Chapter One – An Unkindness of Ravens
Disclaimer: I don't own anything ...

With a small pop, barely audible in the night's breeze, a figure appeared out of thin air.

There was nothing particularly mysterious about the winding country lane where the man had just appeared, on the one side where broad trees whose branches hung over the path like giant outstretched arms, only slithers of moonlight managing to creep through the overhanging leaves. On the other side was a shallow stream which trickled gently in the wind and was the only sound in earshot, aside from a soft hooting in the distance. No, there was nothing strange or out of place about this sleepy country lane, aside from the figure now standing in the middle of it, who was a most mysterious man indeed.

He was wearing a very shabby looking brown cloak, which had its hood up and completely covered the man's face. Its overlong patched sleeves covered most of the man's hands except for the tip of a wand, which he waved into the night causing the end to burst with light which illuminated the dark path around him with dazzling light. His odd appearance and weird behaviour were not the reasons why this figure would turn heads, if there were any heads to turn, but it was the plainly audible clicking noise emitting from inside the man's cloak which was so very strange. It was as if it were not a person beneath the raggedy cloak but an assortment of gears ticking slowly round like clockwork. The figure turned slowly on the sport, peering into the darkness making sure he was quite alone before raising his wand high and starting to walk down the path.

Along with the ticking, the man made a heavy clunking noise as he walked dragging his left leg behind him almost as though he was wearing a heavy metal boot on one foot. His left arm also seemed too heavy for him and it sagged quite motionless at his side while his other kept the wand raised above him. Now that the path was well lit it was obvious it had not been used for some time, the ground beneath lay uneven and overgrown and the figure stumbled around deep pools of muddy water which had formed in the middle. But this did not deter the mechanical man as he limped purposely up the path, making his way toward a large manor house which towered over the trees at the end of the disused lane.

The mysterious figure stopped suddenly, he had reached a rusting (but still impressive looking) pair of wrought-iron gates which barred him from the entrance to the manor. He paused where he stood as though trying to remember something, after a few moments he looked up defiantly, struggling for a moment to raise his seemingly heavy left arm and performed a kind of awkward salute. He then walked straight forward and through the imposing gates, as if they were made from smoke.

He finally reached the entrance to the large manor house, which looked undeniably worse for wear. The black tiled roof was almost completely dilapidated and most of the windows had been put throw, though some on the ground floor had been haphazardly boarded up. The Clematis Montana had grown out of control and tangled around most of the manor and made the structure look foreboding. Despite the fact every decaying inch of the building screamed abandonment the mechanical man hobbled up the gravel path regardless and up to the looming front doors. He rapped sharply on the oak with his heavy left hand which for a moment glinted in the wand light, the knocking sounded like a heavy hammer driving in a nail and echoed endlessly within the old manor.

This seemed to be a pointless exercise but after a short while, creaks could be heard from within, groans of aged floor boards being disturbed, something was clearly moving very slowly towards the entrance. Eventually the sounds stopped. There was a pause. Then the large doors were opened up barely a slither, which caused them to crack and groan with annoyance. Large jet black eyes shone in the night as the inhabitant surveyed the hooded figure tentatively through the gap.

'Who's th ... their!' he croaked, fear shaking through his voice with every syllable. The mechanical man stayed absolutely still for a few moments and didn't reply, staring through the small opening in the ancient door. Then, he slowly raised his left hand high and bathed himself in wand light and his large figure came into sharp relieve against the velvety blackness, but from within the hood only the faintest trace of red eyes could be seen.

'Oh, I see, frightened me you did' the inhabitant croaked before hastily unhooking a rusty chain and forcing the doors open. The man inside the manor was now also bathed in the cloaked man's wand light, which caused him to moan and raise stubby fingers to his eyes. He was very short by comparison and his face was incredibly wrinkled. His robes, like the manor house, look as if they were once grand, but were now frayed and incredible dirty, clinging to him like a second skin.

'Well, come in ... I suppose'

The elderly wizard turned and led the cloaked figure into the manor and across the remains of a grand entrance hall. The room had an overpowering rotting smell and all the furniture had been covered in cloth now greying with thick layers of dust, it too gave the appearance of a house long since abandoned by people. However, the two figures now passed through its shabby interior toward a small door on the other side, the mechanical man's left leg dragging across the ancient floor boards all the while. They made their way through a narrow wooden door and down a set of steep stone steps, at the bottom of which was what appeared to have been the manor's kitchen.

The cloaked figure followed the wizard haphazardly down these steps, his right hand still clutching his wand and his left steadying himself against the peeling wall opposite. Once they were at the bottom they were immediately bathed in a faint yellow glow, the kitchen was the only part of the house so far that had been lit by more than the cloaked man's wand as a few strategically placed candles were spread across the small room. The room itself was disgusting, there were empty bottles and the remains of past meals scattered across the worktops and floor and it appeared as if the wizard had decided to nest there rather then move in.

The cloaked man then flicked his wand extinguishing its light and placed it back into the depths of his robes. The room was now lit with just the candles, the old wizard was barely visible as he hastened around the room, muttering under his breath and hurriedly picking up bottles and stacking up plates, not making the slightest difference to the appearance of the filthy room. He soon gave up on his pointless task, or perhaps he didn't feel like he could avoid his guest any longer, he turned to face the clockwork man.

'Well...' he began nervously, his voice cracking like the ancient floorboards above 'you can sit down' he pointed a shaking finger to a rickety stool beside him 'I mean, if you like' he added quickly.

The cloaked man did not answer. He was scanning the room around him, the red eyes glowing dimly in the gap of his vast hood. They passed over the entirety of the room without making comment and it was a while before he finally dropped his gaze back to the wizard before him, who was now fumbling with the hem of his robes nervously, not daring to meet his fiery eyes. The mechanical man then arched his back suddenly, and there was a soft click from within his hood. The old wizard did not seem surprised by this, even when the sound of a static fizz filled the room, but simply winched when the clockwork man finally spoke, in a deep distorted voice, 'How long have you been living hear Grablewood?'

His voice was very strange, as if he were speaking through an old radio speaker, once he had finished speaking there was another click, and the static stopped. When Grablewood spoke next his voice shook slightly, but he didn't comment on the mechanical man's behaviour.

'Almost a year now' he said, looking surprised at his own answer.

The two figures stood for a moment, unspeaking. The sound of rain could now be heard softly pattering on the boards that covered the windows of the battered kitchen.

'I know why you're here' said the old wizard quietly, a foreboding tone to his gravelly voice 'I knew you'd find me in the end, you always find the people who run, you told me that the first time we met, remember?'

The clockwork man didn't answer; he just stared blankly back, unmoving.

'I thought you were just trying to scare me, well trying is the wrong word I suppose, you freighted the living daylights out of me' he pause and swallowed deeply, it seemed very painful to talk but he continued determinedly, 'I've had dreams about seeing you again, nightmares of what you would do to me should you find me, now that you're here ... well, I guess I've got nothing else to fear do I'.

There was a pause, before another click was heard from the clockwork man's hood and the same static fizz began before he spoke, his distorted voice sounding dangerous 'Oh no Grablewood, you still have much to fear from me'

The old wizard stepped back, and gave another deep swallow.

'You have alluded me far too long, I have searched tirelessly for five years now trying to track you down, too many times have you escaped me before I could break your feeble protective enchantments, too many times have I discovered your whereabouts only to find the hovels and dilapidated building you hid yourself in abandoned. Finally I have you, and you have much explaining to do'.

As the mechanical man spoke a pink tinge managed to penetrate the grime on the wizards blackened cheeks, when Grablewood next spoke he spluttered furiously, 'Now listen, just listen to me! You have to understand why I left, you must understand why I kept myself hidden from you ... I wasn't trying to hide from just you but everyone!' he gave a deep breath, attempting to calm his voice which still cracked unpleasantly as he spoke, 'They found out about me, about what I did during the war, about how I really started my business. They found documents in the department of mysteries, hidden papers kept by the death eaters, one was about me and my ... well I'm sure you known all of this, then one night the ministry came for me. Look I had to run and hide so no one could find me, even you! I knew it would mean you'd come for me but what choice did I have? And besides, if I'd have stayed I'd be in Azkaban now and I would be just as useless to you wouldn't I!' Again there was a pause as the two men stared at each other, the old wizard fumbled with his fingers and fidgeted on the spot, 'surely you under ...'

'You are a coward' interrupted the dark figure, 'no matter how you try and explain away your actions, you are a coward who ran at the first sign of trouble. I believe the ministry came for you, but do not pretend you were simply running from them, we could of hid you ourselves if that where the case, the truth is you used it as an excuse, so that when we met again you could claim innocence, that it wasn't us you were running from at all, did you really expect us to believe this?'

'Now hold on! I ...' Protested Grablewood, sweat started to drip down his crinkled forehead, 'No ... I suppose I didn't' he took a dirty cloth from his pocket and mopped his brow, 'but it was worth a try. Are you going to kill me now?'

'No' said the clockwork man, 'not until you answer me some questions, I'm not going to lie and tell you I'm going to let you live if you answer me truthfully, because I will not, but I will make your death quick, and believe me ... if I think you're lying to me, or not telling me everything you know, I can make you death very painful, do you understand?'

'I ... I do' said Grablewood almost breathlessly, his eyes where wide with panic now and they kept darting to the entrance to the kitchen, which was barred by the looming figure.

'First of all, tell me what you know of an obscure figure in history, known as The Inventor?' there was a distant crack, and the rain quickened against the wooden boards on the kitchen windows.

'Oh!' said Grablewood, looking surprised 'he was ... he was, well an inventor, he died a very long time ago I think, they say he used to make strange machines, he was quite famous for it at the time, suppose to be a genius, that is until one day one of his machines blows up and kills him, no one really knows how or why, why do you want to know about him?'

'That pathetic tale tells less than half of the real story, like most people you have no idea of his greatness, most don't even know his real name, but I have not come here to discuss his death, but rather... his life'.

'Well, I mean, I'm not an expert. I don't know much about him, what do you expect?' Grablewood stopped suddenly as the mechanical man gave a long, rattling breath which seemed to drain all the blood from the aged wizards face. He stood their petrified as the figure reached into his cloak and withdrew his hand which glittered briefly in the candle light. The wizard flinched, but it wasn't a wand he had reached for but instead a small piece of parchment, which he held out in front of him for Grablewood to take.

'Stop your pointless mutterings and listen to me, all we want to know is where this is'.

Grablewood took the piece of parchment with his shaking hands; it had a drawing of a strange object on it. With a moments glance his eyes widened and his breathing became even more rapid, it was clear that all of his worst fears where now realised.

'This? This has something to do with ... this is what you're after?' he said looking shocked.

'We know you had it last, we know you tried to get rid of it, now look at me and answer the question... where is it?' the cloaked man said this very first, it was clear that whatever was on that piece of parchment was incredibly important to him.

'I didn't, you're mistaken' whispered Grablewood, his black eyes staring at the parchment, as if mesmerised by it.

'DO NOT GIVE ME THAT, TELL ME WHERE IT IS!' Boomed the clockwork man, his distorted voice filling the small manor kitchen, Grablewood didn't even look up from the parchment, instead he shook his head slowly, still mesmerised by whatever was on it. 'Well' said the figure finally, breathing deeply, his outburst seemed to tire him greatly, 'It seems you are not going to cooperate, I told you I could make your death very painful, didn't I?' He once again reached into his concealing cloak, 'luckily, I came prepared'.

This time, it was not his hand which shone brightly in the candle light, but was the long blade of a dagger which he had just withdrawn. It looked very menacing, the long thin blade protruding from the base was covered in ancient symbols, it also had a number of spindly metal spikes sticking out along the blade at all angles, like spider's legs dipped in silver. Grablewood was still looking down at the piece of old parchment and was completely oblivious to the mechanical man, who now took out his wand and tapped the top of the blade.

'You will tell me everything you know, whether you want to or not', the dagger began to vibrate. The symbols glowed red. The blade burst into white hot flames and without him moving a muscle, it shot from his hand and darted straight for Grablewood's chest. The old wizard raised his head seconds before the dagger struck; his wrinkled face barely had time to form into a look of pure terror as the blade hit him squarely in the chest and he too burst into white hot flames.

Malfoy manor was now consumed in a torrent of flames, which raised high above its now blacked timbers and bellowed thick smoke into the night's sky. The chaos could be seen for miles around, included the top of a distant hill side shielded by trees, which was where the clockwork man now stood, watching.

'What did he say?' said a deep voice in the darkness.

The cloaked man turned suddenly, looking out into the blackness.

A figure appeared in front of him, he too was wearing a thick brown cloak just like the clockwork man's, except it was not patched or frayed, it also had a large red stripe painted on the chest.

Yet another click came from within the cloak before he spoke 'Not much more then we already knew about the item itself, I don't think he ever really realised what it was. I wasn't expecting you here, it could be dangerous, my master'.

'I doubt that' he replied in the same deep voice, unconcerned, 'did he not tell you what we needed to know, about where it is? About who has it now? I would be most displeased if we had spent so long chasing a dead end'

'He did, but I doubt you will like this information very much'

'It is not your place to presume how I will interpret information, do remember that, you may only have a brain left but perhaps you should use it a little less' said the deep voice scathingly.

'They are at Hogwarts master, the wizard's school'

There was a pause, then the man spoke again, 'this will need a lot of planning, we cannot afford to make mistakes, if we move too soon and frighten the person into hiding we could put our plans back yet more years. I think you understand me, don't you, my servant?'

'Yes, my master'