very clear from the start that he wants me dead-"
Sirius glanced back to check they were still alone. Lyra could not stay still, she scurried back and forth, claws scratching into Harry's decayed skin.
"Listen to me, Harry." Sirius grasped Harry's shoulder painfully tight. "Riddle said something in the Shrieking Shack, he told me that Voldemort needs you for something, and apparently Snape's been hinting similar things to the Order for the past few months. And it all points to the same thing, that for some reason Voldemort has changed his mind. He now needs you alive more than anything-"
Harry could barely believe what he was hearing. Sparing his life was the one thing that would have gained Tom's loyalty to Voldemort right from the beginning.
"The important thing," Sirius continued briskly. "Is that you can take advantage of this. Voldemort's demanded that Snape ensures you master occlumency, that you become as stable and in control as possible, Dumbledore-"
But there were other issues that Harry needed to address. He swallowed, trying to withhold his rising anger as he cut across Sirius.
"He thinks I'll join Voldemort."
There was a seconds pause before Sirius nodded, expression shadowed.
"Dumbledore wants to convince you not to seek out Tom, he intends to show you something that will do just that- it's hidden here, deep in the Department of Mysteries."
A sudden chill crept around them as Harry remembered the Silver Guillotine. Not that it was any use now, could not frighten him in the same way but still the lingering horror of the contraption remained.
"Nothing will stop me finding Tom," Harry said coolly.
"I know that-" Sirius glanced around once more as Harry waited impatiently. "Harry, there's a reason Voldemort attacked your family...a reason why he tried to kill you as a baby...that's what's hidden-"
Harry breathed in sharply, taking in slightly more than air from his surroundings. He hadn't expected that. Mintaka whined and retreated against the wall, claws scrapping across the stone floor. Sirius briefly shut his eyes, horrific memories clearly being pulled to the front of his awareness.
"I don't understand-"
"Stop-"
It was Mintaka. She looked desperate to flee, but Sirius was determined, and he clasped Harry's shoulder tighter, forcing himself to go on.
"There was a prophecy made shortly before you were born," Sirius whispered hurriedly. "It says that you will have the power to conquer the Dark Lord, that you will be the one to destroy him-"
Harry sucked in another tight breath, sinking the corridor further into cold. Mintaka howled now, and she shivered violently, coiling into herself.
Sirius ignored her.
"Voldemort believes that you are prophesied to destroy him, but if something has changed his mind then it has to be significant. For him to go against everything he had acted on before-"
"How can I be prophesied to destroy Voldemort?" Harry asked, his voice catching slightly. His chest hurt. Lyra made a quiet squeaking noise.
Harry closed his eyes.
"What about Tom-"
Sirius surveyed Harry carefully, but he didn't answer.
Harry slumped against the wall. Lyra remained still by his feet, her small body frozen in terror.
"They are not the same," Harry said, almost to convince himself.
"It might not mean what you think," Sirius said. "If anything happened to Tom at Voldemort's expense, would you envisage any other way it could end?"
Harry shot Sirius a cold stare at this. He knew the answer, but it pained him to think of it.
"That isn't any better? Either way if something happens to Tom- " Harry hissed. "I would never let it ever get that far."
"Tom might be able to survive without Voldemort," Sirius said. "If he's attached to you-"
That earned Sirius another glare.
"I will never take that risk," Harry said.
Sirius regarded him carefully, he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. Finally he straightened up, letting go of Harry's shoulder.
"If Voldemort has chosen to disregard the prophecy, then you should to," he said. "Do not let Dumbledore sway you with it."
Harry shook his head.
"What's stopping Voldemort killing me as soon as I've achieved what he needs me for?" he asked quietly. Dumbledore was right. "It doesn't change anything, not really."
Sirius ran his hand through his hair, his expression twisted and he lowered his voice even more.
"I don't know about that. Riddle implied it was important-"
The darkness pulsed.
"What exactly did he say?" Harry asked, throat dry.
"He was talking about restoring dæmons, I don't know exactly what he meant-"
Sirius trailed off abruptly. Across the courtroom, Professor Dumbledore had pulled himself away from talking to the Minister and was making his way towards them.
"You haven't told anyone about this, have you?" Harry whispered.
Sirius shook his head.
"I don't think Snape knows either, or if he does, he's deliberately not telling the Order."
Harry was silent, thoughts churning. Restoring dæmons didn't make any sense, not when he was involved at least. Harry only devoured.
Lyra pressed up against him, trying to offer some comfort in all this confusion. Harry moved his fingers to stroke through her fur as he tried to understand.
"Why you're telling me this?" he said at last. "I thought you didn't want me to go to Voldemort, but everything you're saying is telling me otherwise?"
Sirius frowned, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"I know you have no desire to join Voldemort," he said. "But it'll be easier to take Tom back if Voldemort thinks otherwise."
Harry's mouth parted slightly, good eye widening.
"You think I should deceive Voldemort?"
Sirius' expression was deadly still, but he eyes flicked across to the crowd.
"You have something the Dark Lord wants, and he has something you want," he said. "I may have been a Gryffindor but my whole family were Slytherin's to the rotten core and you could say bits of them unfortunately rubbed off on me."
"I also owe Tom my life." Sirius added with a shrug, voice indifferent. "Several times over, if that matters to you."
Harry stared at Sirius, but he had no opportunity to respond.
Dumbledore was crossing the courtroom, weaving past the last few witches, wizards and dæmons that scattered the room.
Sirius squeezed Harry's shoulder briefly.
"Don't forget what I told you."
Harry nodded numbly. Sirius inclined his head once to Dumbledore before turning and blending himself into the crowd.
Instinctively, Harry crossed his arms, letting Lyra jump from his shoulder as she made to place more distance between herself and the approaching wizard. She bared her teeth, demonstrating Harry's displeasure at being interrupted.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, nodding his head in greeting. Fawkes was perched on his shoulder, but he was looking more ruffled and tired than usual. His light was dull in comparison to a lot of other dæmons in the room.
Harry shoved his hands into his pocket, eyeing the phoenix warily.
"What's wrong with your dæmon?"
He didn't expect Dumbledore to answer him honestly.
"Fawkes has been away undertaking a number of errands for me," Dumbedore said. "He had been away too long, and merely needs to rest."
Which meant Order business. Lupin had filled Harry in on a few bits of information, mostly where Tom was concerned, but in general Harry didn't know what they were currently up to, aside from infiltrating the Ministry.
"As much as I hate to pull you away from time with Sirius, we have other business to attend to." Dumbledore gestured for Harry to follow him from the courtroom. "And then the Minister would like to speak to you."
"I don't want to speak to him," Harry said coolly. "Can't I just go back to school?"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"It is important you appease the Minister, Harry. He will need to be convinced you do not support Lord Voldemort."
"Why does it matter?" Harry said. "It's not like I can leave."
There was no twinkle in Dumbledore's eye. He paused, twisting in his step to look down at Harry.
"You don't need to be a Death Eater to end up in Azkaban," he said. "Any support towards Lord Voldemort will not be tolerated."
Harry couldn't help it. He laughed.
"Is this Fudge's latest excuse to try and lock me up?"
"There are few reasons why he hasn't done so already," Dumbledore said, his voice a little colder than usual. "I am however, about to show you one of them."
Ahead was a plain black door, one Harry had never been through before. Waiting outside was a wizard with a grasshopper dæmon.
"Broderick Bode," Dumbledore introduced. "He's an unspeakable, and our guide into the Department of Mysteries."
Harry raised his chin defiantly, and Lyra mirrored his actions. Shifting onto Harry's right shoulder as she growled.
"Sirius told me about the prophecy," he said.
"Ah-" Dumbledore said and he tugged a hand over his long beard. After a seconds pause, where Harry was sure Sirius was about to be berated, Dumbledore only nodded. "I suppose it will make this easier then."
Bode was a man of few words, and he merely grunted before leading them through the black door and into a room that was equally decorated. It was a large, circular room, with numerous handleless doors which led off in every direction.
"So Fudge wants me to fight Voldemort?" Harry asked.
The circular room began to rotate, the only indication was the blue candles which began to move sideways, twisting at a rapid pace until suddenly everything came to an abrupt stop.
The door behind them no longer led to the exit, and Harry couldn't help but shift slightly, his hand gripping tightly around his wand.
Bode however, stepped towards a completely unmarked door and opened it. A beautiful, dancing light glittered into the dark circular room.
"The Minister hopes you can be persuaded," Dumbledore said. "Given you have spoken to Rita Skeeter on a number of occasions, I believe he was hoping you'd give a public statement on the matter."
Harry nearly turned around then and there. His anger raged to the surface, but as he spun on his heel he was left staring at the dozen of plain black unmarked doors with no clue to which was the exit.
Ignoring them, Bode proceeded into the narrow room.
"Why would I do anything of the sort?" Harry snapped.
Dumbledore stepped to follow Bode, leaving the only option for Harry as to follow.
"Tom did so previously, I don't think it's too out of the question for Cornelius Fudge to think you would mirror his sentiments."
"That was different," Harry muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked.
They passed through a long thin room. Several desks and bookcases lined the room, all lit by a large crystal bell jar that stood at the end of the room. Harry had no opportunity to inspect the device as Bode walked right up to another door.
The next room reached high into the darkness, and it was full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered in the darkness, barely lighting up the hall. Bode stepped forwards, his footsteps echoing into the depths.
They passed rows upon rows of shelves, each one which must have had hundreds of secret prophesies sitting upon. Bode came to a halt at the end of row ninety-seven.
"Down the far end," he said.
Dumbledore thanked him, and gestured for Harry to take the lead.
The small orbs glowed softly, offering no light. Harry's dead eye was completely blind, there were no dæmons anywhere close to wherever the spinning circular door had put them, even glancing upwards, the distant lights dæmons up above did not appear.
A wide range of dates and names were etched into brass plaques which sat beneath every prophesy. Harry walked slowly, reading and pausing when the layers of dust were too thick. He approached a few, rubbing his jumper across a couple before moving on.
On his shoulder, Lyra suddenly shifted, ears perking upwards. Harry's feet trailed to a halt and let out a long rattling breath. One of the small glass spheres had Harry's name etched in thin letters and a date some fourteen years previously.
Harry stared at it, but made no movement to take it.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"Only those who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, are those about whom it was made."
Lyra scurried down into his jacket so that her nose was left poking above the hemline.
"Don't think this changes anything," Harry said, and he reached forwards and grasped the small glowing orb.
Two years later - 1 st September 1996
The smoke billowed across Platform 9 ¾ casting it in a dim shadow. Dæmons shone brightly through the mist as Harry weaved his way through the heaving platform. He passed between the crowds easily, dæmons flinching out out of his path as soon as they saw him, their owners saying hurried goodbye to their parents as they nervously eyed which compartment Harry might enter.
Harry ignored them, coming to a halt near the back of the carriages. He really didn't want to get on the train.
Sirius, a few steps behind, floated Harry's trunk along and deposited it on platform with a thud.
"Where's Lyra?" Sirius asked, squinting through the smoke.
Harry shrugged as Mintaka prowled around them. Lyra was probably on the train already. She wasn't so far away that his sight of dæmons was hidden, but the sheer quantity of them made it impossible to immediately locate her.
Instead Harry glanced over to where Kingsley and Amabel, his lynx dæmon, were shadowing him. Amabel was watching Harry with a relentless intensity, unlike Kingsley who was looking down the platform with his fingers curled around his wand. Harry knew that down the the platform, there were half a dozen aurors scattered about, for the sole purpose of his presence alone.
"One more year," Sirius said, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "Then the ministry can't watch you any longer."
"That doesn't mean they won't," Harry said, shooting an annoyed glance back to Kingsley.
Sirius looked grim.
"True, but it means that if you suddenly disappear-"
Harry couldn't help but let his mouth twitch into a thin smile. As soon as he lost the trace, all he had to do was slip away. Not even the Order or the Ministry could stop him.
"Just make sure you don't end up in Azkaban," Sirius said. "I can't really recommend it, the service is terrible."
Harry was only half listening. His attention was on the hundreds of souls that swarmed the platform. It had been a long summer, with only a faded Mintaka and Lyra for company.
"I'll stay out of trouble."
Sirius gave him a sharp look at this.
"Harry, I mean it. If you find Tom, harbouring a dangerous criminal isn't going to do you any favours."
The smile slipped off Harry's face, thoughts racing to the latest Death Eater attack.
"Don't worry about me, Sirius. I'll deal with Tom when I find him."
A/N:
So ends third year...and forth and fifth (i.e. the end of Part 1, Bound by Souls). If you're still reading – THANK YOU. This is where the real fun begins.
The rest of the story will continue in Part 2, Bound by Souls - Restoration. I think you'll all like sixth year, I've had it planned since I started writing this story and I'm excited to FINALLY share it with you.
I want to also extend a special THANK YOU to everyone who has left a review – each one really keeps me motivated. This story has only got this far because of you and your lovely encouragement.