A/N: Vampireking40 caught a mistake that no one else saw, and called me out on it. Thank you for the good catch, and I have corrected it. I count on my fans to spot these minor errors to help me keep my fics as accurate as possible in the AU universe in which I like to play.

SEVENTH

AUGUST 27, 1991

THE DAILY PROPHET

DIARIES OF A MADMAN?

Albus Dumbledore, in his own words

Betty Braithwaite, reporter

Here they are, gentle readers. We will now begin to reveal the true thoughts and feelings of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, in his own words. We have several diaries, written by the esteemed headmaster, and we will be printing two entries per issue, until all of the diaries have been revealed. Over the following weeks, we will learn the true motivations of Dumbledore, as well as any secrets he has kept from the wizarding world. These diaries go back to just after his sister was assaulted, and continue until the death of Harry Potter. Apparently, the copies that were forwarded to us had self-updating charms on them, so that anything written after they were first discovered and hidden away would appear within their pages. The letter that came with them also stated that these were the originals, with copies left where the diaries were discovered to prevent the headmaster from becoming suspicious that anyone was trying to spy on him. It is my assumption, good readers, that the anonymous benefactor of all of this information somehow knew Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore for the Machiavellian mastermind that he truly is.

August 13, 1890

Dear Diary,

Father was taken away by the Aurors today. The muggle boys that hurt Ariana were found brutalized, and Father readily admitted that he'd done it out of revenge. I don't blame him one bit. Ariana was a bright, shining star, and what those animals did to her is unforgivable. If Father hadn't have exacted his pound of flesh, I would have. I understand that we must live here because this is where Father grew up, and Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, and so on, but it is disgusting to be near so many muggles! They are so very far beneath us on the evolutionary scale that it's pathetic. They have no true intelligence to speak of; they're merely cattle, for Merlin's sake! What are you going to do? As children, we are hostages to our parents' whims. I'll be glad when I finally get old enough to strike out on my own. Then, I'll use my power to enslave the muggle menace once and for all. Prove to all of them who their true masters really are.

August 31, 1890

Dear Diary,

I am so furious! Father was sentenced to Azkaban! For defending his family! What is this world coming to when muggles have more rights than magicals? I don't understand! Don't they know that Father was just putting them in their place? Don't they understand that the muggles are beneath us? All of this muggle-loving and cooperation is going to end us all! Mark my words! The end of the wizarding world as we know it is at hand!

Tom set the paper down and looked at his protégé, a large grin on his face. Since Corvus' talk with Tom a week ago, the older man had begun to change the wizarding world's perception of him. He'd taken to heart the idea that he could use his past and those painful lessons to strengthen his hold on the power he'd amassed, and turn it to benefit the wizarding world. His minions were ecstatic; finally, a purpose and plan they could get behind. "What's got you so cheerful, Tom?" Corvus asked curiously, enjoying the glee on the older man's face.

"They're releasing the diary entries from Dumbledore's journals. Apparently, the anonymous sources had hidden them away, with self-updating charms on them, so we'll get to see how Dumbledore's quest for power grew. The entries stop after your unfortunate murder, so we'll get to see how he plotted and planned to use you, as well as me, to further his agenda. When these entries are finished, he'll be a pariah in the wizarding world. I simply can't wait to see him fall."

Oh sweet, merciful Merlin, Dumbledore thought desperately as he stared at the paper, aghast. How have they gotten these diaries? Who has done this? Why? What did I ever do to deserve this? "Gods above," he moaned aloud, turning to stare at the headmaster and headmistress portraits. Many of them stared back with revulsion, but one smirked delightedly at the Lord of the Light. "What right do they have to publish private information like this?" he snapped, staring at Phineas Nigellus Black angrily.

"You may consider that question, and apply it to others," Black said smugly. "Until the unfortunate 'accident' to your Savior, you did absolutely nothing to protect his good name. You allowed that scandal rag to publish whatever stories they saw fit as to the disappearance of the child after his parents were murdered. You allowed them to speculate on his abduction, by the Dark Lord, from Godric's Hollow that Halloween night. You permitted them to slander his good name by assuming that he was being 'trained' to be the next Dark Lord by that very same man. You knew the truth behind the disappearance of Harry Potter, and yet you did nothing to dissuade the rampant speculation and rumor-mongering. You even went so far as to forbid the Ministry from telling anyone that the boy was 'safe'.

"Safe," Black scoffed, glaring at the headmaster with contempt. "What a joke. You condemned an innocent to death, in your blind arrogance thinking that muggles would actually take care of him. Even with your own experiences on how muggles treat those unlike themselves, you assumed that his muggle relatives would somehow be different. I wholeheartedly support and applaud your unknown attacker. No one deserves this kind of attention more than you do."

"Ah, Ms. Skeeter. A pleasure. Please come in." Albus held the door to his office open for the reporter. He had noticed that her byline hadn't appeared in the Daily Prophet since this catastrophe began, and he was more than ready to use her to his own ends.

"What's this about, Dumbledore?" the woman asked bluntly, eyes narrowed suspiciously. She may not have been able to report on any of the information about the headmaster, but that didn't mean that she wasn't thoroughly enjoying his fall. She had hated the man ever since he became headmaster; she hated his arrogance, and his lofty ideals. She knew what muggles were really like; she had made the mistake of entering muggle London a few years ago, attempting to follow a story lead. Because of her eccentric dress and her abrasive attitude, she had been hounded by some rough looking men until she had fled back into the Leaky Cauldron and back to Diagon Alley. The idea that wizards would be accepted by them was absurd, and it chilled her to the bone to know that the man before her would be instrumental in destroying their way of life.

"Well, my dear Rita, I would like to do an interview with you. I wish to allay many of the fears the wizarding world is experiencing right now, what with all of those scandalous stories in the Prophet lately."

"An interview?"

"Why, yes, of course. I would first like to make a statement, if I may, then you may ask whatever question you wish." Rita scrambled for her parchment and a Quick Quotes Quill, setting it to the paper before nodding her readiness. "Let me just say that our Savior is not dead."

"But the papers reported that Harry Potter died," the beetle animagus interjected.

"Unfortunately, that is true," Albus replied with feigned sorrow. He had to walk a thin line very carefully here, or he would make the reporter suspicious. "However, he was not our Savior. I speak of Neville Longbottom, our true Savior."

"Longbottom? The boy whose parents were tortured to insanity? That Longbottom?"

"Of course. He is the one set down by prophecy to save the wizarding world."

AUGUST 28, 1991

THE DAILY PROPHET

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW!

Albus Dumbledore Tells All!

Rita Skeeter, reporter

In a shocking turn of events, Albus Dumbledore contacted this reporter to tell his side of the story. He had wanted to clear up some misunderstandings, and asked me to relate the tale. First of all, he assured me that the Savior of the wizarding world is not, in fact, dead. The boy chosen by prophecy to save us all from You Know Who is none other than Neville Longbottom. Dumbledore insisted that the Longbottom heir was the true Boy Who Lived, and that Harry Potter was used as a distraction, to keep public attention away from the Longbottom boy until he was ready to take up his mantle of Warrior for the Light. He then went on to explain that all of the information printed about him over the past few weeks was nothing but lies made by those who wish to take attention away from the real matters at hand; namely the upcoming war with He Who Must Not Be Named. He spoke of the underhanded way that the Dark wizards used private, personal information and twisted it to say something completely different from what was intended. As for Grindelwald, Dumbledore categorically denied any personal involvement with the Dark wizard, and had no idea how he had survived that fateful duel.

I went to the Longbottom residence, to follow up on the information, and was stunned to find that the Manor was empty, and had looked abandoned. I could not verify in any way Dumbledore's claims that the Longbottom heir was, in fact, the Boy Who Lived. If this child is, in fact, the true Savior, why run? Why hide? Where did he go? Is this yet another lie perpetrated by the headmaster? One more lie piled on top of a lifetime of lies? Dumbledore had failed to explain to my satisfaction exactly why the Aurors would be interested in the pensieve memories and information if it was, in fact, fabricated. When I asked him that, he hemmed and hawed, bluffing his way through his answer worse than Cornelius Fudge does when he's caught with his pants down.

And what of Harry Potter? Was he the true Savior, as was told to us when his parents were murdered? If he was, is Longbottom the only scapegoat Dumbledore could find to fit the parameters of this supposed prophecy? Is the prophecy even real? Stay tuned, faithful readers, for I will not rest until I have my answers.

"That bitch!" the headmaster snarled, crumpling up the paper and throwing it into the fireplace. He paced angrily around his office, scowling fiercely. Dammit! The one ally I thought I could count on, and she turns on me. That's all right, though. I'll fix her. She is unaware that I know she is an unregistered animagus. I'll 'arrange' for her ability to be revealed, and see her rot in Azkaban.

"Tom?" came a quiet voice. Riddle and Corvus were in the boy's bedroom, getting the child ready for bed.

"Yes?"

"How…how am I going to get to Durmstrang tomorrow? Do we take a coach, or a train, or…?"

"Durmstrang is…difficult to find. The school is constantly moving, so that no one with an agenda can find it and shut it down. They have a ship that they use to transport the students. You know that very large lake near the end of the property?" At the child's nod, Riddle continued. "Well, we will stand on the dock that juts out into the lake, and the ship will rise from below the surface."

"Really?" Corvus asked, eyes wide and excited.

"Yes, really. Draco, Theodore, Blaise and Gregory will be waiting with you. They will be here early in the morning, so you need to get some rest."

"Tom?"

"Yes, Corvus?"

"Thank you. For everything. I…I love you." Ruby eyes widened at the confession, and the snakelike visage softened slightly.

"I love you, too, Corvus," the older man replied softly, surprised when the boy suddenly sat up and wrapped his arms around Tom's neck. The Dark Lord reciprocated, wrapping the small boy into his arms and squeezing tight. He felt Corvus pull back slightly, and a soft kiss was brushed against his cheek. He carefully guided the child back down to his pillows, looking into emerald eyes solemnly. "I expect you to do me proud, young man. I have every confidence that you will be at the top of your classes, and I expect you to be home on the weekends."

"I can come home?" the boy asked in a hushed whisper.

"Yes, you may. This will always be your home, and I will miss you terribly, unless you visit me regularly."

"That's good. I'm going to miss you, too."

"Corvus!" Draco shouted as soon as he exited the floo. Behind him came Blaise, Theo, and Greg, all smiling. Their familiars were in carriers, and their trunks floated behind them. Their fathers had come with them, and the crowd of people slowly made their way out into the gardens and to the lake at the back of the property. Nervousness thrummed through the children as they waited patiently for the ship to make its appearance. As they watched the surface of the lake, eyes widened as they saw the water froth and foam, before the prow of the ship broke through the surface, the large pirate vessel flowing from beneath the foam to sit on the gently rippling water. A gangplank lowered from the side, and a tall, dark haired, stocky fourteen year old boy marched elegantly down the walkway, stopping at the end to snap smartly to attention. He bowed shallowly from the waist, then turned, right arm held out at a ninety degree angle from his body, indicating that it was time for the boys to board. With last minute instructions and hugs, the five preteens trooped up the gangplank, the older teen falling into step behind them. At the entrance, the boys turned one more time to wave frantically at their parents before disappearing into the bowels of the schooner. The gangplank slowly lifted into place, sealing the craft's hull before the vessel slowly dropped beneath the surface of the lake again, disappearing from sight soon after.

"The boys are safely on their way," Riddle said as he turned toward the shore. His Inner Circle fell into step behind him, and they marched back to the manor, going directly to Tom's office, where they sat for a few moments. "Lucius, it should be about time for you to go to the Hogwarts Express, to keep an eye on the rest of the children."

"My Lord," the blond bowed his head, before rising and flooing back to his manor.

"This sucks," Pansy muttered belligerently as she watched the crowds on platform 9¾ scurry about, trying to get their things on the train. A snorting laugh from behind the group had them jumping and spinning in place, eyes wide on the Malfoy patriarch.

"Come, children," the blond said, smiling kindly at the group. "We must get you safely aboard the train and ensconced in a carriage before the other students" said with a disdainful curl of his lip, "take all the good ones." He hurried them along with sweeps of his arms, his Malfoy mask firmly in place. He boarded the train behind the students, ensuring that they had a compartment to themselves, securely warded, before he left the train. He stepped up to one of the open windows and leaned forward for a moment. "I will be there before you," he said softly, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. "I will be standing at the back of the Great Hall during your sorting, and I will be observing the headmaster. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am there, and Severus will protect you, as well."

"Thank you, sir," Daphne murmured softly, smiling at the older man. Nodding, Lucius stepped back and watched as the train slowly made its way out of the station. Looking around for a moment and watching the other parents disperse, he turned on the spot, apparating to the front gates of Hogwarts, where Filch was waiting to let him in. He nodded a greeting to the caretaker, who winked back as he closed the small gateway that Lucius had entered through. He followed the Malfoy patriarch at a discreet distance, watching the blond's back to ensure that no one attacked him as he made his way into the school and to the dungeons. He made his slow way to Severus' quarters, knocking lightly on the Potions Master's chamber door. Severus opened the door, letting the blond into his rooms and closing his door, warding it for privacy.

"The children are on their way, and Corvus is heading to Durmstrang," Malfoy told the Potions Master. The dour man nodded his head before offering refreshments. The two men settled in front of the fire to await the evening's festivities, refusing to speculate on what would undoubtedly be an entertaining evening.

The first years trooped in behind McGonagall, eyes wide on the enchanted ceiling. They stopped in front of a rickety stool, on which a battered felt hat rested. Their eyes widened further when the brim split open, revealing a mouth. "There will be no sorting song this year," the piece of cloth said solemnly, silencing the Great Hall effectively. "I wish to have a moment of silence, to remember the loss of the Savior of the wizarding world." Hushed whispers fled throughout the Hall, before Severus stood.

"Silence!" he snapped harshly, glaring around at everyone. "You will show the proper amount of respect for your fallen comrade." He sat again, watching Albus from the corner of his eye. He had to fight the smirk that wanted to spread across his face at the monumental pout the pseudo-headmaster wore when the hat had announced the death of Harry Potter in grand style. There was no way that the venerable old man could claim any sort of plausible deniability now.

McGonagall shook out the parchment containing all the names of the first years after the moment was over, and began to call the students up one at a time. Albus seemed to perk up slightly as she got to the Gs, but when she blew past Granger and onto Greengrass, he scowled angrily. Where the hell is she, he thought furiously. If all else failed, she was to be my ace in the hole. Now what am I supposed to do?