CHAPTER NINE:
FAMILY HEIRLOOM
It was a full week later before Lionel returned. When he did, he was quite sad. Lionel's father Neville had told him that his great-gran was very hard-nosed when Neville was a boy. However, the old woman had positively doted on Lionel. As a result, his great-gran and Lionel had developed a deep relationship as he was growing up.
"I can't believe she's really gone," said Lionel, as the four of them spoke in study hall. He looked directly at Abby. "How do you deal with it? It hurts so bad..."
Abigail put her arm around Lionel and comforted him. He did his best not to cry. Rose patted his arm and Wesley just looked glum. It couldn't have been more obvious that he had no idea what to do for Lionel.
"You just kind of let yourself think about her, let yourself feel it. Remember all the happy times you had anytime you start to feel sad. Let it fill you up inside, and eventually the bad feeling goes away," said Abby.
"Okay, I'll tried that," Lionel sniffled. Then he whispered, "I need to talk to you in private." Abby thought quickly, "We'll meet in front of the kitchens tonight one hour before bedtime."
Lionel nodded. "See you later," he mumbled.
Harry decided he should follow up on his hunch of investigating the concurrent murder cases. It was time to head to Hogwarts School. The person he wanted to interview was most likely there anyway. But he decided he should contact Hermione and Minerva first. And so it was with mixed emotions that he returned to his old school.
"Well, hello, Professors," Harry greeting the two women in the foyer of Hogwarts. "And hello, Snidget," said Harry.
"Welcome, Harry."
"Hi, Harry."
"Hello, Daddy!" Abigail embraced him. It was nice to have the perfect excuse to come to the school and see her in her Gryffindor robes and tie. Harry felt immense pride swell up in his chest. "Why are you here?"
"Just a little work," he said. "It's lovely to see you! You look amazing in your Gryffindor colors! Thank you so much for writing your letters. Your mum and I love them to bits! Max, too. They both send their love."
"Are you here investigating Dolohov?" Abby said mysteriously. Harry blinked. How would his 11-year-old girl possibly know the reason why he was here?
"You know, Diabolos," explained Abby, "the boy I wrote you about."
"Oh!" said Harry. "Of course!" He sighed in relief. "I can't tell you why I'm here, Snidget. But maybe we'll give ol' Diabolos a run for his money while we're here," he winked at her conspiratorially.
"Not if I can help it," Hermione said with a smirk. Minerva just shook her head.
"It's time for you to head off to class, Miss Potter," said the Headmistress. Abby pouted slightly.
"Okay," she said. She gave Harry one last hug. "Love you, Daddy! Thanks for coming!" She skipped off down the hall to class with the rest of her classmates.
"Thank you for allowing me to be here," Harry said to the two women in front of him.
"Of course," Minerva replied, "anything we can do to help your investigation."
"I apologize for having to come here under these circumstances, but it's good to be back here," Harry said. "Is Professor Malfoy here?"
"Shockingly enough, yes," said Minerva, "he requested one day off for his father's funeral and that was it. Do you wish to speak with him?"
"Yes, please," said Harry. "Do you have some place secure where we could speak?"
"You may use this office," she said, gesturing to her own. "It has every counter-listening jinx and dark magic repellent known to man cast upon it."
"Thank you," Harry said.
"We're actually really glad you came here, Harry. We really can't to help," Hermione said.
"We'll see if you can," he replied. Hermione volunteered to take over the potions class so Harry could talk to Draco. Harry couldn't remember the last time he spoke to the man, so he didn't quite know what to expect.
"Hello, Draco," Harry greeted, upon the blonde man's entrance to the office. "I appreciate your leaving class to talk with me." Draco sat in front of him at the large desk in the room, steepled his fingers, and nodded. "I assume you know why I'm here?" said Harry.
"You are here, no doubt, to investigate my father's murder. My estranged father's murder," Draco emphasized. Harry noted it.
"How long have you been estranged?" asked Harry.
"Twenty years. Ever since I fought for the light against his master," Draco answered hollowly. "It was after the vampire battle at Hogwarts that he decided to disown me," he added meaningfully.
"Hermione and Ron told me what you did by joining Dumbledore's Army back then." Harry paused. "Thank you." Draco nodded once. Then Harry said, "I also need to thank you for saving my daughter."
"What?" Draco said. He was clearly mystified.
"Abigail wrote me about how you stopped Diabolos Dolohov from attacking her. She wanted me to tell you she was very grateful."
Draco got a faint smile on his face as he answered, "Oh yes. I doubt 11-year-olds could do very much damage to each other, but when a student raises his or her wand against another student, it's a serious offense, as you know." Then he dropped the smile. "You really need to teach your daughter how to defend herself. Daibolos had his wand pointed straight at her face, and she still wouldn't raise her wand."
Harry absorbed this information slowly. Was it true that Abby was going to just allow that boy to attack her? It hardly seemed real—she was in Gryffindor, after all. Was his little Abigail fearful of getting hurt? Was that why she hadn't raised her wand? Or was it a conscious choice, like she said? It was odd to think that his own child might not be brave. But then he quickly reminded himself why he had segued to the Dolohov boy to begin with.
"I never knew Antonin Dolohov had a son," Harry said, changing the subject.
Draco sat back in his chair and looked at Harry for some time before replying. "Neither did I, until the magic quill here wrote a letter to send to Diabolos's parents. But then again, lots of Death Eaters have sons." Now it was Harry's turn to sit back in his chair. So Draco had caught the hidden meaning of Harry's last statement. Good man. Although Draco didn't know it, Harry himself could be considered the son—or at least the son-in-law—of a former Death Eater.
"Yes, that's true," Harry agreed. "But not all of their sons are in eminent danger."
Draco looked at him sharply. "What are you saying?"
"We have reason to believe that the person who killed your father and my mother-in-law is the same individual. In fact, there has been another murder, at Azkaban this time. And the only connection the murders have is that all the victims are former Death Eaters, Draco. Only the ones who have openly defected are being targeted."
Draco's eyes grew huge. "And you believe I'm next in line to be killed," he breathed. Then he looked puzzled. "Could that have been what he meant..."
"What who meant?" asked Harry.
"The last time I saw Dolohov, he was telling my father he had found the "missing" Death Eater—that she had never been one of us, that she had lied—and that her loyalties were always with the light. I thought that he was referring to my mother. But could he have meant your mother-in-law?"
Now Harry was getting somewhere. "I have always believed that Dolohov is still alive. He is a most difficult man to contain. He last escaped a few years ago. It's my belief that he is now systematically killing all of the Death Eater defectors."
This time, Draco leaned forward on the desk, putting his head in his hand. "And to think, I just recently sent him a letter about his son."
"So you know where he is then," said Harry.
"Not necessarily. I addressed the ltter, told the owl to find him and the owl returned without the letter." He added, "That still doesn't explain your mother-in-law, though."
"Perhaps not," Harry answered, weighing his next words very carefully. He had to be sure not to give away too much privileged information. "She had certain, shall we say, talents, that helper her blend in with the crowd."
Draco narrowed his eyes for a moment before answering with one word.
"Metamorphmagus," he said. Harry nodded in confirmation.
"That means she could have been virtually anybody, and we would have had no way of knowing," Draco said in dismay. He thought some more. "It also means she had to have been one hell of an Occlumens to deceive the Dark Lord. Only those whom he thought he could trust or manipulate ever got the Dark Mark."
"Draco," said Harry, thinking fast, "was your mother ever present at Death Eater meetings?"
"Yes, but why?"
Harry sighed. "I need to look at some of her memories. It's time I paid Narcissa Malfoy a little visit. Albus Dumbledore, too." Harry was unendingly grateful for Draco's cooperation. However, now he just might have to ask too much of the man. "Draco," Harry said, "I need you to follow me."
Abigail and Lionel met in front of the kitchens that night, just as they had planned. It felt odd to Abby not having Rose and even Wesley around, but she understood that sometimes, you just had to speak with someone who could understand what you were going through.
"Thanks for coming," Lionel said. Was that a little bit of excitement Abby heard in his voice?"
"What's up, Lionel?" asked Abby.
"Well, you remember that conversation we had the first day about time turners?"
"Of course I remember," said Abigail, "Wesley, as usual, was a total jerk about it."
Lionel rolled his eyes and nodded. But then he reached into his pocket and pulled out something large, ornate, and beautiful.
Abby gasped at the sight. It was an antique time turner, and it was absolutely breathtaking. Little red jewels were encrusted in between the rings. But it didn't have just three rings like time turners normally did. It have six of them.
"Lionel!" Abby breathed, "Where did you get that?"
His eyes shown in the torchlight of the corridor. "It belonged to my great-grandmother. We were cleaning out her place and I saw my mum with it. I...I stole it, thinking I could save my great-gran, but you can't slow down the aging process," he said sadly. "No matter how far back in time you go, people still die of natural causes."
Abby looked at him sadly. But then she said, "What do you think the other two rings are for?"
"That's easy," Lionel said. "The smallest ring is for minutes, the next for hours, the next for days, the next for weeks, the next for months, and the largest one...is for years," he said, giving Abigail a long look. "That means—"
"Shoosh!" Abby said. "Don't say it!" Of course she knew what it meant. It meant she could go back in time and save her nana...but dare she do it? No, she thought, it just wouldn't be right.
"It looks really old," Abby said.
"That's another thing," said Lionel, with a touch of sadness, "Mum says it's only got a few good uses left in it. So we'd better make it count." Abby couldn't have agreed more. But she still couldn't entirely give up the hope of saving her grandmother from a horrible death.
