All hell broke loose when morning dawned, there was no stopping it. Despite the prosperous sunny day forecasted in the papers, it was abundantly clear that it was the darkest day that Hogwarts had seen in years when the Minister for Magic appeared at the school's iron gates with his favourite, most competent Aurors at his side.

Cornelius Fudge, a wizard whose fingers were always on the pulse of the British press, knew the instant he received a letter from The Daily Prophet's prime editor that this was going to be a strenuous workday. Especially when he noticed Dumbledore's name amidst the hastily scribbled paragraphs.

According to the editor, one of their lead journalists received an owl before dawn from a very disgruntled school governor who alleged that something dire had been taking place at Hogwarts all year, meaning the headmaster was actively breaking mandatory codes of conduct by excluding both the Ministry and the board of governors from said incidences. They wrote about petrified students and unsavoury faculty members who were putting the students in danger, and they voiced their concerns for the future of the school when they hinted that this would inevitably end up as a front-page headline — a sentiment the Minister never learned to ignore.

It was no secret that Cornelius regarded the press' influences within the community more than his predecessors. His image and the reputations of those around him were just as important as his ministerial duties and he couldn't afford any bad publicity when it came to Hogwarts. Over the past decades, the school and its infamous headmaster eventually became a thorn in each and every Minister's side and he was determined to break the curse during his time in office. Dumbledore may have been brilliant but drama followed him wherever he went, Cornelius had to stay on his good side. His Head of the Aurors office was going to miss today's visit, this was business he had to take care of personally.

Spooked by the head editor's letter, the Minister gathered a handful of Aurors and apparated to the Scottish highlands before his secretary could pour him his first cup of tea of the day. He sought to seek answers to these ludicrous accusations and prevent the negative attention from bubbling over into the public eye — but sadly the Ministry wasn't the only group arriving at Hogwarts that morning, snooping around for an exclusive first-hand account describing the attacks.

The head editor conveniently forgot to add in his letter that he was sending his best team to cover the story regardless of the Minister's opinion, he couldn't pass on the illustrious opportunity to inform his readers of this scandal as many of them were parents of Hogwarts students. They deserved to know.

Although both the Ministry and The Daily Prophet were permitted to be on school grounds, they sensed reluctance exuding from the headmaster straight away when he politely greeted them at the gates. The journalists noted down his unassuming words and cordial attitude towards the allegations that the Minister fired at him, but the infamous twinkling gaze that resonated with most that came into contact with the famous wizard was absent today. The journalists knew they were accepted, but not entirely welcome, and some attributed this to Albus' guilt. It seems there was a hint of truth to the anonymous governor's claims, and they feasted on the delicious tidbits they were being served when Albus confirmed that some of the students had been attacked.

"I'm obligated to investigate your governor's concerns, Albus, I'm sorry," croaked Cornelius, the ghost of a meek smirk playing at his thinned lips, and he nervously wrung the bowler hat clasped in his hands. Enchanted quills scribbled, and the headmaster glanced only at his deputy who clutched her chest, still processing what the Minister had just told them.

"Of course, I understand Cornelius," answered Albus softly, as though already accepting his fate, "but before we visit Mr Hagrid, I want to reiterate my faith and wholehearted trust in him. Rubeus is a good man, you are digging up memories that are best left untouched for all of our sakes."

"But for the sake of the hundreds of parents who will be looking to me to resolve this, I have to do something to appease the governors," implored Cornelius, urging Albus to step aside and surrender the groundskeeper for questioning, "someone is petrifying your students, I have to ask the questions no one wants to hear."

"Whatever happens, this isn't a reflection of Albus' view on the children's well-being, you mustn't remove him from the school, Minister," interjected Minerva, sensing the true nature of the presence of the Aurors as she eyed them warily, "please — this is all a misunderstanding. We're handling it."

"It's alright, Minerva," murmured Albus with a soft smile, sounding very much at peace with his impending dismissal, "Cornelius is only doing his job, like it was my job to keep the governors informed. From what I know, a couple of our governors share a rudimentary bias against our groundskeeper. I couldn't let their prejudices blind them from acting rationally and convicting an innocent man. The time will come when you will see that I was doing what was best for everyone, and I hope the board can forgive me for bypassing them. The public shouldn't know about this."

"The man was expelled for doing something similar, don't kid yourself, Professor. You can't keep protecting Mr Hagrid forever," chirped up one of the older Aurors who was shaking their head, but Cornelius held a hand up, silencing him before he aggravated the headmaster and lost them their entry. Fortunately, they did not.

"Albus, I truly do not want to do this, but if Rubeus is responsible then the board will call for your removal so we should see to this quickly. This is merely an investigation at this point," admitted Cornelius. He didn't want to disrespect the famed wizard he admired and regularly looked to for advice, but he had to do what was best. They both did.

"I understand… follow me," said Albus with an air of sorrow as he beckoned them onto school property. He paused only when he noticed the enthusiastic glances from the press when they spotted movement behind the castle's windows, "and please, if you wouldn't mind, do not speak to the students."

Naturally, The Daily Prophet journalists didn't listen to a single word and broke the headmaster's orders the second they were left to their own devices outside of the groundskeeper's hut.

Enchanted cameras flashed sporadically as the headmaster, his deputy, the Minister, and his Aurors were welcomed inside by a strangely docile Hagrid, and the journalists allowed their magical quills the chance to finish their sentences before sprinting towards the castle, desperate to find an unsuspecting child to exploit for content.

The breaking news spread like dragon pox. Whispers caught the painted ears of the nosy portraits and the remaining ghosts transcended through the floors, screaming about the culprit who had finally been apprehended. Many students rushed to the windows the second they heard to confirm whether the rumours were true, cautious that it was just another one of Peeve's 'jokes' that was making the rounds again, while others immediately dropped whatever they were doing and headed straight for the stone hut, needing to see the truth with their own eyes.

"What's going on?"

"Is it true? Is Hagrid really behind this?!"

"I always thought he was a bit dodgy, apparently he was expelled because he's done this before! Maybe he's the Heir!"

"So, is there really a basilisk at Hogwarts or not? Because I'm getting confused…"

The outcries from the rallying students grew louder as more bodies joined the crowd, with theories about what Hagrid had done being tossed around carelessly for the journalists to steal and bets being placed amongst the older years on whether Hagrid was guilty or not. It wasn't surprising that nobody noticed two second-year Gryffindors elbowing their way through the crowd in search of their friend. Every eye was trained on the hut's front door, waiting for a new development.

Harry and Ron burst through the frontlines of the surging crowd and searched, praying that she would be here.

Although they were extremely fatigued and still reeling from their harrowing encounter with Hagrid's pet spider, the boys woke up early and rushed off to find Lyra. They had so much to tell her about their talk with Hagrid and Aragog, but she wasn't in the girls' dormitory, nor was she in the Great Hall. They were on their way to check the hospital wing when they overheard a group of Ravenclaws gossiping about the commotion out by the groundskeeper hut, and they changed direction faster than either of them could blink, fearing the worst.

"Lyra's not here either," Harry admitted defeat first. Ron could only hang his head, desperately trying to think of their next step, but the excitement swelling around them caught his attention briefly and he gulped.

"You don't reckon she's in there with Hagrid, do you? You know what she's like when it comes to drama, she probably was the first person down here and talked her way inside," He suggested, craning his neck in the hopes of sneaking a peek through the patterned windows, and Harry grabbed onto his theory with both hands.

"She must be, where else could she be?" he answered morbidly, but before he could vocalise his confusion on what was going on around them — Professor McGonagall burst through Hagrid's front door, her face ashen as though she had just heard something truly disturbing, and she stormed up towards the castle at a pace no one thought she could achieve at her age. Harry's stomach knotted, something was wrong.

"Prefects, make sure everyone remains here, no one is allowed back inside the main building until I say," she shouted as she fled the scene, her wand pressed into the side of her neck to amplify her urgent warning, "all students inside the castle are to remain where they are, staff will be coming to collect you momentarily. Do not attempt to leave the castle by yourself, I repeat — do not move."

Her curt instructions boomed out across Hogwarts, scaring a few flocks of birds hiding in the forest, and the two boys couldn't help but gawk along with everyone else. The excitement died in an instant, and the murmurs of mild panic sent a tremor through the crowd.

"Oi!" Fred, George, and their friends spotted the boys at the front and shuffled over, "This is actually bonkers! You don't think it's true, do you? Hagrid petrifying everyone?"

"Of course it's not true," Ron shot back at his twin brothers, "Hagrid wouldn't attack anyone, let alone a load of kids unprovoked! Do you honestly think he would attack Ginny? Or Hermione?!"

"Alright, keep your hair on, we were just asking," scoffed Fred, putting his hands up.

"He's being framed, this has all happened before," insisted Harry, a little hurt that his housemates would believe the lies being spread around them, "we met his pet spider last night who confirmed everything, Hagrid isn't doing this."

"You hung out with a spider last night?" George guffawed, eyeing his little brother incredulously, "you? In the same space as a spider? Really?"

"It wasn't just some house spider either! It was a bloody Acromantula and he wasn't alone! Can we not talk about Aragog, I'm trying to forget that he exists," Ron shivered, trying not to think too hard about Hagrid's oldest friend who tried to rip his legs off last night before Harry intervened and accidentally set fire to the nest.

"And where oh where can we find this gigantic spider? For research purposes, of course," Fred asked casually, trying to seem disinterested in the topic, but Harry answered before Ron could call him out for potentially pranking him with Aragog.

"Forbidden Forest, but I wouldn't recommend a visit unless you want to end up as their dinner," he muttered, paying little attention to their conversation as he spotted several shadows move past the hut windows, "you guys haven't seen Lyra anywhere, have you?"

"Can't say we have," George mused, using his extra inches on the two second-years to search the faces surrounding them for her distinctive freckled cheeks, "are you sure she's not hanging out with the Acromantulas?"

"No, she didn't come with us last night," elaborated Ron, "she wasn't feeling well."

"Still?" exclaimed Katie, looking sympathetic.

"Is she ok? She's been acting a little weird for a while now, is there anything going on?" wondered Angelina, equally as concerned.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to agree with their sentiments and ask whether they knew anyone named Riddle, the crowd suddenly grew in volume again. They all turned to see something small, agile, and vibrantly blue zoom towards Hagrid's hut and transcend through its walls as though it was a ghost. Harry blinked, wondering whether he had imagined the apparition but he felt somewhat relieved that he wasn't going crazy when Ron commented too.

"What the hell was that?"

"I think it was McGonagall's patronus," gasped Katie in apprehension, "it looked like a cat—,"

"HERE THEY COME!"

The yell from the photographer nearest Hagrid's kitchen window barely left his mouth when the Minister for Magic ambled out from the hut looking as though he wanted to be anywhere else but here. Ron helpfully leant over to Harry and whispered a brief explanation of who Cornelius Fudge was, but the majority of his description was drowned out by the screams from the press who charged forwards as Hagrid appeared.

The enchanted manacles slapped around his tree branch wrists caught the flashes of the cameras exquisitely, announcing the groundskeeper's fate before it was official. Harry could only gaze on in disbelief as he watched his giant friend stare blankly at his audience, unfazed by the armed Aurors flanking him or his diminishing freedom. He looked so unlike himself that he began to wonder whether he was actually lucid or in shock. His heart broke.

"What's the verdict, Minister?"

"Is Mr Hagrid guilty? Is Hogwarts safe now?"

"I think it would be most appropriate that Professor Dumbledore address his students first," Cornelius announced, sounding much stronger and firmer than he looked, and he gestured for the headmaster to take his place in front of the anxious crowd.

The knot in Harry's stomach tightened as he noticed how timid Professor Dumbledore seemed when he bowed his head and gazed sorrowfully down at them all. His heart thudded extra loud when his azure eyes lingered on his face for a split second before passing on, and the school held its collective breath as Dumbledore relayed their breaking revelation.

"It is with a heavy heart that I announce my resignation as your headmaster today, a calling I felt I was destined to fulfil and regrettably one I am obliged to give up," he said regally, and he allowed the gasps of shock to settle before continuing.

"As your new headmistress, Professor McGonagall will be standing in to oversee the completion of this school year, and I know she will do a terrific job in leading the school and protecting you all from any threat that may come to Hogwarts. I want to formally apologise to you all, these attacks should never have happened under my watch, but I want you all to remember this: although help will always be given here at Hogwarts to those who ask for it, asking for help isn't a weakness. It takes great strength and courage to ask when one needs it most, no matter how confusing the riddle holding you back may be."

The headmaster's cryptic statement failed to resonate with most of the crowd, but Harry knew Ron was trying to catch his eye when Dumbledore finished his speech — he noticed it too.

The headmaster was speaking directly to them, or possibly, to someone else who should have been standing beside them, but his underlying message hit Harry like a punch to the throat. He resented his hunch, and he couldn't quite swallow the lump forming in his throat.

She was in trouble.

"Thank you, Professor," Fudge smiled sympathetically at Dumbledore before addressing the elephant in the room as the press were practically jumping out at him in anticipation, "and I'm afraid it is my duty to inform you all that in light of the results of our ongoing investigation, Mr Rubeus Hagrid will be henceforth dismissed from his job as Hogwarts groundskeeper. He will be prosecuted in due course with the charge of first-degree murder of Professor Gilderoy Lockhart and will be trialled before the Wizard's Council on multiple charges of domestic terrorism. There will be no more statements at this time, thank you."

The reaction was immediate.

The press erupted, barking follow-up questions like raving wolves as they chased after the departing group, and the hysteria was beginning to bubble amongst the students as they realised their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had been murdered. Ignoring the chaos around him, Harry pushed his way through to the now abandoned hut and stuck his head through the ajar door, fully expecting to see Lyra perched on the leather armchair waiting for them.

The lump in his throat grew harder. She wasn't there.

Only Fang remained, whimpering sadly from the frilly coach, and Harry's brow crumpled. His heart started to race as he jumped to the worst conclusions, but he rushed to wipe the panic on his face when Ron eventually joined him.

"She must be in the hospital wing," Harry said, playing up his determination instead of admitting that he was downright freaking out over Lyra's sudden disappearance, "come on, let's—,"

"Mate, the hospital wing's been attacked," revealed Ron in a strange, croaky voice, causing Harry to stop his vicious pacing and take in Ron's pale appearance.

There were tears in his eyes, and he was slumped over, his shoulders hunched and his posture slack as he gazed mournfully at his friend. "McGonagall just announced it now, everyone's saying that Hagrid admitted to it…"

Weakened by yet another blow of breaking news, Harry collapsed next to Fang on the sofa and grimaced at the floor. The velocity of the situation hadn't sunk in yet, the wave of information crashed over him repeatedly, impairing his ability to process thoughts rationally. Everything was happening so fast.

"Was anyone else hurt?" Harry managed to ask, though he thought his voice was noticeably thick.

"I don't think so, McGonagall didn't say… Harry, what if Hagrid did this?" Ron said quietly, his freckled face wrinkled in incredulity as he sunk into the empty armchair, but Harry wasn't prepared to listen.

Deep down in his soul, he knew someone else was behind all of this, pulling the strings from the very beginning, and he knew he was the only one who had enough faith to uncover the truth.

"He didn't, you know deep down he didn't, and we're going to prove that he's innocent," Harry vowed, sitting up taller in his seat and turning to his best friend for support. Ron looked mildly dissuaded, but he nodded and tried to match his confidence. It was all he had.

"That's easier said than done, no one's going to believe Aragog so let's write using him as a witness off straight away," he said, suppressing his shiver that time, "and Hagrid told us that the person he believes framed him last time is dead so it's not like we can track them down and force them to confess?"

Suddenly a blistering spasm stung Harry's forehead, and he froze, thunderstruck by its presence again. After a minute the ache remained, and he massaged his scar while he caught Ron's widening eyes again, reflecting his fear at him. It couldn't be…?

"No…" Harry laughed humourlessly, shaking his head, "No way…"

"I think there's a reason why Hagrid never told us their name," noted Ron, looking more disgusted with their unspoken theory by the second as his face resembled a sickly shade of cream, and he reached over to stroke Fang for extra comfort, "it could be… don't suppose you know how old You-Know-Who was? Or is, if he's still somehow alive?"

"I have no idea," mumbled Harry, and he took his glasses off and clamped his hands over half his face, alleviating some of the pain. He tried to form the words to tell Ron what he was worried about, but everything felt like it was crumbling around him and physically saying his hunch out loud would be the final blow. He knew what his scar was trying to tell him now, and he was afraid that the mysteries somehow connected. It couldn't—? It wouldn't—!

"Ron," Harry forced the lump in his throat down with a strong swallow, but he hated how scared he sounded, "what's You-Know-Who's real name?"

"I dunno," Ron admitted with a small sigh, a bit puzzled by the question since he had never thought to ask, "for some reason I always assumed he was called…" He debated whispering it but he immediately chickened out, "that name his whole life. I can't imagine him attending Hogwarts either, just walking around the castle and going to lessons like a normal guy, or people calling him by a normal name like Joseph or Mr Smith or—,"

"Or Riddle?"

The second Harry said it out loud his skin crawled and his scar pulsated as though it was answering his question.

His heart was beating so fast that he felt it twice — in his chest and at the very front of his skull.

"That's impossible," Ron snapped his swinging jaw shut and almost snickered, trying to use logic since they were clearly lacking some in their dynamic with the girls missing, "if that's true then why the hell would Lyra write You-Know-Who a love letter?! Ew! Don't joke about that Harry, that's too far."

"What if she doesn't know it's him? What if he's hiding behind something like last year? He's not exactly known to be an honest person," Harry spewed, not realising that these questions had been waiting to come out of him, "that's why my scar hurt when I saw Riddle in my dream… it's him."

The dark graveyard scene began to play before Harry's eyes, taunting him with his best friend's torture to highlight just how stupid he had been. Humiliation didn't even begin to describe how he felt.

His scar prickled in exhilaration, as though it was actually exciting that he had figured it out. He was on their trail now, he caught a whiff and finally found direction.

"But—?! This is—?! If that's true then what do we do?!" exclaimed Ron, gormlessly staring at Harry as he accepted his reasoning, "we've got to do something. We have to tell someone!"

"We have to find Lyra first," said Harry firmly, using the foreign emotion as fuel, "if I'm right… and I really hope I'm not, then…" he couldn't finish his sentence, and thankfully he didn't have to. Ron understood his unspoken feelings and climbed to his feet too, showing Harry that he was by his side no matter what.

"Fuck."

The first location they sprinted to was the hospital wing, they needed to check with their own eyes that Lyra wasn't there. When they arrived, to their horror, they found Professor Snape and Professor Sinistra acting as guards as they prowled around the wing's very obviously locked entrance. The huge 'Do Not Enter' sign hammered to the doors sent shivers down both of their spines, but Harry summoned up the courage and marched towards them with defiance in his step.

"Professor—,"

"Absolutely not, Potter," droned Snape the second he spotted him, cutting his innocent question off without any regard for the boy's clearly alarmed expression with a flourish of his cloak, "go back to your common room and take Weasley with you."

Ron guiltily shuffled out from behind the wall he was hiding behind, his cheeks glowing as he walked over.

"Sir, we can't find Lyra," Harry countered, and he looked hopefully at Professor Sinistra, the dark-skinned, sensible Astronomy teacher who didn't hold a grudge over him, "we just want to know if she's in there."

"A likely story," huffed Snape, but Sinistra thankfully interjected with a much warmer smile.

"I'm sorry boys but Miss Black isn't in there," she answered, her Jamaican accent softer than usual, "Professor Snape is right, you should be in your common room."

"There's no point trying to explain the rules to these two, Aurora, they won't listen," said Snape, his top lip curling.

"We have a good reason to be out," Ron tried to justify, "we need to find Lyra."

"Then perhaps try the Forbidden Forest?" spat Snape, evidently kidding as he added as an afterthought, "Just know that the second you take one step into that Forest I will be taking hundreds of points away from Gryffindor."

"She wasn't in the Forest the last time she went missing, was she?!" exclaimed Harry, unable to hold back his anger as he glared back at the Potions Master, but Professor Sinistra saw the impending argument between her colleague and the second year student straight away. Her judgemental side-eye towards Snape didn't go unnoticed, however, and Ron had to turn away to hide his snort of laughter as Professor Sinistra clearly disapproved of Snape's attitude.

"We will keep an eye out for Miss Black, but I must insist on walking you back to the Gryffindor Tower to ensure you remain safe," she said kindly, shifting her draping yellow and orange robe sleeves so she could herd the boys away from the irate Slytherin head who looked like he had sucked on one too many lemons.

Disappointed that they now had an escort, Harry and Ron tried to look for an out as they ascended the castle stairs that would lead them straight to Gryffindor Tower. They tried to ask Professor Sinistra multiple, rather vague questions that potentially could give them a hint as to what exactly went down in the hospital wing, but they were exceptionally unsuccessful as Sinistra seemed to be an expert at giving cryptic answers. No details were given when McGonagall broke the news, which could only mean something truly terrible had happened.

"I suspect that your friend is waiting for you in your common room, as she should be, but just to be sure I will pass your concerns onto Professor McGonagall," assured Sinistra as they arrived at the Fat Lady's painting, "after today's events, anything is possible."

"Very cheery, thanks Professor," mumbled Ron, but his ears began to sizzle when he realised she had heard his sarcasm.

"Thank you, because I'm worried that something has happened to her, no one has seen her," Harry emphasised, trying one last time to squeeze any information out of his teacher, "Lyra knew that Hagrid was the one behind the attacks, she's known for months."

His stomach flooded with hope when Professor Sinistra's face flickered, and he adamantly ignored the bizarre pointed looks coming from Ron.

This wasn't a part of the plan, he hadn't a clue what Harry was trying to do. Harry tensed, waiting for her to say anything in response to his suspicious claim, but as though he had been given a shot of liquid luck the portrait behind them swung open and the Weasley twins tumbled out.

"Merlin's beard, not you two," tutted Sinistra tiredly, recognising the troublesome duo instantly, "turn around, back you go—,"

"We weren't on our way out to truant, cross our hearts and hope to die," Fred began, holding his hands up as though he was being interrogated, "preferably not by a basilisk, but each to their own."

"We couldn't help but overhear your conversation through the painting, and we wanted to let you know that we can't find Lyra in the tower either," George concluded, acting more seriously than his doppelgänger due to the subject matter, "she's missing. We've already lost one family member this year Professor, we can't lose another."

Professor Sinistra hardened her expression and pointed back the way they came, genuinely scared for their safety. Their added intel wasn't sitting right with her.

"Wait inside the tower," she instructed before she ran off, but she never stuck around to see that the four Gryffindors obeyed.

"Did you check the girls' dorm?" Harry spat out as soon as they were alone, and the twins nodded.

"Katie and Angelina checked as well, and we asked around the tower," Fred admitted, sobering up, "no one has seen her since yesterday."

"Shit," said Ron simply, devastated by their report, and Harry let out a hollow laugh in agreement.

"What's going on? What are you hiding from us?" wondered George.

"We think Lyra might be in trouble, we need to find her right now, before…" Harry stopped himself before he brought up Voldemort. He didn't want to scare them, but Ron quickly covered his fumble for him.

"Before she hurts herself," he muttered, juggling with the truth, and he smiled up at his older brothers, "actually, if you wouldn't mind, we might need your help causing a distraction."

"If we wouldn't mind? Ha!" Fred puffed his chest out and George instinctively flexed as if they were preparing their mischief muscles, "I suppose we could offer up our expertise. What do you think, Georgie?"

"I mean, with classes being cancelled and all we are just so busy," he sighed, flicking a piece of lint from his brother's shoulder, "but I think we can squeeze you two in."

"Great, because Snape won't give us a chance to explain if he catches us again," said Harry, taking action and rushing to come up with a plan. He had stupidly forgotten his cloak, but something in his gut was telling him not to use it today. "We need to speak to McGonagall, Dumbledore isn't here and I don't know who else could contact him."

The twins looked a little queasy at the task but they gladly accepted it and gestured for them to lead the way.

Harry never truly took much notice of how well the twins knew Hogwarts until now, they seemed to navigate the hallways like they had known them for decades. Of course, they had been in possession of the magical map for a few years but it was like they didn't need it anymore, neither of them flinched at the sounds of approaching footsteps or stomping suits of armour, and their knack for finding hidden passageways was unparalleled. Tracking down McGonagall was a lot harder than they thought, but as the school's new headmistress, they knew they were in for a long-winded chase since she had a lot on her plate.

"Ugh, it's way past lunchtime now, I'm starving," complained Ron as they snuck through their dozenth cramped passage, but Harry rushed to shush him as they passed a gap in the stone walls that overlooked a seemingly busy corridor. A crowd of teachers were standing in a tight-knit circle, huddling together so they wouldn't be heard, and Harry crept closer, daring to take a peek so he could try and catch their every word.

"—we've checked the kitchens, the basement beneath the dungeons, even the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest," debriefed an exhausted-looking Professor Sinistra who had abandoned her draping robes and replaced them with lighter garments, "Minerva, Black isn't here."

Judging by the scattered armchairs, the copious amount of mugs, and piles of parchment lying around, Harry hazarded a guess that this was the staff room, a place he's yet to encounter.

"Have we checked the Owlery? The Quidditch pitch? She must be here somewhere, you know what she's like," urged McGonagall, and Harry's heart hurt when he picked up on her despairing tone. She sounded so unlike her usual stern self, and that frightened him more than he was willing to admit. If she was just as scared as he was, then what luck did they have in finding Lyra?

"They're all empty," Flitwick said gravely, clearly not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, "I believe it may be time to consider that Gilderoy wasn't Rubeus' only victim."

"No," McGonagall asserted, straightening her spectacles so she seemed less emotional than she was, "Rubeus cares very much about that girl and I refuse to believe that he would in any way harm her. She is here somewhere, we must keep looking."

"As you wish, headmistress," answered Professor Sprout, the only teacher who looked somewhat optimistic, "Hogwarts is an enormous place, it holds secrets that even we cannot uncover after all these years, there must be some hiding place we haven't checked yet."

"Thank you," sighed McGonagall, awfully relieved that someone was standing with her judgement.

"Uh oh— guys?"

Harry took a step back from the crack and turned to see the Weasley twins crouched at the end of the passageway, their awkward expressions illuminated by the torchlight flooding in through the exit, and they frantically beckoned the second years towards them.

"We better go, Peeves incoming!" whispered George, and the two second years groaned when they spotted the vibrantly dressed Peeves only a few feet away.

"Oooooh! What do we have here, then?"

The poltergeist honed in on the four faces peering through the secret passageway and cackled, doubling his somersault as he zoomed overhead. The school was on lockdown, so of course Peeves was beside himself that he found some students breaking the rules — but his grin curved maniacally when he spotted Harry, it wasn't just any old student that had come out to play.

"Ooooh hooowee!" Peeves shouted, smirking down at the boys who were desperately waving at him to shut up, and he took the liberty of winding them up, "A game of charades?! Peevesy loves charades, how did you know!"

"Ok, I've got one," Fred whispered, taking Peeves' challenge for a game of charades seriously, and he pretended to open a book to the distress of both Harry and Ron. Now was not the time!

Peeves' laughter was bound to catch the attention of the nearby staff room, and they were growing antsier as they stayed out in the shadows of the passageway opening.

"Book! It's a book!" Peeves answered, already very invested in the game.

George side-eyed his brother and blew a raspberry, disappointed in him. "Pssh! Nerd! You should've chosen a song!" He heckled.

The ache swelling around Harry's scar started to throb, upgrading from excusable twinges to aggravating spasms. It was taunting him, reminding him he was losing the impending battle already.

"Ok, great, you guys keep Peeves distracted," suggested Harry, tugging on Ron's arm so he would follow him, "we're just going to… um, yeah," and the pair rushed off to the staff room before the poltergeist noticed.

Without pausing to decide what their game plan was, Harry pounded his fist on the staff room door and listened for sounds of life but his pounding heartbeat was deafening in his ears. He tried to hide his shaky hands by shoving them in his pockets but the sight of Ron trembling beside him put him slightly at ease.

"We're doing the right thing by telling them, yeah? You're certain that he's behind all this?" muttered Ron, nervously messing with his hair as they waited for a response, and Harry could only give him a stiff nod.

The door opened only a crack at first, causing the pair to freeze in fright as they realised at least half a dozen wands were aimed at them, but they relaxed a little when McGonagall hastily pulled them inside.

She looked far from happy to see them not inside the Gryffindor Tower, and Harry couldn't help but welcome her stern expression for once. He couldn't bear to see her so heartbroken and frazzled up close, not when he was relying on her to deal with what he was about to admit.

"This is on me, Minerva, I apologise," Professor Sinistra spoke up first from her armchair, "I should have checked that they followed my instructions."

"Oh no, Aurora, this isn't your doing," McGonagall said lightly, smiling at her before switching to scowl at her students, "whenever the school is in peril it seems that Mr Potter and Mr Weasley magically forget that the school rules apply to them."

"That's only happened once, this second time is a mere coincidence," Ron pointed out in the hopes that they would go easy on them, but his facts fell on deaf ears.

"I'm beginning to doubt that—,"

"We wouldn't have left the common room if it wasn't urgent, please Professor," spat Harry, hoping his choice to interrupt his head of house wouldn't backfire, but the thought of his endangered best friend helped him channel the energy he needed for them to listen.

"Lyra is in trouble, and we think it has something to do with the person who framed Hagrid. We don't know how, or why, but this has something to do with someone called Riddle."

McGonagall's face fell drastically, and she latched onto the back of the nearest chair, her nails almost splitting the fabric.

"E-Excuse me? What did you just say, Potter?"

"Lyra is in danger, and I think someone called Riddle is involved," he repeated, never moving his gaze from hers despite the overwhelming panic rising within. He was right. She knew who Riddle was — is — and he could see every fear he had reflected at him in her unusually bright eyes.

"What's going on?" One of the other teachers piped up, but McGonagall shook her head and looked around the room, sparkling tears catching behind her glasses.

"Merlin's beard… Everyone, I need you to guard the four common rooms indefinitely, make sure every student is accounted for and report any suspicious behaviour you see back to me please," the headmistress ordered breathlessly, smoothing her grey flyaways back into her neat bun and maintaining the facade that everything was fine.

"It is highly unlikely but be on the lookout for signs of the Unforgivable Curses being used amongst the children. You two," she locked eyes with the second years, "with me."

None of the teachers questioned McGonagall's motives when they swiftly left the staff room. Harry and Ron followed their head of house as she instructed them to keep close, neither of them daring to ask her anything until Harry recognised the path they were following and his heart jumped into his throat.

"Is Professor Dumbledore still here?" He blurted out as they arrived in front of the stone griffin that guarded the headmaster's office.

"No, but he will be," she answered curtly, refusing to look back at them as she muttered the password, "do not worry, Professor Dumbledore will know what to do."

His scar didn't like that. In fact, it told him there was nothing Dumbledore could do and the pessimistic thoughts followed him as they entered the office and locked the door.

She's wrong, we both know that… tick tock tick tock…

Professor McGonagall leapt into action straight away, leaving the boys to wander around the office by themselves as she conjured another glowing blue cat and sent it zooming through the nearest window. Harry bit back the urge to ask what spell she used when he noticed how solemn she looked, so he took a seat in front of her desk instead, consciously fighting back against the negative voices in his head. More time was being wasted, and Lyra was potentially being tortured right this very second.

No one can stop him… except you… Nobody can find Black, Potter… but you can… tick tock…

Harry winced and clutched his head, hunching forward on his knees to hide his pain. He had to do something, he had to find her, he had to go—

Suddenly flames greener than fresh summer grass ignited in the looming, grand fireplace that Ron was inspecting, and he jumped back with a yelp of shock as Professor Dumbledore stepped out and brushed off his shoulders.

He didn't look the least bit surprised to see Harry or Ron, and his infamous twinkle returned. The fire matched his height and shrunk within seconds, but the cracklings of leftover Floo powder covered the tense silence that happened upon the office. Harry gripped the arms of his chair and turned back to meet the former headmaster's luminous stare, and it compelled him to spill his guts without a second thought.

"Albus," McGonagall broke the silence first as she took a nervous step towards him, "he's here."

"Is Voldemort's real name Riddle?" asked Harry bluntly, and Dumbledore looked utterly crestfallen. Harry swore his heart dissolved, all he could see was Lyra's curly handwriting before him, forming sentences that turned his world upside down.

"How do you—?"

"Is it?"

"Yes, his real name is Tom Riddle," confessed Dumbledore quietly, and he took the seat designated for the headmistress' deputy. "Harry, have you met Tom?"

"No, but I think Lyra has, and I think he has her," admitted Harry, and he glanced at Ron to back him up. The intensity of Dumbledore's gaze weakened him a little, and Ron helpfully came to his rescue with a brief explanation as he caught his breath. His scar prickles forced him to clench his fists, there was no denying that it was causing him serious pain now.

"She's been acting kind of weird lately, well, actually for the majority of this year now that I think about it," Ron said nervously, trying to keep his head high as he spoke to Dumbledore, "and then Harry found a letter that Lyra wrote to someone called Riddle."

"She's been writing to him?" clarified McGonagall, appalled, "Albus, how is this possible?"

Something clicked in Harry's head.

"It has something to do with her diary," he spat out, eyes prickling as it settled over him, "she's been carrying that diary around all year, I don't know where it came from, and Hermione said Lyra panicked when she gave it to her a couple of days ago… The day she was petrified." Blood flushed his face, how could he have been so stupid?!

"Hermione figured it out, of course she did," sighed Ron, sounding just as feeble as he looked shrinking into his armchair.

"It's ok boys, we will find her," McGonagall rushed to comfort them without considering whether this was a promise she could keep. Dumbledore nodded before taking to his feet again, his knotted wand finding its way to his hand.

"I want you both to stay here, do not attempt to head back to the Gryffindor Tower," Dumbledore told them, using his most authoritative voice that made the boys sit up straight in their chairs, "do not talk to anyone, it is imperative that our knowledge of his presence here remains a secret that never leaves this office. It may seem overprotective now but you will soon understand why."

Harry audibly promised alongside Ron that they would sit tight and keep it a secret, but deep down he knew he had to break his word. They wouldn't find her in time, they wouldn't find her at all — Riddle was going to win and Harry was a lame duck, running to the headmaster for help like a coward.

You are weak…. But they are weaker. His scar hissed only in pain, but Harry was certain he heard its whispers. You know it's the only way… he doesn't like to be kept waiting…

"One last thing," Dumbledore paused at the door and offered Harry a wide smile that knocked a few years off his ageing face, "thank you for coming to us, Harry. You've shown more courage than we've given you credit for, and I want to assure you that whatever questions you have will be answered once we return."

The two teachers left the headmaster's office at once, leaving Harry and Ron in the dark both literally and metaphorically as they simmered in the confirmation of their worst fears. The mechanical ticking of the strange devices around the office filled the now quiet room, but it wasn't enough to distract them.

"Well then," Ron let out a whistle and turned to his best friend, rather content with how everything was working out, "I guess there's nothing else for us to do besides sit here and wait—,"

"We're leaving," Harry interrupted, leaping to his feet, "they're not going to find her."

"Aaand I should've expected that," Ron sighed tiredly, trying not to smile, "how's the scar?"

"Oh, yeah, bloody fantastic!" scoffed Harry, feeling rather touchy as the pain was now stinging his left eye, "if you don't count the constant burning and the fact that it feels like my face is melting off. Voldemort's definitely here, and I think my scar knows where he might be."

The hissing emanating from his scar told him to leave, and Harry wondered whether it would tell him where to go if he obeyed its command.

Leave the office and listen carefully, Potter, you'll be surprised what you can hear when you're focused…

Ron looked as though he was about to throw up, but he swallowed his unease and gave Harry an anxious yet hopeful smile.

"I'm just going to pretend that wasn't the creepiest thing you've ever said and hope you're right… but that doesn't mean I hope you're right that You-Know-Who is here. I've barely recovered from Aragog, I don't know whether I'm up for facing off against a dark wizard," said Ron as the voice of reason, and Harry gave him what he hoped seemed like a comforting slap on the shoulder. He had never felt more glad to have him by his side, he would've definitely done something far more stupid by now if he didn't have his best friend with him.

"You and I both, mate."

The change in atmosphere was the first thing they noticed when they emerged from the headmaster's office, it was the coldest May evening they'd ever had. The fiery late afternoon sky shone weakly through the windows, torches were lit but the shadows were winning. They could hardly see the ends of the corridors they crept through and a harsh draft had picked up around their ankles. The castle felt deserted, they didn't feel welcome and the boys immediately armed themselves.

"You said your scar might tell you where they are," Ron whispered once they made it to the grand staircases, a place they felt safe enough to talk, "what did you mean? Like, you can feel him?"

"It's hard to explain," uttered Harry, "it's whispering to me like I can hear what my scar is thinking. It has something to do with You-Know-Who, Dumbledore never really went into detail about it, but when I spoke to Lyra about it she interpreted it as if he's a part of me… or I'm a part of him. Like I'm You-Know-Who reborn."

"You can't take everything Lyra says literally, you know how dramatic she is," Ron countered, but his furrowed brows said otherwise.

"Yeah, my ability to talk to snakes and the fact my face burns whenever he is near are just flukes," scoffed Harry, but just as he thought about the snake he encountered at the Duelling Club premiere his ears tuned into the echoes around him that he first dismissed as wind.

You're getting closer… but you'll never make it in time, he's almost finished with her… she'll be too broken by the time you reach her…

It wasn't happening inside his head this time, Ron heard the hissing too and latched onto Harry's arm instinctively.

"What the hell was that?"

"It's coming from down there," Harry pointed towards the second-floor entrance beneath them, "keep your eyes down, don't look straight ahead."

They inched their way down the stairs and snuck onto the pitch-dark second floor where the lanterns refused to light. The shadows were blacker than before, and Harry knew by the pricking on the back of his neck that someone was watching them from behind the walls.

"Can you hear anything?" breathed Ron, wiping the nervous patches of sweat from his palms. Harry closed his eyes and waited for the whispers to find him, his scar was tingling with excitement again—

"MERLIN'S BEARD?!" Ron exclaimed as he jumped almost a foot into the air, breaking the heavy silence and scaring Harry half to death. He spun on his heel and raised his wand, staring into the darkness in alarm. "LYRA?!"

Harry's heart fell to his toes and he whipped his head around, desperate to see her — but no one was there.

"Hello?" Ron called out, eyes ballooning further at the invisible threat, "Who's there?"

"What are you doing?!" hissed Harry, thoroughly confused since he could never see nor hear anything that indicated they weren't alone, but Ron shook his head and stared back at him as though he had turned loopy.

"You didn't just hear that scream?! It sounded like a banshee! Someone's in trouble," Ron hissed back, his freckled face appearing gaunter in the pale darkness, and Harry blinked back. What scream?

"Huh?"

But Ron froze up and snapped his head back, goosebumps visibly popping up along his forearms as he shakily raised his wand again. Harry didn't have time to open his mouth and persuade Ron not to chase after the creepy, disembodied shriek that could be a trap, his vibrantly-haired friend bolted away into the shadows with one last terrified scream.

"HERMIONE! I'M COMING!"

It most certainly was a trap, and a good one too. They were caught completely off guard.

"Ron, no!" Harry gasped as he prepared to chase after him, but his scar stabbed him repeatedly and forced him to stay behind. Another trap lay waiting for him up ahead, and the malevolent spirit stalking him smiled as the end finally began.

The entrance you seek lies within the bathroom that was once haunted by a ghost… maybe her spirit will be replaced with another tonight?

His scar was eager to aid him in his quest, and Harry didn't want to waste any more time questioning its motives as he rushed off towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It was luring him to his death, and he followed Death so willingly.

Harry knew if he prolonged entering the bathroom he would end up never going in, so he threw the door open and barged inside with his eyes screwed up, his shoulders tensed, and his wand out in front of him. The pounding of his heart kept his adrenaline fresh in his veins as he pried his eyes open and slowly made his way around the empty girls' bathroom, trying not to jump every time a pipe gurgled ominously. There was no sign that anyone was there waiting for him, and Harry licked his dry lips as he summoned the courage to use his voice. Was this just another trap?

"I know you're in here," he called out, and his voice bounced off the walls as though emphasising each voice tremor, "show yourself, I'm not afraid…"

He hoped his lie sounded somewhat convincing as he felt his knees start to shake, but all sense of rhyme and reason shot out of his head like a bullet when he heard the Slytherin reply.

"Open for me…"

The scraping of hollow pipes groaned to life by the furthest fountain of sinks to his right, but Harry spun on the spot and watched in amazement as a gaping, dense black hole opened up in the wall before him.

It was eight feet in diameter and utterly horrifying to stare into. Where there were two sinks was now the entrance to the depths of the school, somewhere he knew he would see in his nightmares from now on. He couldn't tear his eyes away, it was like the darkness was alive and watching—

But then Harry saw her, and his mind went blank. His entire chest thumped wildly at the twinkling silver staring back at him in the blackness and he just couldn't look away. It had to be her… he'd recognise her eyes anywhere.

"Lyra," he breathed, so taken by her appearance that he slumped forward a little, "Thank goodness you're ok. What are you— I mean, what is this—?"

"Harry…" Lyra purred, gently slipping into the light so he could be seduced by her alluring, heavy eyes and softly spoken whispers of hope. She looked well, better than well in fact, he had never seen her look so… unreal.

Something about her transcended the natural world, and Harry began to panic that she was a figment of his desolate imagination.

"Come with me… I have a secret to tell you," Lyra promised, hypnotising him in a way only she knew how.

"Er, yeah, about the C-Chamber I assume?" He stammered, slowly being lured in by her deep, buttery tone, "Listen, we need to go—,"

"But I need to show you my secret before it's too late," she whispered, batting her lashes at him and pouting. "I promise… they wouldn't understand, but you will… you always understand me in a way no one ever has, Harry, and I need you now before it's too late..."

The last of the warm afternoon sky faded behind the bathroom's stained windows, allowing the darkness to infiltrate, yet Harry hardly noticed. He wasn't afraid of the dark, but small, confined spaces were a different story… and yet he'd crawl down the world's narrowest tunnel if Lyra asked.

"I… I don't know," he breathed as his reasons why they needed to flee disintegrated. She was so close that he could count her individual eyelashes. She had a small mole above her top lip, he never noticed it before…

"Come with me, Harry," Lyra whispered for the final time, intertwining her fingers with his and tugging him towards the exposed pipe, into the abyss where the danger lay waiting for him.

"Please… We can do anything you want to down there… I know what you want, what you dream of…"

Harry lost the first fight before it began.

"Ok…"