It was hours later when the grating sound of iron bars disturbed Harry. Having not bothered to light any of the floating candles, the room had grown dark and only dwindling embers remained in the fireplace.
Harry pushed himself up, bad mood souring as the door swung open. He glared at Dumbledore and Snape, opening his palm before they'd even crossed the threshold.
"My wand."
For a dreadful second, Harry's thought they would refuse. Snape walked deliberately slowly, footsteps echoing across the stone floor. He withdrew Harry's wand and placed it on the desk, alongside a bottle of the forbidden potion.
Before they could could change their minds, Harry was on his feet and across the room. He snatched it up and directed it straight at Snape. Black sparks shot from the end, magic crackling around him.
"Get out."
"Calm down, Potter." Snape sneered. "Before you hurt yourself-"
Harry's curse fired, black light flashing and striking forwards. It stopped short, dispersing in a loud crackle and bang, inches away from Snape.
Snape's eyes bulged, his lips half opened.
"Fifty points-"
"Severus," Dumbledore said, a warning edge to his voice. Dumbledore's arm was outstretched, wand held high to counter Harry's curse. He peered over his half moon glasses, sharing an equally unimpressed look towards Harry. "Harry, I would ask that you do not attack us again. Our actions were only to keep you safe."
A blind rage consumed Harry, another curse on the tip of his tongue. The already cold room plunged rapidly several degrees.
"That doesn't excuse it," Harry hissed.
"The Ministry must believe that you are not a threat, Potter," Snape retorted coldly. "Any defiance or hint that you are capable will only bring retaliation back onto yourself. Have you learnt nothing?"
Harry tilted his head, fingers tightening around his wand. A burning desire to destroy flooded through him, an acid taste in his mouth as he all but spat his next words.
"So I'm just expected to have to deal with a patronus any time the ministry come calling?"
Unfiltered disdain crossed Snape's expression.
"The consequences would have been far more severe if I had not demonstrated you are weak."
The fire, long since reduced to embers suddenly diminished. The room fell into a darkness, all light dissipating, leaving only a deep anger unrelated to any instability from dæmons. Ice started creeping across the floor directly from underneath Harry's feet, cracking as it coated the stone.
"I am not weak," Harry hissed, levelling his wand again. "Get out."
Dumbledore calmly removed his glasses to clear the frost that had started to cling to the surface.
"Harry, I ask for only a moment of your time. It is important that you to learn about recent developments, specially concerning your recent outbursts and temperamental changes...otherwise, I could not have allowed you to mix with other students."
"Why?" Harry demanded. "What's changed?"
He already knew the answer. His connection to Tom hadn't faltered once since the early hours of the morning.
"Severus spoke with Tom last night."
Harry flicked his eyes across to Snape, anger barely contained as the surroundings continued to manipulate to his will, ice cracking and breaking.
Snape seemed to take great pleasure in drawing out any explanation.
"Any fluctuations in your bond will stabilise...you will no longer be cut off from Tom in any capacity going forwards."
Harry couldn't help it. A rattling, shaky breath escaped him, the weight of terror lifting.
Everything would go back to how it should be.
"The Dark Lord had planned to remove you from Hogwarts via the Ministry. Tom was distorting your connection to deliberately cause you to slip up," Snape said.
An odd pounding reverberated through Harry's head, his voice coming out painfully quiet.
"Tom wouldn't-"
He would never have risked Harry's safety, not when there was only one result.
Snape crossed his arms, lips sneering.
"Tom killed Scrimgeour because he was an obstacle to those plans. The Minister would not have been able to arrest you otherwise."
The pounding was becoming louder and the Harry's vision swayed dangerously. He would not believe it.
"So why didn't he?" Harry said, throat strained. "Fudge wouldn't pass up the opportunity."
"It seems the Dark Lord changed his mind and as his influence remains strong over the Wizengamot they will not act."
A trickle of fear ran through Harry.
"Why?"
Dumbledore crossed the room and sat down at Harry's desk. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and sighed.
"It appears Tom made a deal with Lord Voldemort."
The hollow terror coursed through Harry, his body going strangely numb. The last time Harry had made a deal with a piece of Voldemort's soul he'd ended up demented. He glanced towards the window. It remained wide open, awaiting Hedwig's return.
"What deal?"
Dumbledore lowered his head. There was no twinkle in his eye.
"The details are not clear to us, however it does appear that Tom was reluctant to agree and guaranteeing your safety was paramount in his cooperation."
Of course Tom was coerced, had been from the start. The fact that no one seemed to realise that only made the darkness inside of him burn. He twisted around to confront Snape, the desperation failing to keep out of his voice.
"You need to get Tom out of there."
Snape's lips curled into a sneer but he didn't answer.
Dumbledore sighed heavily.
"Harry, you know that is not an option for us," he said. "However, I hope you understand that if circumstances change, and for whatever reasons you do manage to reunite with Tom, the Order of the Phoenix will be there for both of you."
Harry couldn't help it, an incredulous look crossed his face.
"You've as good as abandoned him. Remus told me there were people in the Order who would rather kill Tom on sight-"
Dumbledore raised his hand abruptly to cut him off.
"There are a few members, most notably those who are in the auror department, who will be less accommodating towards Tom-"
Tonks. Kingsley. Moody.
That was all that Harry needed to know.
"However," Dumbledore continued, his voice sharp. "They understand that the war is much bigger than their personal opinions on the matter. So I hope that if you do manage to reconnect with Tom, that you feel you can retreat under the safety of the Order."
So the Order would still do nothing. Would sooner leave Tom to suffer.
"Remove this thing from my ankle and I might consider it," Harry lied, gesturing to where the blue band lay hidden around his ankle.
Dumbledore smiled sadly.
"You know that's for your own protection, Harry."
It was no use. Despite what Sirius had insisted, the Order hadn't changed, could not be reasoned with. The only option was to blindly comply.
"And will you remove it when I'm old enough for the trace to break?"
The lack of a response was the only answer Harry needed. Dumbledore cleared his throat, a sad smile on his face.
"The other thing you should know Harry is that, for the most part, Dolores Umbridge believed the arrangements in place are satisfactory. She has however, recommended some improvements."
"What improvements?" Harry demanded through gritted teeth.
"It seems that for the short term you will be unable to attend your Defence Against the Dark Arts classes while your classmates learn the patronus charm," Dumbledore said. "In the interim, I will ask Professor Moody to teach you separately."
"Right. So now everyone's going to be able to attack me?"
"Defend themselves, Harry," Dumbledore corrected.
Harry didn't know what was worse. Students being armed and capable, or having private lessons with Moody.
"I would also like you to check in with Professor Snape at least once a week," Dumbledore said
"Umbridge wouldn't have suggested that," Harry said, voice rising as he jerked his hand in Snape's direction. "She's already convinced he's breathing down my neck every day."
Dumbledore nodded, his expression suddenly serious.
"I am concerned with the fact that both yourself and Sirius failed to mention that your connection to Tom had been disrupted," he said. "Particularly recognising the detrimental effect it had on you, Harry."
"So?" Harry said. "It's none of your business."
Any warmth in Dumbledore's expression disappeared.
"Harry, I have been more than accommodating in letting you stay with Sirius during the holidays, however I remain your legal guardian. Therefore, if you continue to hide things from me at the expense of your own safety, then I will not hesitate to remove any flexibility you have in leaving the castle. Do you understand?"
The cruel, amused look passed across Snape's face. Any time in the holidays would be under his supervision, would be worse if no one else was around. And Snape would only seek to make Harry's life as miserable as possible, only as a means to get back at Sirius.
Hot anger burned inside, the darkness coiling in the depths, desperate to erupt and claim his every waking thoughts. Harry stormed across the room, seised the door and tugged on it.
It didn't budge.
"I'm going to find Lyra," Harry bit out, hand still on the door handle. "If that's acceptable?"
He didn't want to look at either of them.
"Do you understand, Harry?" Dumbledore repeated calmly.
There was nothing he could do. Nothing but realise that Dumbledore would never let him be free. Would always make him suffer unless Harry took his own fate into his own hand.
"Perfectly, sir," Harry said, voice terribly calm and cold. There was only one way this would end.
There was a click and the latch of the door unlocked.
"I do ask you to respect curfew, Harry," Dumbledore said. "If the Minister realises how lenient our arrangements are then you may lose additional freedoms."
Without looking back, Harry left without another word.
Harry made his way through the castle, still seething. He dithered for a moment at the top of the grand staircase before finally deciding the climb up to Gryffindor tower was worth the effort.
Students lingered in the corridors, making their way back to their common rooms after their first day back. A group of fifth years walked past, protesting loudly about the amount of homework Professor McGonagall had given them, and a couple of lost first years nearly stopped to ask Harry for directions before realising their mistake and bolting.
The route to Gryffindor tower was otherwise quiet and Harry soon stood in front of the portrait of the fat lady. She was in the middle of a conversation with another witch who'd crammed herself into the same frame, and it took several attempts of shouting mimbulus mimbletonia before either of them acknowledged him.
The common room, which had been a buzz of activity, fell silent. Ignoring the disruption, Harry found Ron and Hermione sitting at a table in the corner.
Hermione had half a dozen books piled up in front of her. Ramiron was on the back of her chair, lazily watching Ron play chess with Dean Thomas. Sephronia balanced precariously on Ron's lap, barking instructions at the chess pieces. At the sight of Harry, Patroka slunk off Dean's lap to hide out of sight underneath the armchair.
Hermione beamed, setting down her potions book to clear a space at the already cramped table.
"You missed a really interesting Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, I made you a copy of all the notes."
"Thanks Hermione."
Harry didn't sit down. Ron's rook slid forwards and battered Dean's bishop off the table.
"Check," Sephronia announced happily.
A once, Dean's chess pieces started shouting and pointing up at him, gesturing at the other pieces he should move.
"That's game isn't it?" Dean said, glancing in Harry's direction.
"In a couple of moves," Ron corrected.
Dean knocked over his king, much to the dismay of all his little angry chess pieces.
"Good game. See you, Harry," Dean said. He gathered up Pakroka from behind the chair and waved a hasty goodbye.
Looking around to check no one was listening, Hermione lowered her voice.
"How did it go with Snape?"
Harry bit his tongue.
"Fine."
Ramiron and Sephronia glanced at each other, edging away slightly at the sharpness in Harry's tone.
"Any sign of Lyra?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his head, passing across a revealed maurader's map from his bag. He drew his wand and pointed it and one of the little broken chess pieces.
"No sign of her...I was checking between classes too and she's not appeared once."
"Right," Harry muttered, scanning his good eye over the hundreds of small names and footprints which were scattered across Hogwarts.
Fawkes was alone in Dumbledore's office. Laraine and Einaris were together in McGonagall's office, and Itzel was for some reason up near the Astronomy tower.
Lyra was no where to be seen.
"Thanks," Harry said, handing the map back.
Harry turned back in the direction of the fat ladies portrait.
"Aren't you going to stay awhile?" Hermione said. "Professor Moody wanted a foot written on the Unforgivable Curses by next lesson."
The last thing on Harry's mind was catching up on homework.
Instead he nodded at the clearly agitated dæmons in the common room. Those which could fly had retreated up in the recesses of the ceiling, and were currently perched a top the Gryffindor banners or on curtain poles. The smaller dæmons had disappeared from sight entirely.
"I better not. I'll see you later."
"I'll keep an eye out for her," Ron said.
Harry left Gryffindor tower at a loss at where to look next. The map covered a good area of the Hogwarts grounds, but it didn't cover all of it.
He set off at a brisk pace back through the corridors and in the direction of the grounds.
To make matters worse, he ran into Neville in the Entrance Hall.
"Harry, wait-"
Harry walked down the marble steps. The nearby candles flickered and died as he passed.
"I-I just wanted to explain-"
Neville hurried to catch up, following through the oak front doors. He didn't even stop as Harry started to walk out across the large expanse of grass.
"Harry-"
Harry spun on his heel, fury pulsing through his dead veins.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't just devour Cyrilla, Neville," he hissed. "Because I'm really struggling to think of one right now."
Neville froze and took a distinctive step back, gaze flicking back to the safety of the castle. Cyrilla trembled, and Harry almost wished she'd transform, just to make the decision easier.
"She didn't mean to-"
"I mean it. One reason, right now."
Cyrilla hopped behind Neville Harry watched her hauntingly, wondering how fast she could run.
With an desperate shake out his head, Neville raised his hands.
"Harry-"
The little light which shone from the castle revealed the colour draining from the other boys face, and the terrified protest caught in his throat. For a sudden wonderful moment, Harry felt a surge of temptation, unrelated to anything that Tom influenced. What he wouldn't give just to give in and not care for the consequences.
"My parents are in St Mungo's," Neville blurted out.
Cyrilla stomped her back legs, hopping further away to give herself as much as a head start as she could managed.
It didn't matter though.
A rush of despair consumed Harry, but it had nothing to do with the desire to devour Cyrilla. Instead Harry was left with a sudden rising hollowness. For a second he couldn't find his voice.
"What?"
Neville wrung his hands together, he looked miserable.
"I wanted to tell you earlier, specially after the attack on Azkaban, but-"
Harry didn't need to hear any more. All anger gone, he was left with his own traumatic memories of the hospital. Harry could hardly protest when he had reacted so viscerally to Hermione's telling of the past tournaments and the incidents which had followed.
"Neville, it's fine. I get it."
"But-"
Harry raised a decayed hand.
"Forget it. It's none of my business."
Neville looked down, clearly itching to say something but Harry had to get out of there. Even without Lyra he could see Cyrilla's agitation building. She wouldn't stay calm for much longer, and given how Harry hadn't tried to calm himself.
"Right," Neville said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I am sorry, Harry."
"Yeah," Harry said. "I'll speak to you later, Neville."
He turned and walked away briskly, aiming in the direction of the quidditch pitch.
The grounds were dark and despite the cool evening not bothering him, Harry couldn't stop the shiver running down his spine. His dead eye stared blindly into the night. Intrusive memories of St Mungo's disturbing his thoughts.
He skirted warily around the edge of the forest in the direction of Hagrid's hut. In the distance, he could see smoke rising from the small cabin but otherwise remained eager to avoid any proximity to Ilaria. The moon offered up some light across the grass, but it barely penetrated into the depths of the trees.
Lyra was known for venturing into the forest, often transforming and spending days soaring above its vast undergrowth. However, the more Harry lingered on its edge he had a feeling that Lyra had not left the castle. Sirius had hinted before that there were places which the map couldn't detect, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that she'd taken refuge in one of them.
Aside from searching every inch of the forest, or the deepest secrets of the castle, it was clear that Lyra didn't want to be found.
Harry returned to his room an hour later, feeling worse than before and hoping that Hedwig's luck had been better.
She was waiting for him on the windowsill.
"No sign?" Harry whispered.
She hooted and nipped his fingers. Then extended her leg to reveal a small piece of parchment that had been rolled up and tied to her leg.
The note did not improve Harry's mood. It was written in large loopy writing and read My office 9pm – Professor Moody.
Scrunching the parchment up, Harry chucked it into the fire. He watched the embers rekindle, smouldering as the parchment caught. This was the last thing he needed right now.
Rummaging in his trunk, Harry retrieved the ornate mirror and set it in front of him on the desk. His ashen expression reflected back at him. For a few seconds Harry said nothing. He sighed, the rattling breath misting up the glass.
"Sirius Black."
The seconds stretched by. Harry was just about to chuck it back into his trunk when the reflection shifted to show the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.
"Is this going to start becoming a regular occurrence?" Sirius said smiling.
Harry ran his hand through his patchy hair. Sirius was difficult to understand, but he always had the right answers.
"Just a lot's happened-"
"It's been less than 24 hours."
"Yeah well, the Minister came calling."
Sirius swore violently, then listened intently when Harry explained his day. At the end of it, he had pulled out his wand, and looked ready to march up to the castle himself.
"Next time I see Snivellus I'm going to hang him from the rafters and see how he likes being cursed," Sirius growled.
When Harry didn't react, Sirius leaned closer to he mirror, lowering his wand.
"Harry?"
An inexplicable guilt rushed through him and he looked away, not meeting Sirius' questioned gaze.
"Neville said his parents are in St Mungo's," Harry said quietly. "I didn't know that. I mean, I knew he was raised by his Grandmother but-"
"Ah," a horrible look of understanding crossed Sirius' gaunt face. "You probably have my darling cousin to thank for that," Sirius said.
Harry's dead veins went cold, his voice sounding suddenly hollow.
"You mean Bellatrix Lestrange put them in there?" he said.
"Mmm. It's not commonly known how she tortured them," Sirius said. "Most people assume it was the cruciatus curse, but she went far beyond that...she forcibly separated their dæmons from them...returned them before they could be lost completely...after a dozen times it's hard to image what that would do to a person."
Sirius sighed and ran a hand over his face. The tips of Mintaka's ears had wilted at the bottom of the frame.
"From what I've head, Alive Longbottom doesn't recognise her dæmon any more. They're together but she ignores him...believes he's nothing more than a pet. Keeps wanting to go and find her own dæmon again...Frank Longbottom I don't think faired much better...but not as much is known about his condition, or even if he still has his dæmon with him."
A hard, uncomfortable lump was forming in Harry's throat.
Neville's behaviour made sense now. It also explained what Neville had really wanted to ask him in the carriage.
"Bellatrix Lestrange was one of the Death Eaters that Tom freed."
Sirius' expression shifted at once to concern.
"That would certainly make me angry enough to do something stupid."
Harry shook his head.
"Neville wouldn't. Besides, he knows Tom...he probably just wants answers."
Sirius' frown deepened.
"Well just be careful. If everyone's going to start learning patronus' you might not be in the best position."
Harry shrugged, it didn't really change anything. Not when it was only one other thing to add to the list to worry about.
No.
What he really wanted desperately, more than anything else was to talk to Tom, and the possibility that the sorting hat might be able to help was all too real.
"I want to break into Dumbledore's office."
It was a testament of Sirius' trust that he didn't even blink and start asking him a barrage of questions. At the bottom of the mirror, Mintaka's ears twitched.
"We have an Order meeting this tonight," Sirius said. "Eleven o'clock. You should get a clear window of at least an hour."
"Will Moody and Snape be there?" Harry asked.
A brief flash of anger crossed Sirius face.
"Hopefully Snape will be," he added a few more choice words and then shook his head. "Not Moody though. Dumbledore will want someone to remain in the castle."
Harry was silent for a moment.
"Any idea how Moody's blue eye works?"
Sirius shrugged.
"It can't see through things, that's for sure. Otherwise he would have spotted me and Tom back when the shrieking shack was on fire."
"And Mintaka, he couldn't see her?"
"Well..." Sirius said slowly. "I was an animagis at the time if that matters."
Harry looked away, voice quiet.
"Yeah...it matters."
Sirius nodded, absently scratching Mintaka between her ears.
"I'll see what I can find out, Harry. But I certainly don't think he's got the same capability that you have...he'd be able to spot Death Eaters then wouldn't he?"
Harry looked up at this and nodded.
"Either way," Sirius continued. "Just be careful. Even if Moody isn't watching you, sneaking into Dumbledore's office isn't exactly easy...did I tell you about the time your father and I tried it?"
Harry listened, zoning out as he listened to Sirius' enthused voice. Maybe it wouldn't be too difficult after all.
Harry knocked on the Moody's office door at exactly nine o'clock.
There was a heavy clunk, clunk, clunk. Without Lyra, it was the only warning Harry got before Moody's office door yanked open to reveal the ex-auror supported on his gnarled, wooden leg.
"In you come, Potter," he grunted.
Harry stepped inside, watched cautiously as Moody closed and locked the door behind him.
Moody's office was a collection of odd contraptions. On the desk, a device spun rapidly, letting out small whizzing noises every few seconds and against the far wall a large glass object reflected odd humanoid shapes merging in and out of focus.
"Right." Moody tapped his wand sharply on the desk, his blue eye spinning wildly in its socket. "I've discussed it with Dumbledore, and he and I both think it's time you learnt how to fight properly. So it's my job to teach you how."
Harry blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
"You're going to teach me how to duel?"
"I'll be doing far more than that," Moody grunted. "No, you need proper training to make sure you can keep yourself alive."
Harry looked away.
"You believe the prophecy don't you?"
"I believe in a lot of things, but most of all I believe in being prepared. Now-" he hobbled across to his desk, opened a drawer and pulled out a jar which contained four large black spiders. "What do you know about illegal curses?"
Harry eyed the spiders warily.
"They're a one way ticket to Azkaban," Harry said, before adding. "Well...when it was still there."
Moody looked intently at Harry, his magical eye rolling to fix right on him.
"Know what they are?" Moody grunted. "I imagine you've probably encountered a few."
Harry couldn't tell from all the scars if Moody was smiling or grimacing. He shrugged.
"The imperious, cruciatus and killing curse are the Unforgivable Curses."
Moody nodded, and he opened the jar and scooped out one of the large black spiders. It scuttled across the desk and hid in between a couple of books.
"Good. Now, given you're going to end up in the middle of this war, you've got to learn, nothing more to it."
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Isn't this just giving the Ministry more reason to arrest me?"
Moody grinned and it was frightful. His cracked face and scars all the more prominent.
"You're far more dangerous than a few curses, Potter," Moody said. "When the day comes and you devour someone's dæmon, they'll wish you'd have killed them instead. No, you've got to be ready."
If Moody wasn't part of the Order, and Harry had some leverage should the retired auror immediately go to the Ministry he would have just walked out the door.
Moody either didn't notice or care for Harry's wariness.
"Now I imagine you've a lot of pent up anger, eh? You'll need more than that. You need to have the desire to hurt."
He drew his wand and raised it towards the spider.
"Crucio."
The spider began to twitch, its legs flailing and body shaking under the unseen torment. There was no relief as Moody held his wand perfectly calm, the spider left to his mercy.
"Pain," Moody said, finally raising his wand. "Pure and simple, not a lot more to it, but it's worse than any other torture."
The spider had curled its legs up to its body, but it didn't try to run away.
"Your turn, Potter. Although you better use this." Moody pulled another wand from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "The last thing we want is for Fudge to come snooping again, and best you don't go practising with your own wand. No, this is to remain strictly controlled until absolutely necessary."
Harry glanced at him, the point of that statement not lost on him.
"Now hold it straighter...that's right," Moody said. "You'll need to concentrate and remember, anger is superficial, you'll need to harness more than that to be successful."
The spider had regained some of its energy and had started to scuttle off towards the edge of the desk.
Beneath the surface, in that specific moment, Harry's anger was only towards Snape and Umbridge. But there was also an instinctual longing, the need and desire to recklessly destroy.
The spell slipped from the end of his tongue, so natural, as if it was a part of him. The darkness that was his very heart consumed his soul, flickered hungrily, eager for more and ready to consume whatever was in its path.
"Crucio."
The spider collapsed in on itself, twisting violently in horrible jerky movements. It was simultaneously disturbing and fascinating. The only outcome that was expected. A spell had never come that easily before. It was always Tom who was the natural, who was capable of achieving extraordinary. Harry had never had the same luxury and he relished it, his wand held straight and locked onto his prey.
"Enough."
Harry blinked, his surroundings suddenly coming back into focus. No longer engrossed by the spider, despite the simmering hunger for more.
Moody was looking at him with both eyes.
"That definitely the first time you've cast that spell, Potter?"
Harry lowered the wand, watching as the spider continued to twitch slightly.
"Tom didn't teach me, if that's what you think."
Moody grunted.
"Or you taught yourself."
"Then I would have deliberately failed on my first go," Harry said coolly.
Moody scooped the exhausted spider up off the desk and deposited it back into the jar with the others.
"That's enough of that one." Moody said. He drew a fresh spider out of the jar, and laid it on the table. "The imperious curse. Know what this one does?"
Harry nodded. Tom had used it on him once, right back at the start when he'd not long been demented.
"Nasty curse, very nasty curse. Certainly can cause a lot of trouble...now watch my wand movement carefully." Moody pointed and twisted his wand at the spider.
"Imperio."
The insect which had about to scuttle off, froze. Its legs seizing to a complete halt, before one by one began to tap against the desk.
"Complete control," Moody said while the spider started to dance in neat little circles. "Of course it can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how but first-"
He gestured to the spider which had began to dance across the desk.
For the second time, Harry raised his wand pointing it at the spider. The curse hummed throughout him as he almost whispered the incantation.
"Imperio."
An odd sensation tricked from the end of the wand, down into the spider. Startled, Harry twisted his wand, breaking the spell.
"It's an odd feeling isn't it?" Moody grunted. "Try again."
Harry took a rattling breath, settling himself as he raised his wand for a second time.
"Imperio."
This time he was prepared. The odd sensation returned, tingling through his fingers to connect with the spider. Dance, Harry thought. Move around on the table.
Just like Moody's example, the spider responded. It began to spin in smooth unnatural circles, occasionally hopping from foot to foot in a little dance.
The spell wasn't exactly difficult. There was far more finesse but it wasn't as straight forward as wishing someone pain.
"Good. Now try it on me," Moody said. "A spiders easy, but then you'll know what it's like to use it on someone who can fight it."
Harry released the spider and aimed straight at Moody's head.
Once again, the curse came easily. Slipping from the tip of his wand to link his mind directly with his target.
Jump onto the desk, Harry thought.
A resistance pulsed back across the curse. It was strange, like the spell had been cast but in reverse, pulsing back into the tip of his wand and into Harry's own mind.
Then there was a flash, and Harry barely dodged the stunning spell aimed at his head.
A horrible grin split onto Moody's face.
"Again. This time direct your will towards me. Convince me that your will is my own."
Harry tried again, yet it wasn't until the fifth time that he had any luck holding the curse for longer than a minute. Moody could still throw it off, but it didn't happen within the first few seconds at least.
"Better," Moody grunted. He hobbled across to his desk and took a swig from his hip flask. "There are plenty of people who can't fight it. Pick your target carefully. If you notice someone resisting then you have to be prepared."
Harry nodded, watching Moody's blue eye whizz in its socket, stopping briefly to focus on a cabinet in the far corner of his office.
"You'll know all about this next one," Moody grunted. And without any further explanation he reached into the glass jar, extracted another spider and raised his wand.
"Avada Kedavra."
There was a disturbance, a flash of green and the spider went completely motionless.
Harry didn't react, only tightened his fingers around the wand.
Moody extracted the last spider from the jar, which promptly started to scuttle away. With a quick spell, the spiders movement began to slow, so that escape was impossible.
"Powerful bit of magic to cast that spell, but go on Potter."
The curse itched on Harry's lips, the incarnation and flash of green clear in his mind. Just how Voldemort had killed his parents, how it had rebounded and struck him instead...and Harry had been gifted Tom-
Harry raised the wand. His voice was firm, unwavering, as if he already expected the result.
"Avada Kedavra."
There was a rush of something, a force unnatural and unknown.
Just like Moody's spider, this one rolled over, its twitching legs coming to an abrupt halt.
Moody surveyed him. He looked like he didn't know whether to be impressed or alarmed.
"Comes with the territory, eh?" he said quietly after awhile.
Harry didn't say anything. Tom had always theorised that because Harry was a dark creature some curses would come naturally to him. Harry just didn't expect it to be quite so literal.
The spider remained motionless. As if death had always claimed them.
"Right," Moody grunted. "Unfortunately, you'll probably need to use that one again."
He held out his hand, blue eye whizzing to stop very briefly on the same location in the corner before moving on rapidly.
Harry placed the wand on the desk, his own dead eye fixing on the same spot where Moody had been looking. Although he couldn't see Itzel, it was obvious she was there.
So Moody could certainly see his own dæmon. Perhaps Sirius was right...maybe Moody couldn't see other people's...he hadn't identified Mr Crouch as a Death Eater after all.
The wizard was certainly paranoid enough to pretend that his vision was omnipotent...that any other movement towards people's dæmons was a facade. But that wouldn't have fooled the Death Eaters, they would know from his silence that his gaze was limited.
At least that would make Harry's planned excursions for the night much easier. With or without Lyra, Moody wouldn't have any luck tracking him either way.
The band around Harry's leg itched, and he resisted the urge to bend down and tug on it. For a fleeting second he debated telling Moody about the imposter in exchange for removing it...but before he'd formed the idea he already dismissed it.
"Right, Potter," Moody said. "We'll leave it there tonight. Same time on Friday. I'll run through the basics of duelling and how not to get yourself killed. And we'll touch on how to fight the imperious curse the following week."
Harry nodded, keeping his gaze deliberately misaligned from Moody's.
"Yes, sir."