A dense mist occupied the train cabin. It seeped across the wooden floor and dispersed throughout the room. Snape had disappeared minutes ago but Harry remained perfectly still, listening, watching and waiting.
Outside waves lapped against the wheels of the Hogwarts express. Trees and foliage swayed, rustling in the wind. From the view of the lakeside and the dense thicket hiding the steep path up to the castle, it was not clear if anyone had ascended the path.
Harry let out a slow rattling breath.
There was no chance Snape would spend his evening lurking outside Harry's compartment. The mere possibility however, made Harry wait another five minutes before he set about emptying the contents of his trunk.
He deposited onto the floor a stack of textbooks, his shrunken firebolt and several empty potion bottles. Underneath was an assortment of clothes, robes and odd socks which covered his two most treasured possessions.
His invisibility cloak and penknife from Sirius.
Harry stuffed the cloak into an empty rucksack, grabbed and unshrunk his broomstick and turned his attention to the compartment door.
It was locked.
The blade flicked open, as he knelt down and inserted it into the lock. With a slow, delicate manoeuvre the knife twisted and sliced past the enchantments. The lock clicked and the compartment door swung open.
He paused, ears straining.
There was nothing.
Quietly, and wincing at every creak from the floorboards, Harry slipped through the corridor and hurried down the steps that descended from the Hogwarts Express.
His absent heart coiled and constricted as he let out another rattling breath. With one final look back to confirm Snape was nowhere to be seen, Harry threw his leg over his broom and kicked off hard from the ground.
Wind rushed against his ears, cold air clung to decayed skin as he flew higher and higher. The sky was clear, bright after the little snowfall that had settled. Far below silvery light glittered on the water, the moon reflected on the vast lakeside which stretched into the distance.
A rush of relief, mixed with adrenaline pulsed through Harry as the firebolt shot forwards.
The lake blurred, the dense treeline impenetrable across the mountainside. He was freer than he'd been in years...
Yet he wasn't. A flicker of frustration and anger threatened his momentarily excitement and relief.
There was still the issue of the tracker clasp tight around his ankle. No matter how far he got the Order could return him to an alternate destination within a second. But Harry wasn't going to stray too without Lyra-
Pushing his broom lower, Harry circled around the far side of the lake, scanning the ground for the nearest hint of the gatehouse. Any sign of the blue torches and the clearing down below were lost in the enormity of the place.
That was his conclusion until he flew directly over the castle.
The structure was surprisingly small from above, despite being four floors high and surrounded by imposing turrets, it was compact and tucked against the hillside. Dipping his broom lower, Harry fixed his gaze for any hint of a break in the tree line.
Thick forest surrounded the castle in every direction. Harry circled a couple more times for good measure.
There was no sign of any path. Even the one that they had travelled to the castle from the gatehouse had vanished.
A trickle of dread crept into Harry's consciousness. A gust jostled his position, would have steered him off course had he not shifted his weight.
He would have suspected he'd just missed it, the forest was expansive after all and stretched across the whole hillside. But magic crackled the night air, distorted the natural order of things.
Twisting around, Harry pulled the broomstick higher still and pointed it away from the lake towards a single solitary mountain peak. He shot off towards it, wind lashing against his skin, a deep cold penetrating as he rattled across the sky.
The firebolt cut through the clouds, the horizon edging ever closer, the summit of the mountain only a few minutes away. Yet that wasn't the case.
It remained elusive, just out of reach. The same distance away no matter how long he flew.
Losing patience, Harry abruptly jerked the handle upwards, coming to a halt. He turned around.
The castle and its dim flickering lights was less than a breath away.
He hadn't gone anywhere.
Instead of being lost to the horizon, the castle stood prominent and set against the hillside. Its small towers jutting up defiantly.
Harry circled round, frowning.
"That's a clever trick," he whispered.
There was no obvious way out.
The castle and the grounds were encased in a impenetrable bubble, where the edges could not be reached, no matter how long he flew.
Sighing and feeling slightly frustrated, Harry shifted his weight forwards, broom shifting downwards as he skimmed back over the treeline towards the Hogwarts Express.
He'd have to resort to Plan B.
Any thought of his next actions however, quickly dissipated.
Beneath him a figure was hurrying down a path that had escaped Harry's immediate attention.
Leaning forwards, Harry dipped lower to get a better look.
It was Barty Crouch. The weight of the osprey pulled the man's neck into the usual crooked position, and with each long stride the fake dæmon bobbed along unnaturally.
Excitement and a daring rush flooded through Harry.
This was the opportunity he needed.
He dived lower, landing further down the path, threw his invisibility cloak over his shoulders and waited.
Crouch's footsteps were hurried, pace quickening with every step. Harry took a single step back, drew breath and aimed his wand, good eye focused intently on the darkness ahead.
A clear profound want to kill coursed through, consuming every inch of his thoughts and desires.
Crouch emerged not a few moments later. The man had taken no precaution to conceal his identity with hood down and dæmon balanced precariously on his neck. There was a stiffness to the man's movements, almost as if he body was suddenly alien to him as he forced it to move.
Harry's wand cut down, the curse slipping easily and delicately from his tongue. A flash of green illuminated the surroundings, a beam striking the intended target.
The fake dæmon burst into nothingness.
In any other circumstances the man would have died.
Crouch whirled, his own wand summoning a supposedly impenetrable shield. Wild eyes darted back and forth, his face twisted into an ugly, cruel expression as he found nothing in the immediate darkness.
"Lumos."
Bright light scattered across the path, cascading down to reveal nothing but stone, earth and plants. In the distance an owl hooted and took a frenzied flight, swooped high above them and into the darkness.
Harry drew a single rattling breath. The temperature of the night air plunged but the true chill passed Crouch by unaffected. His true dæmon was nowhere in reach.
The Death Eater took a step back, exhaling as mist swirled in the wand light.
Eyes darted back and forth, searching and failing to find any target. There was only one possible solution the man had come to.
"Potter?"
Harry pulled the invisibility cloak from his head.
"You're lucky that dæmon convinces everyone else, it's a poor imitation if you ask me."
He paused, a half decayed smile tugging on his lips. "Although, it's a shame, I would have preferred a real soul to devour."
Crouch stared at Harry, expression twisting into something very unpleasant. He didn't answer as his eyes narrowed, fixing Harry with a hard stare.
"How long have you known?"
"That you're a Death Eater impersonating Barty Crouch?" Harry shrugged. "A couple of years."
There was a silence, and Crouch glanced back up the path towards the castle, his eyes scanning for any unwelcome figures. He flicked his wand once as the shield pulsed and faded to nothing. With another flick the surroundings were plunged back into darkness. Crouch finally levelled it at Harry.
"Who have you told?"
Harry crossed his arms, and rolled his good eye.
"If I told anyone, don't you think the Order or the Ministry would have done something by now?"
Crouch's lips pressed tight together, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Whatever he had expected, this was not it. He chewed his tongue, clearly trying to decide what to do with this new information.
"You couldn't tell before," he said at last.
That much was true. When Harry had first met Crouch, he'd only just turned demented and Tom had been blocking any vision of dæmons.
Harry tilted his head and shrugged again.
"Things are different now. Besides, Voldemort knows I can see dæmons. I didn't think you'd be so caught off guard."
A sheer look of indignation and anger contorted onto Crouch's face. The old man no longer looked the calm and respected Ministry employee, instead his whole demeanour transformed to something far more unpleasant.
"How dare you-" Crouch spat, wand barely holding steady as his hand shook. "You do not have the right to speak the Dark Lord's name-"
Harry titled his head as a contemplated reaching for his own wand. He hadn't anticipated the Death Eater to be so unhinged. Maybe it was because the man spent all his time away from his dæmon.
"I don't think he'd like me calling him Tom."
Crouch's eyes widened, mouth parting in disbelief and anger at the response. Sparks fired from the end of his wand.
"You are unworthy to bear a piece of the Dark Lord's soul, Potter."
Harry held his arms wide open.
"Go on then. Curse me, see how the Dark Lord's soul will like that?"
"Ha-" Crouch laughed, mouth twisting into a sneer, "You think you have power over me? It is the Dark Lord's orders I obey, and I know fully well my limitations when it comes to you."
Which meant Crouch had been given the authority to use force where necessary.
Harry surveyed the man, good eye narrowing. There was only one thing Crouch seemed to understand.
"I wasn't exclusively talking about Tom," Harry said lightly. "Riddle has rather a soft spot for me too. Or didn't you know that either? I'm sure he'd love to hear about anything unjust that happens to me."
He was over doing it. But from the slight bulge in Crouch's eyes, and briefest hesitancy in the man's face it was clearly the right decision. Solidified when Crouch finally lowered his wand.
The man scowled, chewed his tongue again as he was silent for a moment.
"How did you get your name in the tournament, Potter?" Crouch spat. "You know fine well the Dark Lord had nothing to do with it."
Harry grinned, a little too innocently.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Crouch's wand hand twitched, sparks spitting from it as fury crossed his face.
"The Dark Lord will not be pleased," he hissed. "You have no idea what you have done. This complicates everything. The consequences will be severe-"
"Why were you hurrying down here anyway?" Harry interrupted. "Spying on me, or were you looking for Snape? He's gone back up to the castle."
"I don't answer to you, Potter," Crouch snapped.
Perhaps this had been a bad idea. Barty Crouch always appeared so calm and composed, if a little standoffish. This Death Eater however, didn't retain any of the man's mannerisms. There were perhaps easier ways of getting what he wanted than continuing this conversation.
The imposter seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Obviously Harry hadn't confronted the man for no reason.
"What did you want, Potter?"
Harry paused and shrugged, despite the darkness rushing through him. Crouch would report back anything he said to Voldemort. He chose his next words carefully.
"A way out of here would be nice."
A look of pure annoyance crossed Crouch's face.
"You entered a bounding magical contest, Potter. You're not going anywhere."
"I have to participate in three tasks," Harry corrected. "It doesn't matter where I am the rest of the time."
"You will stay here," Crouch snapped, wand hand twitching impatiently. "Until I receive further orders from the Dark Lord-"
That was all Harry needed to hear. A flash of annoyance shot through him and an unregulated coldness enveloped the surroundings. It was harsh and fast, ice cracking across stones and plants that were already covered in a dusting of snow. Despite Crouch not having his dæmon nearby he flinched, unprotected from the desperate chill.
"Fine," Harry said coolly. He turned and started making his way back down the hill. "It's not like I can get out anyway."
He thought Crouch would stop him, would berate him that he had even tried, but the man's response was something else entirely.
"You tried to leave the grounds and failed?"
Harry paused, turning on his heel to look back at Crouch.
"You sound surprised?"
But for whatever reason Crouch didn't reply. Instead a rather nasty grin crossed the old wizards face. Harry crossed his arm and glared at the Death Eater. Any surrounding light was beginning to fade.
"What's so funny?"
"Put it this way, Potter," Crouch said, a cruel glint in his eye. "You will leave this castle only when the Dark Lord wants you to."
A trickle of dread ran down Harry's spine.
He hadn't gone to all this effort and escaped Hogwarts just to be trapped in a different location for the next year. There was also the fact that he didn't know whether to be insulted by the implication that Voldemort was just going to leave him here.
"Look, Potter. If you want out so much, get rid of that tracker the Order have on you first. Then I'll see what I can do."
Harry glared at the man. He itched to curse that smug look on Crouch's face. There was no way he was getting rid of the tracker, not on his own. That was the point of the thing.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded. "Where's your real dæmon?"
Crouch didn't answer. The man flashed another horrible smile and turned to make his way back up the path the way he had come. He made no attempt to re-summon his fake dæmon.
Harry slowed his pace as he approached the Hogwarts Express. Half a dozen lights were on, revealing shadows of people as they moved about in each of the compartments.
Harry took a deep breath, letting the cold despair calm him. Everything had moved so fast, and yet he'd hit an immediate brick wall. By making it so far, he'd been certain that Voldemort would interfere, but now that was apparently not the case. Plus if he had to find a way to remove the tracker himself...
Harry closed his eyes, relishing in the darkness. It grounded him, made everything clearer.
Confronting the impostor didn't change anything. Not really.
Crouch has been an opportunity to speed everything up. Harry would still find a way to Tom in the end.
As if that settled it, Harry set off at a brisk pace down the path towards the Hogwarts Express. On entering and with no immediate sign of Snape, Harry made a quick detour to another compartment.
Draco answered on the third knock. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and his robes hung loose off his shoulders. At the sight of Harry he sighed and ran a hand over his face, pinching his nose in the process.
"I told you you'd be picked."
But there was no smugness in Draco's voice, instead Adara peered around from under his feet, looking up with wide, cautious eyes. Something was clearly wrong.
Glancing around to make sure no one else was around, Harry lowered his voice.
"It's alright. Voldemort doesn't know how I put my name in."
Draco didn't flinch. Instead his expression only sunk further as he gestured for Harry to enter while passing his a piece of parchment that had a hurried scrawl on it.
Your mission has changed. Don't let Potter out of your sight.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"There has to be another Death Eater at Durmstrang," Draco whispered. "Someone who has direct contact with the Dark Lord."
Harry chewed his tongue but ultimately relented, if only because Adara had started to pace back and forth at Draco's feet.
"Crouch?" Draco's eyes widened, mouth parting in astonishment as Harry explained his last half an hour. Adara leapt onto a cabinet and across onto his shoulder to mutter frantically in his ear. "Barty Crouch? That's impossible, he's not a Death Eater."
"Well no," Harry admitted. "The man's polyjuiced and his dæmon is fake, but the imposter is definitely a Death Eater. He can separate from his own dæmon for a start. I've never seen it so I don't know who they really are."
If anything Draco's face paled further, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"If they can separate from their dæmon then they'll have been a Death Eater for a long time, which will make them more dangerous than most."
That much was certainly true. Voldemort no longer had possession of the Knife of Separation. Without it, Death Eaters would be unable to have their bond to their dæmon cut.
"Does Snape know about Crouch?" Harry asked.
Draco shook his head.
"Only the Dark Lord who knows who all of his Death Eaters are-"
Harry sat down at Draco's desk, reading the message over once more.
"Your mission has changed? I guess Voldemort's not happy that I entered the tournament and he didn't know anything about it."
Draco nodded.
"Snape's already told me something similar," he said. "Said I should make every effort to befriend you again and find out how you entered. Also that the Dark Lord will want to ensure that you succeed in the tournament so I should assist you in anyway I can."
"I guess that works out for us," Harry said. "Although it's odd that Crouch was coming to tell you himself. Doesn't he trust Snape?"
Draco shrugged.
"Not many Death Eaters trust Snape."
"I guess being a spy in the Order isn't going to do him any favours," Harry said.
Draco gave him an odd look and crossed his arms.
"You need to be more careful in who you stay stuff too. First Crouch, now Snape, the Dark Lord won't like how observant you are around those who are meant to be keeping an eye on you."
Harry grinned and leaned back on the chair.
"Like you for example?"
Draco flushed, but he didn't back down. He scooped up Adara into his arms and held her closely to his chest as his voice fell to an urgent whisper.
"I mean it, Harry. If you really are thinking of joining, the Dark Lord will want unwavering loyalty, and if he finds out you're manipulating the information he receives-"
That much was true. Which made Riddle's last warning even more ominous.
Convince yourself you are loyal.
Harry still didn't know if that was possible. He sighed, careful not to agitate Adara further as he got to the real reason for his visit.
"I've got a favour to ask."
If Draco hadn't been so good at hiding his true emotions, Harry might have missed the minute flicker of annoyance which crossed his face.
"Can you teach me how to apparate?"
Draco's shoulders relaxed.
"For a second you were going to ask me to contact Tom or something again-"
"Oh," Harry said, a sudden ache running through his chest as he remembered the sorting hat. "No, what I said before is still true. You don't need to worry about that any more."
Draco didn't look convinced.
"Harry, are you sure this is still what you want? You can still walk away."
Harry stood and made his way to the door. He turned on the threshold and smiled sadly.
"Voldemort has Tom. There's no other option for me."
Harry knocked on Hermione's compartment door next.
There was a pause, hurried footsteps and it flew open, revealing a Hermione who was a lot less composed than normal.
"How on earth did you get selected?" she whispered frantically, pulling him inside and slamming the door before he could answer. She was half way through getting dressed, her shirt untucked and robe discarded on the bed. "You should have seen the reaction when your name came out the goblet. Dumbledore looked so angry, and then Fawkes disappeared-"
Harry smiled and didn't answer.
Hermione' room was much the same as his own and Draco's, only she seemed to have turned it into a mini library. Dozens of shelves had been placed in every free space on the wall.
On her bed, in amongst a pile of books, lay Ramiron. The otter merely yawned and flicked his tail. He looked totally unimpressed by Harry's presence.
"You did put your name in didn't you?" Hermione demanded, pulling Harry round to face her. "Tom would never have done it and I can't think of anyone else."
"Sort of," Harry said. "It was you who gave me the idea actually."
A look of absolute horror passed over Hermione's face and Ramiron sat up, squeaking in protest.
"Don't say that!"
"Why not? You said that to enter the tournament I just had to put my name in the Goblet of Fire."
Hermione whipped around, her mouth open and ready to argue, but she closed it again almost immediately when she realised she had in fact told Harry exactly that.
"But who-"
A look of terrified understanding flicked across Hermione's face before he could even answer.
"You threatened Malfoy didn't you?"
Harry did his best to look indignant.
"I asked very nicely."
Hermione glared at him, and looked like she wanted to bat him around the ears. Ramiron was pacing on the bed around the books, he too looked like he would have had a few choice words to say to Lyra if she was about.
"Well I can't imagine Tom's going to be happy. I thought you said he didn't want you to enter."
"He didn't," Harry said coolly. "But that's his problem not mine."
Hermione crossed her arm and raised an eyebrow, fixing him with an unimpressed look.
"Well, either way you're going to have to be careful. Particularly after what happened at the last tournament-"
An odd expression crossed Harry's face.
"I don't plan on devouring anyone."
"Well of course not," Hermione said matter of factly. "But you've been really temperamental this term and this tournament is only going to make things worse."
"It's only a high school tournament, Hermione," Harry said. "How bad can it be?"
Hermione pressed her lips together.
"Well just don't underestimate it. It's going to be dangerous, particularly for you-"
Harry rolled his good eye.
"You sound just like Snape."
She ignored him and reached inside her bag and pulled out a large stack of parchment.
"You're going to need these. My notes on every tournament since the decadæmon was discontinued, and of course the decadæmon itself. And I'll have to show you some of the spells we were being taught, although you probably learned a lot from Professor Moody-"
The door slammed open.
Snape stood in the doorway, nostrils flared and lips pressed tight together. His black eyes were ablaze with fury.
"Where have you been?"
His voice was the slightest of whispers, but the tone was deadly.
Ramiron jumped from the bed, darted under the timber frame and didn't re-emerge.
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, and fixed Snape with an equally cool look.
"I haven't left the train."
"Liar."
Snape practically spat the word, his mouth curling into a horrible sneer. If Laraine or Lyra had been present, they'd probably have gone for each others throats.
Harry didn't bother to avert his gaze.
"With me now," Snape snarled.
Resisting the urge to draw his wand, Harry twisted on his heel and made his way to the door.
"I'll see you in the morning, Hermione."
"Snape wasn't too angry was he?"
It was early the next morning, and Harry, Hermione and Ramiron were walking up the steep hillside towards the school. Hermione was wrapped up and using her magical fire to keep her hands warm.
Harry had thrown his cloak over his shoulders, mainly at Hermione's instance, but the cool air was quite pleasant compared to his own internal chill.
Harry held up his arms. The bits of skin which weren't covered in decay were stained a dark reddy brown colour.
"It's not as bad as it looks," he said at her wrinkled nose. "Cleaning out his cauldron wasn't the worst part. I'd rather do that again then listen to him go on at me about how reckless I was for entering the tournament-"
Snape had been particularly intolerable last night. He'd taken great pleasure in telling Harry how inconvenienced he was just because of him. Specially when he was going to have to start brewing illegal potions from scratch in another country. Harry couldn't see what the trouble was. If Snape was breaking the law in one country, what matter did it make if he was doing it in another. Just as long as he could get hold of the main ingredient-
Their route through the castle was different from the one last night. Harry, Hermione and Ramiron walked through open corridors, passing groups of Durmstrang students dressed in blood red robes, with furs and warm hats.
"You wouldn't think the castle was this big," Harry commented as they turned another corner. "It looks so small from the outside."
Ramiron poked his head out of Hermione's jumper.
"It's a fascinating bit of magic," he squeaked. "The inside of the castle constantly changes to accommodate each and every person."
Harry paused mid step, looking around at the corridor they were in. It had mostly the same features as they rest of the castle. Large ornate tapestries of woven fabric displayed impressive portraits of dæmons.
"How does anyone know where to go?"
Hermione smiled and tucked Ramiron back into her jumper.
"The castle generally knows where you want to go and adapts accordingly. It means that different rooms can sometimes end up in totally different places, on opposite sides of the castle, or sometimes they don't exist at all. It's entirely different from Hogwarts-"
"Is that why it looks so small from the outside?" Harry asked. "If classrooms just pop in and out of existence?"
"And corridors," Ramiron squeaked, poking his head back out.
Sure enough though, after a few more turns they found themselves in the large room he'd been in briefly last night. It was still early, and long shadows cast through the windows, barely offering any light above the flickering candles. The roughly hewn wooden cup sat untouched on a plinth in the centre of the room. The benches which had been pressed against the side of the room had been moved into the centre, spreading out in an almost random display amongst the tables.
There were a few other Hogwarts students scattered around the hall mixed in amongst those from Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Ilvermorny and Mahoutokoro. Harry spotted Draco sitting on the far side of the room deep in discussion with a couple of Durmstrang students.
Harry followed Hermione as she found a spot in one of the far corners, near to where Katie Bell and her hare dæmon were sitting talking to Cormac McLaggen.
Just like Hogwarts, there was a ripple effect as they walked by. So many faces and dæmons whispered as he passed.
Harry ignored them, casting his good eye across the mix of students to find the one person who shouldn't have held his attention.
Will Parry sat alone, a short distance away. Angry whispers and hostile stares surrounded him. Clearly Durmstrang were just as frustrated as Karkaroff that they had been cheated out of a proper champion.
Will ignored them all.
"It's not surprising why the cup chose you, Harry," Hermione said, oblivious to Harry's distraction as she offered Ramiron some toast. "It selects a champion based on both the strength of the student and of the dæmon..."
"I know, Hermione," Harry said thoughts drifting to Tom.
"Where is Lyra anyway?"
Before he could answer there was a flutter of wings and an owl landed on the table in front of him. It ruffled itself, hopped closer, hooted and held out a thinly rolled piece of parchment.
It was a formal letter, written in long elegant handwriting.
Mr Potter & Lyra.
As Decadæmon champions, you are both required to attend the Weighing of the Dæmons ceremony this morning. After breakfast, please make your way to the vault.
Madam Isberg & Bulmmot
Harry looked up, noticing that Will Parry had received a similar letter. They weren't the only ones. Across the way, Harad had greeted an equally formal owl and Cho was reading her own letter.
Ramiron peered across the table and squeaked.
"Well wherever Lyra is, you're going to need her soon."
Descending the steep set of stairs Harry entered the chamber from the previous night.
The room had been rearranged. Both the large ornate bookcases and the pillars which supported the hall above had disappeared to create a more open space and ominous space.
Harry's footsteps echoed across the chamber as he eyed the precarious ceiling above. Despite spending plenty of times climbing the grand staircase in Hogwarts, it was unnerving to see a whole room held up from simply nothing.
A long thin carpet lay from one end of the room to the other. In the centre, a table was adorned in a thick velvet cloth, covered in depictions of dæmons.
Seven chairs spread equally along its edge and a a large display board was set up in the middle. The text was written in bold golden letters.
Weighing of the Dæmons Ceremony
Decadæmon Tournament Champions & Dæmons
Beauxbatons Academy of Magic
Adèle Boisclair & Velue [porcupine]
Edouard Dubois & Parandrus [alpine ibex]
Durmstrang Institute
Jorn Norberg & Nalusa [horse]
William Parry
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Cho Chang & Harad [owl]
Harry Potter & Lyra [pine marten]
Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Felix Kandil & Tesa [coyote]
Maleina Morgan & Edimmu [snake]
Mahoutokoro School of Magic
Hana Yamamoto & Kodama [bowtruckle]
Kaori Kai & Akabeko [cow]
Harry walked up beside Cho.
"They don't actually weigh our dæmons do they?"
Cho uncrossed her arms, deliberately relaxing her posture, as she glanced towards Harad. The owl was perched inside a hollowed stone crevice high up on the wall, his sharp yellow eyes peering down.
"No, it's just a ceremony. You know, to confirm that everything's legit and they're capable of participating in the tournament."
Harry nodded, an odd apprehension running through him.
Lyra was healthy enough, but her behaviours certainly weren't normal. If only she hadn't disappeared as soon as they'd arrived-
"So you're Harry Potter-"
Harry grimaced at the tone, as Cho smirked, resisting the urge to laugh. They turned to find both of the Ilvermorny students standing behind them, dressed in blue and cranberry robes.
"Maleina Morgan," the young woman introduced. She had long frizzy hair which she'd tied back into a ponytail. "This is my dæmon, Edimmu."
Her serpent draped lazily across her shoulders. He hissed and coiled his muscles, tightening protectively.
Felix Kandil however, didn't say anything. His eyes glinted coolly, matching the coy smile on his lips as he nodded stiffly to Harry and Cho. His dæmon, a grey coyote growled towards Harry.
Maleina looked at Felix, then at his dæmon and rolled her eyes.
"Professor Dumbledore has already been quite clear that there is no threat to our dæmons from Harry."
Felix's smile vanished.
"I hope you haven't forgotten that the last time the decadæmon tournament was held it was stopped because a dæmon was devoured."
"Of course not," Maleina said, matter of factly. "I just don't believe that they'll be any problems, right Harry?"
Harry looked between the two of them. Felix's standoffishness was expected, and in all honestly the right response if he wanted to protect his dæmon. Maleina Morgan however, was clearly letting onto something.
"You can cast a patronus can't you?" Harry asked dryly.
Maleina shrugged, a little too innocently.
"I've never had the opportunity to try it on the real thing."
A threat. It was clear and simple.
Harry curled his fist, resisting the urge to reach for his wand or draw a rattling breath.
The drama and politics of this tournament were things he really just didn't care about. Of course, he wasn't going to show himself to be weak. But having to dance around these threats was annoying. It would be far easier to just demonstrate he was capable.
And in that sense, he would bite.
"What's your worst fear?" Harry asked, flashing a decayed smile. "If you've never tried it on a dementor, then it's not as easy as it looks."
Maleina's expression faltered, her face twisting into something else entirely as her eyes narrowed. Edimmu raised his head and hissed, baring long, white fangs.
"Perhaps you didn't understand me-"
"I understood perfectly," Harry said.
A momentary silence, one where Maleina moved her hand towards her wand. Harry didn't react, only looked deliberately towards her serpent before looking straight back towards her.
If she dared to cast a patronus now-
"What about your other dæmon?" Felix asked loudly and deliberately. "The rumour going around is that he put your name in the Goblet."
Harry flicked his good eye across to him. The Ilvermorny students were certainly daring, he'd give them that.
"What does it matter who put my name in?"
Felix raised his chin, a cautious note to his voice.
"Is he going to compete?"
So that was what Maleina and Felix wanted. They weren't interested in whether or not they could fight Harry at all.
For a moment, Harry debated lying.
"I doubt it."
Both Felix and Maleina exchanged disbelieving glances. Their dæmons on the other hand looked more terrified than anything.
"He must be the reason the Goblet of Fire chose you. I mean everyone is thinking it," Maleina added without a hint of embarrassment. Edimmu hissed and slunk his heavy body to slither tighter across her shoulders.
"Lyra's just as strong as Tom," Harry said coolly.
"Right," Felix said slowly as he ran his fingers through his coyote's fur. "Well surely he's not going to leave you to do this on your own-"
Cho, who had been watching silently the whole time, laughed.
Felix spun on his heel. He crossed his arms and cast a wary glance at her.
"What's so funny?"
Cho shrugged and held out an arm. Harad swooped low to land on it.
"You're wasting your effort," she said. "Tom doesn't need to show up."
Felix stiffened, his voice hostile. His coyote dæmon snarled towards Harad.
"How can you be so confident? Or are you just trying to make sure we don't prepare?"
Cho shrugged and Harad hooted and fluffed his feathers.
"Fine, don't believe me. But even if he does turns up for the tasks, what do you think you can do about it. Fight the Dark Lord?"
There was a pause. Felix tensed, his hand itching towards his wand instinctively. Maleina however smiled, re-evaluating Cho with a new sort of interest.
"Of course not, that would be foolish." she waved her hand dismissively. "Although, speaking hypothetically...given the fact you know him...what would you do if you had to fight him?"
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or be offended. The nerve that they would so blatantly ask about how to confront Tom was unreal.
"Tom hates flying," Cho said offhandedly as she stroked her hand through Harad's feathers. "If it were me I'd challenge him to a game of quidditch."
Harry's lip twitched, resisting the urge to laugh. But both Maleina and Felix, along with their dæmons were listening with rapt attention, hanging onto her every word.
"Otherwise-" Cho continued, pausing for dramatic effect. "Tom really only has one real weakness. If you can target that then you're sorted."
Harry would have interjected, but there was an odd look in Cho's eye.
"Well, I'd cast a patronus charm at the person he cares about the most. You know, hit him where it hurts. I'm sure that won't infuriate him or anything."
The stark reality of her statement took a moment to sink in. Edimmu hissed, coiling himself around Maleina's shoulder to gain a better position to strike.
"I was only jesting, isn't that right, Harry?" Maleina said. "I'm sure you're not afraid of some healthy competition?"
Before Harry could answer, Maleina turned on her heel, cast him one last smile before making her way to the other side of the room. Felix and his dæmon followed, throwing a departing wave in Harry and Cho's direction.
Harry stood silently. Not entirely sure to make of the situation. If they really thought Tom would compete-
"I can do this on my own," Harry said quietly to Cho. "Not that I don't appreciate it."
Cho rolled her eyes. Harad hooted once and took off to fly back to the safety of the stone recess.
"The other champions will be working together to make sure their school wins. Why do you think they ganged up on you? And anyway I sort of assumed we'd be doing the same?"
Harry didn't say anything.
"Plus Maleina wants to win," Cho continued, unconcerned by his lack of response. "She'll do whatever it takes, even if she has to face the wrath of Tom. The same goes for the other champions."
"It's not Tom they should be worried about," Harry said quietly, his dead eye unseeing but wavering around the room, scanning over their dæmons as if by habit.
"I know that, but let them waste their efforts. If they ignore Lyra then they're going to be in for a nasty shock come the first task-"
Again, Harry remained silent. Lyra would have to pick her form carefully. If she transformed mid task then he'd devour her before it was over-
A disturbance at the end of the room drew their attention.
Madam Isberg, the five headmasters and mistresses and their dæmons entered the vault. They were joined by Snape, a photographer and someone else Harry was surprised he recognised.
International quidditch star, Victor Krum.
Krum had thick black eyebrows and a curved nose. He crossed the room, took one of the seven seats and hunched over looking rather sullen. His dæmon, a cat called Anelia, curled up on the table in front of him, yawned and shut her eyes.
"Is Victor Krum a judge?" Harry whispered.
"Yeah," Cho whispered, keeping her voice equally as quiet. "He used to go to Durmstrang-"
Madam Isberg faced the room, cleared her throat as Bulmmot grunted loudly and stomped his hooves.
The room fell silent.
"Thank you all for your attendance today. I would like to welcome you all to the weighing of the dæmons. Today, we'll be asking each of you a number of questions to make sure your dæmons are ready for whatever lies ahead. We'll start with Miss Boisclair. If you would please-"
Adele Boisclair held her head high as she took her place directly before the judges table. An odd purple cloud of smoke burst from the camera.
"When did your dæmon first appear, Miss Boisclair?" Madam Isberg began.
"On my sixth birthday," Adèle said, holding Velue tightly in her arms. "I woke up on my seventh birthday, and there he was right on the end of my bed trying to burrow into the covers. I don't think Velue realised I could see him at first. He ignored me for the first few days."
"That's quite common," Madame Maxine said in a deep voice, placing a large hand on her giant boar. "Dæmons of course have been ignored their entire existence. It's only naturally that they return the favour when we first start paying them attention."
Madam Isberg leaned forwards, an expectant look on her face.
"I've heard you're an Animagus?"
Adèle's smile faltered slightly. She knelt down to place Velue on the floor and in a blink of an eye, disappeared. The porcupine went very still. His form shifting from transparent to a far more solid state.
"Most impressive," Professor Fontaine squeaked, peering down at the small creature as his salamander scurried across the brim of his hat. "And you have perfect control."
The porcupine shuffled and within a split second, Adèle was standing back before them again.
"Good. Now, we'd like to see how far you can go from your dæmon," Madam Isberg said.
A brief flash of panic crossed Adèle's face, but then it was gone. Together they started walking away from each other towards one end of the long carpet.
A tape measurer floated mid-air beside them, stretching out with each step.
At twenty paces they stopped. Adèle turned on her heel with tears in her eyes.
The other dæmons in the room froze, and if anything they pressed themselves closer to their own humans.
Krum stood and walked around the end of the table. Anelia, his cat dæmon, yawned and opened her eyes, blinking slowly. She was in no discomfort, not a single ounce of pain as he walked away. As a quidditch player they had trained for years to stretch their own bond.
"You can go further." Krum's voice was gruff, hardly encouraging.
Adèle clenched at her chest, eyes watering, but she didn't move. Neither did Velue.
Harry's good eye narrowed.
He knew the effects of pulling better than anyone here. And despite Tom keeping him stable, the hollowness of Lyra drummed through him. It was constant, and the same whenever she left his side.
Perhaps he had underestimated the tournament. If they were going to challenge the champion's to separate-
When neither Adèle or Velue refused to move, Krum grunted in disappointment. He returned to his seat looking more sullen than before.
"Right, thank you Miss Boisclair," Madam Isberg said.
Following a few more questions and demonstrations, Edouard Dubois and his dæmon Parandrus followed next. Just like Adele, he was asked to transform into an animagus which he did so without any hesitation. When it came to seeing how far they could separate they managed at least a couple more steps than Adèle and Velue. This time Krum did not interrupt, but he cast a brief nod towards Madam Isberg when she looked his way.
Then it was the first Durmstrang champion's turn.
Jorn Norberg stood next to a rather wild looking horse. Her black mane was untamed and she clattered her hoofs against the ground, just like Galian used to do when Ginny was impatient.
He smiled thinly as the camera went off in the purple smoke, and barely flinched when he and his dæmon were asked to stand apart.
"Thank you, Mr Norberg," Madam Isberg said after a few minutes, she noted something down on a piece of parchment. "Mr Parry. If you could please step forwards."
Karkaroff muttered a curse under his breath. Barghest crouched low, although it didn't actually make him that much smaller. The photographer raised his camera but no smoke appeared as their dæmon, a gerbil who had been tucked in the brim of his hat disappeared out of sight.
Will Parry didn't seem to care.
He held his gaze even, staring at the judges with little concern.
The other dæmons in the room shifted restlessly.
"Have you ever seen your dæmon, Mr Parry?" Madam Isberg asked.
Will pressed his lips thinly together.
"No, she's never shown herself to me."
"I've heard your mother was the same? That she also never had a dæmon."
Will's jaw tightened but again he nodded.
Other people in the room, notably the other Durmstrang champion looked sharply across at Will at this.
That wasn't common knowledge apparently.
Madam Isberg however, was not deterred.
"Have you ever felt the presence of your dæmon? If you accidentality separated and pulled on your bond?"
"No," Will answered.
Harry had the distinct memory of flying on a broomstick for the first time. Lyra had been left on the ground and their bond had suffered the pain of being separated.
"Why did you enter the tournament if you have no dæmon?" Madam Isberg continued.
Will's fingers flexed instinctively, the missing little and ring fingers on his left hand looked more prominent as he did so. His chest rose and fell with a single deep breath.
"I thought that by entering the tournament my dæmon would reveal herself to me."
There was an edge to his voice, and Harry had the distinct feeling that what Will had said was not actually the whole truth.
"Very well-"
There was a disturbance.
It was just like a flutter, a warmth as the terrible ache inside Harry's chest disappeared.
Instinctively, Harry twisted on his heel, spotted Lyra peering around the bottom of the stone steps.
Some of the other dæmons shifted, watching cautiously as Lyra scampered across the room.
"Where have you been?" Harry hissed, keeping his voice low. He crouched down so she could clamber onto his shoulder. Lyra squeaked happily and pressed against him. Her fur was cold and damp, covered in moss and dirt.
Harry relaxed, taking a shallow breath. For the first time since entering the castle his dead eye flooded with light.
Now he would have a true measure of the other champions. And more importantly, confirm that it was impossible to live without a soul. Harry flicked his dead eye towards his target.
For a few seconds, he couldn't tell what he was looking at.
Unlike Remus, who had golden dust which clung in a thin outline to his skin, Will Parry had a light that illuminated his whole self. It burned intensely, gold and brighter than the surroundings.
It was impossible.
Will Parry was just like a dæmon, but in human form.
A primal urge rose within Harry. A deep, longing want. His feet remained rooted to the floor, but he screamed to cross the room, seize Will Parry by the collar and devour his soul completely.
It was dizzying, intoxicating.
Madam Isberg was speaking but the words washed over Harry. He could barely concentrate. Only a surge of temptation to claim and destroy remained.
Yet the room was oblivious to the imminent threat. The perfect imbalance between untamed desire and the darkness coiling within.
Lyra had gone deathly still, her own heart beat betraying her awareness of the danger. Her claws dug painful and deep into his shoulder, scratching into the decayed flesh. She would have drawn blood if he had any, knew instantly that this wasn't like other times, where Harry had been in control and had pushed the boundaries deliberately. This was Harry on the brink of slipping, of losing his humanity and becoming the very embodiment of evil.
Yet he wasn't.
This was unlike anything Harry had experienced. His mind was perfectly clear, the humanity unhindered and with the unstoppable force that would usually occur when a dæmon transformed non-existent. This was something else.
A temptation that he did not want to refuse.
Will stood in front of the judges, unaware of the hyper fixation on him. Or the fact that his soul burned brighter than any other living being present. The golden dust swirling in irresistible patterns.
Lyra growled, a warning that she would transform if she had to. Either to save herself, or to stop Harry. It didn't matter.
But she wasn't his target. She knew that. Any force now would be excessive.
"I'm fine," Harry whispered so only she could hear. It was hard to draw his attention away from Will Parry, but he curled his fingers into her fur, clinging onto any strength she could offer him. "I'm not going to do anything stupid."
The burning temptation remained. A desire he couldn't immediately act upon. Perhaps he could get Will alone, in an empty corridor or classroom.
The boy didn't have any friends after all.
It would be so easy. More so, because whenever Harry was truly demented he reacted on instant, had no plans to ensure he avoided consequence.
Instead he could plan, could make sure that no one would stop him taking what he wanted. And the best thing was that no one would suspect him, would never believe that Harry would target someone without a supposed soul.
Lyra growled again and scratched her claw sharply into his skin. He had left her with no other choice.
She leapt from his shoulder, darting unnoticed across the floor.
Harry tore his gaze away, simultaneously as Will Parry's soul extinguished. His vision to dæmons blocked. Lyra was just out of reach, beyond where their bond could reach.
She came to a halt, watching from a dark corner with her eyes wide and terrified.
A shiver ran down Harry spine.
It was horrifying because he had been so lucid, could follow the rationale of his decision and knew that he could justify to himself that Will Parry's soul was his to claim. That he could still be so easily tempted by a soul in his waking mind.
Now with Lyra out of reach, only a lingering want remained. Although present it wasn't nearly as debilitating.
Harry took a shaky breath, pinching his skin hard. No one else had noticed, they were absorbed in listening to Will, did not realise how close Harry had been to giving into his desires.
Only that wasn't true.
Snape was watching him, his dark eyes locked on with a horrible intensity.
There was no point avoiding eye contact, whether he ripped the memory from Harry's mind now or later he would find out.
A calmness had overtaken Harry's mind. A fact that consumed his immediate guilt and shame.
The fact that Will Parry had no dæmon was irrelevant.
His soul was inside of him.
The revelation was startling, ripped apart everything Harry thought he knew.
It wasn't possible, and it was.
Lyra remained at a distance for the entirety of the time the judges questioned Cho and Harad. Her eyes wide, watching and waiting.
But Harry was looking anywhere but in Will's direction. Anything to deter Snape, if only slightly.
"Mr Potter," Madam Isberg finally called.
Lyra leapt down from her shelf as if nothing had happened.
Harry pinched himself again, welcoming the distraction. He stepped forwards, deliberately focusing on each of the judges in turn.
The room had gone unnaturally quiet. The photographer didn't even raise the camera as he stared open mouthed at Harry's rotten skin and dead eye. His gerbil was nowhere in sight.
"Would you please introduce your dæmon," Madam Isberg said.
Harry held out an arm, and Lyra jumped onto his shoulder and squeaked several times. Given her adventures through the grounds, it was clear her fur was cold and dirty.
Harry would have to dunk her in the bath later.
The other dæmons in the room shifted restlessly, disturbed by Lyra's daring despite how normal this should be.
"This is Lyra," Harry said. His throat was horribly dry.
Their silence was expectant but there was nothing else he wanted to say.
Madam Isberg cleared her throat.
"When did your dæmons first appear?"
Harry was surprised at her nerve.
"Tom's always been there, long as I can remember."
Around the room people were leaning closer, listening with rapt attention.
"And Lyra?"
"I first saw her when I was eleven," Harry said, thinking back to the mirror of Erised. Did that even count?
Madam Isberg raised her eyebrows, leaning forwards in surprise.
"Eleven? That's very late."
"If I may offer an explanation," Dumbledore said calmly. "I believe that Lyra of course would have shown herself much sooner had it not been the influence of Lord Voldemort's soul."
There was sudden jerk of movement as people and dæmons alike flinched at the name. Madam Isberg however, continued with only a slight hesitation in her voice.
"And do your dæmons feel different from each other?"
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"No."
It was an obvious lie.
There weren't getting anything different though.
Barghest snarled, shifting his weight forwards as he pulled himself to his full height, snout rippled and teeth bared.
"How can you stand it? Why do you place yourself within direct reach of that thing-"
The question was directed at Lyra.
"She's my soul," Harry said coolly. "She belongs by my side."
Karkaroff stood, placing his palms face down on the table.
"I would prefer if you didn't address my dæmon directly, Mr Potter."
Harry resisted the urge to role his good eye. He couldn't care less about pureblood etiquette.
"Lyra doesn't speak," Harry said stiffly.
Lyra growled and rightly so, her light shifting in agitation. Whispers rippled around the room. Harry could see Jorn Norberg mutter something to his dæmon.
Karkaroff however, seemed genuinely surprised. He straightened, a frown deepening across his brow.
"Why? What is wrong with her?" he demanded.
Harry resisted the urge to draw a rattling breath.
"Nothing is wrong with her."
Krum slouched forwards, a frown crossing his already sullen face. He appeared bored, but Anelia sat upright, ears straightening as she stared at Lyra-
"Have you ever heard your dæmon speak?" Madam Isberg asked.
Harry debated lying again.
"Yes."
This at least seemed to settle the rising anxiety in the room.
"Is there any point asking Mr Potter and Lyra to separate?" Madame Maxime said. "We've already seen they can do so."
Harry didn't protest at this. The didn't need to know the intricacies of his and Lyra's bond. Or the fact that he had to rely on Tom whenever she went wandering.
"We should do something about it. It's an unfair advantage," Karkaroff muttered.
There was a flash of icy cold, all warmth dissipating from the surroundings from Harry's will alone. He curled his fingers around his wand.
"Interfere with our bond and I will make sure you never feel happiness again."
"Harry," Dumbledore said loudly, a warning edge to his voice. He turned to Karkaroff and spoke rather firmly. "Harry's capability is just as advantageous as those champion's who are animagus. This is the decadæmon tournament, with sole purpose is to test the bonds between each other."
"I find it odd that's what you would focus on Igor," Madame Maxime said. Unable to escape the lingering despair, her hand tightened against her giant boar's fur. "I would think that the fact that Mr Potter and his dæmon can separate is incomparable to the fact he's demented."
"Which is in itself problematic," Karkaroff said. "Are we really going to allow Potter to compete-"
Madam Isberg cleared her throat.
"We discussed this last night, Igor. All champion's that were chosen by the goblet of fire will participate. It's a magically binding contract and nothing will change that now."
It was clear that she wasn't just referring to Harry.
"Thank you, Mr Potter. That will be all."
Surprised, but not about to complain, Harry stepped back. The cold that had taken the room dissipating with every step.
Lyra scampered further away, placing herself just out of reach so that the terrible ache on Harry's soul returned, his dead eye blind.
It wouldn't have mattered.
Harry was prepared this time. His own temptation to devour Will Parry's soul was limited. His Occlumency shutting of his deepest desires before they could take hold.
Which was a shame, as it would have been fascinating to understand how Will's soul had come to be.
One by one the remaining champions took it in turns to stand before the judges to present their dæmons. Harry paid little attention, his thoughts lost and occupied by the impossible.
The want to steal glances at Will Parry hard to resist.
Snape was watching him again, a long finger pressed to his lower lip. He must have gotten an initial glimpse of Harry's thoughts-
"-and that concludes the weighing of the dæmons."
A puff of purple smoke burst into existence as Kaori Kai reunited with her dæmon, Akabeko. She wrapped her arms around her dæmons neck, reassuring him that they would not be separated again.
Madam Isberg stood and gestured for all champions and dæmons to come into the centre of the room. Cho stood to Harry's left, while Hana Yamamoto deliberately took several steps away on Harry's right. Kodama, her bowtruckle climbed into her hair, peering at Harry through the lose strands.
"Champions, please listen closely," Madam Isberg said. "The first task will take place in three weeks time. To prepare you will each need one of these."
She pulled out a velvet bag and extracted a golden egg shaped stone. It was about the size of a large marble.
"Your dæmons will carry one of these during the task. Your job is to steal as many of these stones from other dæmons as you can. The more stones you obtain, the more points you gain. And of course, if you lose your own stone you lose points. Is that clear?"
Around the room everyone nodded. A grin broke out across Maleina's face, and her dæmon slithered across her shoulder to whisper something in her ear.
"You will need to enchant your stones," Madam Isberg continued, fixing them all with a stern look. "Or otherwise ensure your dæmons have sufficient protections during the task. I trust you to use your time wisely. I wish you all the very best of luck."
Harry tossed the gold stone in the air and caught it again. It fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, its smooth surface shimmering from the nearby candle light, reminding him of an oddly shaped golden snitch. Lyra followed, gaze locked on with a keen interest, occasionally squeaking in excitement as they made their way through the castle.
The corridors were unfamiliar, adorned with large tapestries of intricate weaving. The depictions of dæmons from heavy fabric made their surroundings almost stifling, looming down oppressively as if they shouldn't be here. Yet, the path they walked felt natural and despite not knowing where to go, Harry and Lyra soon arrived at their intended destination.
Hermione was sitting in a modest sized library. Shelves covered every inch of the walls and ceiling, held up by magic as they hung precariously over head. A dusty tome floated passed past, neatly slotting itself on a shelf as another soared over head.
She put down her book, looking both excited and slightly apprehensive.
"How did it go?"
Harry sat down, his stomach twisting slightly despite himself.
"The first task is sort of like a dual I guess." He showed her the golden egg shaped stone and explained. Ramiron jumped onto the table, dodging around Lyra to peer up to get a better look.
Hermione listened intently before reaching her bag to retrieve a large stack of notes. Flicking past the first dozen pages she extracted a single piece of parchment.
"They've done similar tasks in the past. Here's one where the champions had to fight blindfolded. Of course their dæmons could see-" she added quickly at Harry's face as she passed across her notes. "But the dæmons all had an item they had to protect. Some of the tactics were fascinating-"
Hermione paused, noticing his discomfort.
"I'm not going to lie. From what I've read it can be pretty ruthless. The champions will play to their strengths and those of their dæmons. And of course exploit anyone who has a known weakness."
She looked pointedly at Harry.
A sour taste filled his mouth.
"You'll need to pick your battles carefully, otherwise you'll be an easy target," Hermione said. "The best you can hope for is that no one knows how to cast a patronus."
"Some of them do," Harry said, thinking of Maleina Morgan's threat. "And if any of the other champions don't know now, they'll learn before the task."
He vaguely wondered if Will Parry had tried to ever cast a patronus and whether it would turn his whole body into a silvery protection. He hated the thought.
"I really don't know how you're going to get around it," Hermione said, brow furrowed as she absently stroked Ramiron between his ears. "They'll be able to attack from a distance and their dæmons will be invulnerable."
Harry's fists curled tightly, his fingernails scratching against his decayed palms.
The last time he had been subjected to a patronus had been Umbridge's cat. That had been humiliating. He would never put himself through that again, let alone in front of a stadium of spectators.
"Ouch-"
A sharp pain scratched his elbow.
Lyra withdrew, bounding backwards, claws scratching at the table as she scampered out of reach. Her golden light danced, tantalisingly dangerous. Agitated and deliberately on the brink of transformation. She hissed, teeth bared, showing no remorse as she prepared to pounce again.
Harry's breath caught in his throat.
"Lyra-"
She squeaked and nipped sharply at his fingers when he reached towards her.
The golden dust cascaded and swirled, a perfect mixture of temptation.
Hermione placed her wad of parchment down and reached cautiously for her wand, just in case.
One wrong move. That's all it would take.
Harry watched with predatory senses. His mind perfectly calm, but all too aware of what Lyra was trying to achieve.
If Hermione were to cast a patronus now-
But why would Lyra want that? What was she trying to tell him?
A rattling breath escaped Harry. His absent heart almost stopped, an excited smile crossed his decayed lips.
"That's it-"
A chill mixed with a rush as trepidation flooded every inch of his body. He stood, the darkness within consuming.
He couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it before.
It would be risky. Incredibly so. If something went even the slightest bit wrong-
On the other hand...why leave things to chance?
Sensing his clarity, Lyra dodged around Ramiron and scrambled up Harry's arm, settling on his shoulder and pressing her fur against his cheek.
"I'll catch you later, Hermione-"
"Harry, wait-" Hermione started in a frenzied panic. "Where are you going?"
"I'll tell you later-"
Harry hurried from the library, Lyra scurrying back and forth across his shoulder before leaping to the floor to chase his heels. There was one thing that would win them the task. And for that he needed-
"Cho-"
Harry knocked rapidly on one of the middle cabins in the Hogwarts express. He could see Harad's golden light through the wall, perched on what must have been the end of the bed, his sharp eyes staring straight at the carriage door.
"I heard you the first time-"
The door jerked open. Cho stopped, mouth parting in surprise at the sight of him.
Without bothering to explain or waiting to be invited in, Harry stepped around her, scooping up Lyra into his arms.
"You wanted to pair up, right?"
Cho's expression sharpened as she crossed her arms.
"We both want Hogwarts to win, I don't see any point in making it any harder for each other."
"Good," Harry grinned. "Can you cast a patronus yet?"
Cho's hand itched towards her wand, lips tightening.
"No."
"Learn it," Harry said. "I can help, and Snape if you really need it."
Cho wrinkled her nose.
"You do realise it's the other champions we should be fighting, not each other. Anyway, I don't have time to learn a patronus," Cho said coolly. "Three weeks isn't enough, not when I've got this stone to deal with too-"
"I guarantee it'll win us the first task."
Cho paused, retort disappearing in an instant, as she pressed his lips tightly together.
She didn't question his confidence. Instead she reached out a hand and stroked Harad's feathers. He hooted gently, light mesmerising in his own excitement. It seemed to give her the answer she needed.