"The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."
J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

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CHAPTER FOUR

HOGWARTS

A sudden coldness engulfed me the instant my feet touched the ground and Voldemort relinquished his grip on my arm. Two dementors, one on each side, stood watchful, their skeletal hands resembling claws. Iron bars towered before me, spelled to keep people not only out, but in.

I took a step back, knowing I had no defence against the creatures. A man approached from beyond the gates and tapped the lock with his wand; they swung open with an eerie creak. The man gave a bow. Voldemort glided forward. Without hesitation, I followed.

Clouds concealed the sky, and even through my cloak the wind was like ice. The castle ahead looked like a fortress. Inside the doors, though the air was warm, the feeling was no different. The empty hallways lined with closed doors and silent portraits gave the impression of walking through a prison.

A sudden ringing filled my ears and my footsteps ceased to echo; I realised that Voldemort had cast a spell to keep me from hearing the Headmaster's password. My head swayed from the pressure, while he watched me with his cold gaze. A spiral staircase started to rise behind the stone gargoyle. The ringing stopped.

"I shall return in one hour," Voldemort said. "Do not wander."

He turned away, and I followed Rookwood up to a circular room.

There was something about spending time around killers, drinking tea with them and talking casually. It was easy to forget how dangerous they were.

"What's your deal?" I blurted out. "Why did you take this job?"

Rookwood took a slow sip, deliberately delaying his response. Then he said, "Why not? Someone had to." His face was battle-worn and he had a raspy voice. Now that I thought about it, he looked like Palpatine from Star Wars.

A few of the portraits behind the desk watched with curious looks. The rest appeared to be sleeping. My gaze hinged for a second on a shiny sword mounted on the wall.

"I don't trust you," I said, meeting his olive eyes.

"I could say the same," said Rookwood, "but that would get us nowhere. I thought you had something to discuss."

I reminded myself that anything I said to him would almost certainly later be repeated to Voldemort, and then replied, "Severus expected me to take his place. I want to make sure you're not going to hurt any children."

A flicker of movement caught my eye; it seemed to have come from Dumbledore's portrait, but when I glanced over, he appeared once again to be asleep.

"Why would I do that?" Rookwood said in a tone that might have sounded pleasant from someone who was not a murderer. His eyes glinted. "Murder is a messy business. Even with a method as clean as the Killing Curse, you still have a body to deal with, and then there are usually family members who might try to retaliate… It is not something I enjoy doing. I assure you, the students are quite safe."

"What about the Carrows? You can't let them run unchecked."

He smiled. There was danger in his eyes, but somehow I got the impression that he agreed with me. "If they want to keep their jobs, they will abide by my orders, and they have never been given express permission to engage in needless torture. Is that all?"

I poured myself more tea, indicating that it was not all. "We have an hour; I intend to use all of it. It's not often that I get to spend time away from Headquarters."

"He keeps you busy."

I shrugged. "More like confined. I'm not allowed to go anywhere without his permission." Hot liquid tickled my tongue. My eyelids flickered. "Is it really as hopeless as I think? Am I really stuck here forever?"

"What do you mean?" asked Rookwood.

"He broke my Time-Turner. Did he not bother to tell you?"

"Time-Turners do not generally appear out of nowhere. Someone has to make them."

"But…" I paused, wondering if he might have been subtly revealing something important. "But even if I could make another one, and make it go forward, how can I be sure that it'll take me back to my time, and not somewhere entirely different?"

"How can you be sure that your time still exists—or that it ever existed outside your mind? Remember that the Alternate Universes Theory is still only a theory, despite what you think you've proven."

This time, I definitely saw Dumbledore blink.

"That doesn't make sense. If my time never existed, how am I alive?"

"What is time, exactly? Someone had to know in order to create a device that can manipulate it."

I swallowed, and for a moment I was no longer wondering about his motives, and not at all concerned about what he might tell Lord Voldemort. There was a whisper, "I have absolutely no idea."

Somehow, admitting that I still had so much left to learn brought me relief. It was as good as an affirmation that my life was still worth something.

"What is it?" I then said. "Do you know?"

Rookwood sipped his tea, but it didn't look like an intentional delay. He seemed to be thinking. "You still want to be an Unspeakable? You would pass up the opportunity to rule?"

Voldemort would never let me rule, I thought. He's planning to kill me the moment he doesn't need me anymore. "Yes," I said, my voice firm.

"Why?"

A deliberate smirk played across my face. "Why do you find that surprising? I'm a Ravenclaw."

"Is that so? You said before that you were in Slytherin."

"The hat put me in Slytherin because I was so determined to follow family tradition that I spent precisely five minutes and seventeen seconds arguing with it."

I checked my watch; my breathing quickened. "I want to know everything. And there's nothing I hate more than lies. That's my problem with Lord Voldemort's regime." Rookwood flinched, but I did not pause. "It's absurd. Muggle-borns are stealing magic? What kind of idiot would believe that? And don't get me started on all the bullshit Alecto's been teaching. I can't stand it."

My watch ticked. Rookwood nodded, and then said with perfect calm, "How do you know what Alecto has been teaching?"

Astoria. My heart pounded, threatening to escape my chest. This was definitely going to get back to Voldemort. What would he think? What would he do? I swallowed, and forced my brain to think up an excuse, fast.

The answer came with a smirk. "I ask questions."

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"Has the situation been resolved to your satisfaction?" Voldemort said.

"It has, my Lord."

The gates opened, and I felt his long fingers close around my arm just as a wave of hopelessness struck me. In a second it was gone, and then we stood before a different pair of iron bars; yet another prison masquerading as something else. He pushed me through before I could regain my balance, and I was forced to walk ahead of him up to the front door.

I stopped just short of the stairs, my hand gripping the banister, and blinked several times. He was watching me.

"Scorpius," Voldemort said suddenly, sounding out the final 'S' like a hiss. Only my head moved to look at him. "How have you been feeling lately?"

What? Did he just ask me—

"Tell me. I will not punish you."

My lips parted. There was a short pause, then I started to analyse everything I had felt over the past week or so, "Annoyed with your Death Eaters' stupid decisions. Frustrated with your distrust. Angry—just… in general. Bloody exhausted."

"I see." His tone was clinical, like that a Healer would use. Somehow, it was frightening. "If you need anything, you only need to tell me."

It was a lie. He could not possibly—he didn't even know how to care. He only wanted me alive and in good health so that I could think properly, because I was useless otherwise.

A sudden emptiness stirred somewhere inside of me, and I heard myself say, "Whatever you're trying to do to me, you won't succeed. The only thing I want is truth, and you, my Lord, are nothing but a liar."

The second the words were out of mouth, his hand that had not quite been far enough away pulled me up by the throat, his white fingers squeezing, and he spoke in a quiet, dangerous hiss, "What did you say?"

A moment passed; he squeezed tighter.

"—Ca—can't—"

"Breathe?" With a merciless laugh, Voldemort dropped me onto the floor, and for a moment I sat there, gasping, and my hand grasped the handle of my wand. I backed against the wall, staring him down.

"Don't try it, Scorpius," he said, not a hint of concern in his voice. "Remember the warning I gave you last time? You don't want that, do you?" He almost sounded like he was teasing me.

Last time. The time I had threatened to slit my own throat with a Sectumsempra. He had called me a worthless coward, and after I had dropped my wand, he had warned me that if it ever happened again, the word 'privacy' would no longer have any meaning for me. So much for gaining leverage via suicide threats.

I rose, and stowed my wand away. "I'm going to sleep. I will not be late for tomorrow's lesson." Tomorrow was Tuesday. Combat training. Not going to be fun.

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The investigation had failed. Astoria's report was concise, yet thorough, and it revealed nothing that I had not witnessed myself. '9:46 p.m. Tom Riddle enters through the front gate, accompanied by Scorpius Malfoy, led by Augustus Rookwood. 9:51 p.m. They enter the castle, front doors.' It continued, describing the path up to the Headmaster's office at roughly two-minute intervals.

Then, '10:02 p.m. AR enters Headmaster's office, followed by SM. TR turns around.' He left. He returned an hour later. There was nothing suspicious at all.

Did this mean that there was no Horcrux hidden at Hogwarts? But if there was… would he really see the need to check on it? He had always been arrogant…

I closed the book and stuffed it back inside my mokeskin pouch. For a moment I sat there, thinking, and slowly, it became more and more obvious that I felt good, and maybe that was why Voldemort had indulged my request to speak to Rookwood. I liked talking to him. He was probably the only person in the world who I considered to be my intellectual equal, and who I was not afraid of, besides Snape, but Snape was…

My head fell back against the pillow, and the thought occurred to me that aside from an enjoyable conversation over tea with a psychopathic murderer, I had been inside Hogwarts—the most probable hiding place for Ravenclaw's diadem—and accomplished absolutely nothing. And then I associated the thought with the known hiding place of Hufflepuff's cup—after all, anyone could enter Gringotts and not come within an inch of touching the Horcrux.

My head turned, and I felt… something hard… underneath my pillow? I reached back and pulled it out. A wooden box, small and thin, almost like for holding jewellery. I cast Lumos, and my fingers lifted the lid.

A silver chain, with a tiny hourglass on the end. I blinked, expecting it to disappear. I blinked again, expecting to wake up from a dream. Then I saw a folded scrap of parchment tucked beneath the chain.

You have paid the price to change your family's history, but the price of victory is greater still. Your own freedom will not be enough. Are you prepared to sacrifice everything?

The words were printed; there was no particular handwriting, and the note gave no signature.


A/N: I am trying to keep consistent weekly updates, but I have been busy with an original project that (naturally) takes priority, so next chapter (very tentatively titled 'Manufactured Luck') should be done by 12 April, though I make no promises.

Please review. Criticism is appreciated (seriously, I have never felt more insecure about a story in my life, someone please tell me what's not working so I can hurriedly rush to fix it). If I don't reply, it's because I'm super busy, but I do try really hard to write better.