Title: Ink

Chapter 12: Puzzles

Story warnings: Swearing, some violence, major character death, other death, and torture.

Chapter warnings: Nothing, really.

Disclaimer: I do not consider myself the owner of these characters. They belong to J. K. Rowling.

Note: This is really late, I know, but it's rather long so hopefully that makes up for it.


Previously on Ink:

There was not much left to do, other than take care of the last few knots on the string. Most had simply been cut away, but he knew the worst was left to finish.

And yet, he had become idle in his actions.

He would continue to keep it in the sidelines for now.

But soon, he would finish his plans that started over fifty years ago, and he would finally reach that unstoppable high.

And his work would be done.


Harry Potter had survived the first few days of classes.

Though he had yet to teach a full week, the new experience was taxing; though, it was not without its enjoyment.

Harry found that his students were quite eager to learn, whether they be young and new to the class or older and more experienced.

Remus' lesson plans had helped him to get an idea of how his classes should go, but he felt comfortable changing them to suit his needs. Though it had not been a long time since he started, he felt confident.

Now, as the weekend was upon him, he was eager to meet with his friends to discuss his recent findings with Peverell. He had been able to keep focused on teaching, but now that the weekend had arrived he found himself quite anxious.


Come Saturday, Harry found himself travelling to Hogsmeade to meet with Ron and Hermione. They had agreed to meet at The Three Broomsticks, as they had learned not to talk of important things at quieter venues. It seemed strange to Harry that less people would listen if there were more people around; to him that meant more spies and more eavesdroppers. But, it also meant more noise to blend into.

The weather on Saturday was cloudy but pleasantly cool, giving the village a definite late summer feel. Soon, the trees surrounding the wizarding town would shed their summer appearance and turn colors, brightening up their surroundings with reds, oranges and yellows. But for now, Harry enjoyed the last breaths of summer, the season when everything seemed easy.

Walking into the Three Broomsticks, Harry waved to Madame Rosmerta and searched for his friends through the large, boisterous crowd. It was not difficult to find them, for Ron Weasley's bright red hair was hard to miss- it acted as an excellent beacon. He and Hermione were seated in a booth furthest from the door; a good strategic point, Harry thought, as that meant they could observe everyone going in and out of the establishment.

His two friends seemed very happy to see him.

"Hey, Harry!" They chorused as he slid in next to Hermione.

"Hey, guys," He returned, settling into his spot.

"We ordered you a butterbeer," Ron told him as Harry examined the third bottle on the table. Harry grinned his thanks, spelling the top off.

Hermione took out her wand, quickly muttering something Harry could not hear, though he assumed it was a silencing spell of some sort.

"Now, no one can hear us talk," She explained.

"So, mate, tell us about the journal you found," Ron suggested.

Harry sighed, thinking back to the incident. "I went to the Restricted Section, and didn't find anything; then I asked Pince and she found the book for me. I took it to my room right away and when I opened it, all that I found was the first two pages marked: the copyright page and the like. Then, I turned the page, and it was blank. All the other pages are blank, too."

Hermione bit her lip, thoughtful. "Do you think there were some protective enchantments on it? Did you feel any weird magic when you were looking at it?"

Looking back on the event, Harry did remember the strange feeling he obtained after reading the few lines the book entailed. He told as much to his friends. "I don't know much about enchanted books, besides the diary in second year. It doesn't feel like that, though. I haven't tried writing in it, but I doubt that would get us anywhere."

Ron asked, "Were there any other books on Peverell, or just the one?"

"Well, Pince only grabbed one book when I asked her. I asked her if she had any books on Ignotus Peverell, and she took the one from the shelves."

They all sat in silence for a while, thinking.

"Have you asked Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, suddenly. "He's practically all-knowing, surely he'd know about your family?"

Harry hesitated. His mind replayed the warning Voldemort gave him: Do not let Dumbledore near your vaults. Though this was not strictly the same thing, he got the information from his vaults and could not find it anywhere else. That basically meant that the information was from his vaults alone, right? And Dumbledore was not to be near it. Since Voldemort had not told him what the old man was after, he figured it would be safer to keep him away from all of it.

"I could," He answered slowly, "If I don't get any leads any time soon. But I want to find it on my own, or with you two helping."

Hermione frowned, but did not disagree. Ron nodded.

"Can't let Dumbledore have all the glory, eh?" He winked.

Harry chuckled quietly.

"Have you thought of anywhere else to look?" The brunet asked Ron and Hermione.

"There is a possibility that he was not originally from Britain," Hermione said, "So I could maybe look in some foreign libraries when I'm on holiday in France."

"Didn't you already go on holiday to France?" Harry asked her.

Hermione stuttered. "Well, my family really likes France- we go often- I can go more often than once if I want!" She exclaimed. Harry's eyebrows shot up at her theatrics, but did not comment on it.

Ron rolled his eyes. "No one's telling you what to do, Hermione, so calm yourself." He turned to Harry. "I could ask my mum if she knows anything about it, or where to look at least."

"Maybe as a last resort? If we can't find anything by, say, Christmas?" Harry asked. He knew how close the Weasley's were to Albus, and did not want him to find out about Harry's searching through her.

"Deal," Ron said. Hermione nodded in agreement.

They chatted idly for a while, catching up on the few weeks they were apart. Hermione was still enjoying being unemployed, while Ron was progressing further through his Auror training. Harry told them about his first week, and about his rooms. He offered to show them his living space, but they both told him that they had errands to run and needed to be on their way shortly. Next time, he promised.

His two friends promised to write, and once Hermione's new flat was connected to the Floo network they could firechat.

Then they were off, leaving Harry to his thoughts. It felt strange to him, being an adult. It felt like only yesterday that he fought the Mountain Troll with Ron and Hermione, showing more bravery than most eleven year olds possessed. Now they were of age, doing grown-up things like running errands and buying flats. It was exciting but crazy at the same time.

Harry spent the rest of his Hogsmeade visit browsing the shops, picking up a few items here and there.

Once evening rolled around, Harry travelled back to the castle and to his rooms. Once there, he came upon an owl at his living room window, a note attached to its leg. It was from Dumbledore, asking him once again to have tea with him and discuss recent happenings. He included his ever-changing password, giving Harry the impression that he would not take no for an answer. Harry figured he had put the man off long enough, and wrote back with a simple I will come after dinner. He did not know why he was so hesitant to speak with the headmaster; it was not as if he disliked the man. He blamed some of it on Voldemort, for planting a seed of doubt in his head for the headmaster's intentions. Other than that, he had no reason to think ill of Albus.

After dinner, Harry walked to the headmaster's office. It brought back many memories, as he had to be the most frequent visitor over the years. Some occasions had been enjoyable, while others had been upsetting. He was hoping the meeting tonight would be in the first category, however.

Giving the gargoyle protectors his password, Harry walked up the marble staircase and knocked on the door; a "come in" was given almost before he had knocked, giving Harry the impression that Dumbledore had ways of knowing he had arrived.

Entering the office, Harry's eyes fell upon Albus Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk in blue robes and a matching hat. His half-moon glasses were settled gently but firmly on his nose, and his eyes looked deep into Harry's as he said, "Good evening, Harry."

"Good evening, headmaster," Harry responded with a small smile. He sat down at the man's insisting and took another look around him. "It seems you've redecorated since the last time I was in here," he commented.

Dumbledore's eyes swept over the room as well. "Oh, yes, well, sometimes it is time for a change." The numerous silvery instruments that had been set around the room were gone, save a few on his desk; this was not too strange, but what Harry found puzzling was the absence of the other headmasters' portraits. They appeared to be gone from the room entirely, though they could have been in the room behind the office-a storage room, perhaps, as Harry had never seen the door open to find out for sure. There were a few things that had remained, however, such as the Sorting Hat at the top of one of his bookshelves, and the perch for his phoenix, Fawkes, who was currently observing Harry as he looked around.

Dumbledore offered him a cup of tea, to which Harry accepted and held but did not yet drink; he was still contemplating the missing portraits. He had thought they were placed with a charm to prevent removal, though he could not be sure.

"So, how have your classes been going, my boy?" Albus asked him.

Harry snapped out of his musings and into reality. "Really good," He told him honestly. "It seems to be off to a good start."

"And no one is giving you any trouble?"

Harry shook his head. "Some are a little star struck, but that's already beginning to fade. Everyone seems to enjoy the classes so far."

"Good," Dumbledore answered with a smile. "Before I forget, I must tell you that you start your post-curfew patrols of the castle next week. I will be handing out an official schedule Monday morning, but I know that you will be one of the first to patrol."

Harry thanked him, though inwardly he was dreading the patrolling. It would not be difficult, but he did not feel like walking through the castle and catching rule-breaking students.

"Have you been in contact with Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley?" Albus asked lightly.

Harry nodded. "I actually visited with them in Hogsmeade today."

"Good, good. I'm sure they appreciated seeing you."

Harry wondered why Dumbledore seemed to be making small talk with him, though he figured it was what colleagues did, especially ones who had known each other for a while previously.

"If you don't mind me asking, Harry, who sent you that letter earlier on this week? The one attached to that magnificent bird that seemed to attract everyone's attention?" Albus' eyes twinkled.

Harry kept his face neutral as he quickly thought of a lie to tell the man. He was definitely not going to say that it was from the Dark Lord.

"It was a letter from a fan, though I have no idea how they knew I was at Hogwarts still," Harry replied, trying to make his voice seem exasperated. "She wanted to tell me that her daughter was in Hogwarts and that they both thought very highly of me. I have no idea where she got the bird, she didn't mention it." It was rather farfetched, but Dumbledore did not question it. All he did was stare at Harry for a few moments, and nod his head.

"Fans will go to the ends of the Earth to worship their idols," He told Harry. Harry's eyebrows twitched at the statement, wanting to react, but not knowing what to say. It was a strange statement from the headmaster.

"Well, Harry," Albus said, "I am sure you would like to get some rest before the weekend disappears from beneath you, so I shall let you go. It was nice speaking with you; we shall surely need to do so again soon."

Harry rose, hearing the polite 'get out' in the old man's speech.

"Thank you for the tea, headmaster," Harry said, though after a glance at his cup he felt a little foolish; he had not drunk any. Albus paid no attention to it, however, and said goodbye to the brunet.

Harry walked back to his room, slightly confused at the meeting. Usually, when he was invited to the headmaster's office, there was a specific reason to be there; in his sixth year, he often met with Dumbledore to learn more about Voldemort's past. However, it truly felt as if the man had just wanted to chat. It was a strange reason for Dumbledore to ask him, more than once, to meet with him.

Another strange part of the meeting was the lack of portraits. Harry could not get over the strangeness of the empty walls, no quiet conversations being held between scenes. Dumbledore had often used the former headmasters' portraits to converse with, whether it be for advice or simple conversation.

Putting the thoughts out of his mind, Harry entered his rooms and settled into his couch, reading a book he had brought from his flat.


The next day, Harry left the castle in midmorning to go to Hogsmeade; his meeting with Tom was to occur shortly.

The young man entered the Three Broomsticks, sitting in the same booth he had sat in the day before, though the company would be far different. He was a little early, but he did not mind.

Dark Lords are never late, though, he would later find out. In fact, they were usually early, and this time Voldemort was early to their meeting, walking into the bar and sending a charming smile to Rosmerta. In the guise of Tom Riddle, no one would dare think wrongly of him.

Tom caught sight of Harry almost right away, and when he did he sauntered over to the booth and sat down across from him.

"Good morning, Potter."

"Good morning," Harry answered back. It was strange to exchange such pleasantries with the man who had tried to kill him, more than once, but he dismissed the thought.

"I don't care much for the food here, so we're going somewhere else. Follow me." At that, Tom rose again and headed for the door, not once looking back at Harry. Harry did not really understand Tom's seemingly split second decisions, but he went along with it.

They walked out into the main street, and Tom motioned for him to follow to a side road with little to no traffic. Once rather far from the main path, Tom turned back to Harry.

"We'll be taking a portkey, I hope you don't mind."

Harry's eyebrows rose, because he really did mind; he did not like taking a portkey without previous notice and without the known destination.

"Where are we going?" He asked the man.

"To lunch," Tom responded simply, eyebrow raised. "Put your hand on this galleon." Harry did so.

Tom whispered something Harry did not quite catch and they were thrust into a whirlwind of colors. It was soon over, however, and Harry felt the relief of finishing the less than favorable transportation of portkeys.

Looking around, Harry deduced that they were in some sort of mansion; they were before a large, silver marble staircase with lavishly decorated walls. There was a large chandelier above them, glittering in a light hidden from Harry's view. The floor was made of marble as well, a deep black with flecks of silver.

"Where are we?" Harry asked Tom.

"Malfoy manor," Tom answered him lightly.

Harry's eyes bulged. "I can't be here," He panicked, "They'll kill me if they found out. I'm not their favorite person, you know!"

Tom seemed to consider this for a moment, before answering, "You will be fine. No one would dare kill the Dark Lord's guest," He hissed.

The panic lessened slightly, but Harry remained tense as Tom led him up the stairs and through a long hallway. Harry lost track of how far they went before they went through many turns and more hallways, before arriving upon a large archway with sturdy but elegant double doors.

"This is where we shall be eating."

Harry did not feel comfortable entering the Malfoys' dining room, and ultimately felt as if he had been lured into a trap; he did not say anything, however, as it would not help the situation any. If Voldemort had lured him here for bad purposes, there was nothing he could do now.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he hissed in his mind as he followed Tom. Why would you do this? Following Voldemort to an unknown location when you're not even sure if the man won't kill you?

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself. When he decided he was focused enough, he noticed they had walked through the fancy dining area to a side room, where there was a smaller table.

"Take a seat," Tom ordered.

Harry complied.

"Are you done panicking yet? The Malfoys are not here at the moment."

Harry felt slightly better.

"And I'm not going to kill you today."

And Harry believed him. Though he did not appreciate the 'today' added to the comfort.

Tom seated himself across the table from Harry. He snapped his fingers, and a house elf appeared with a pop, bowing to him.

"Get us lunch," Tom said to it, and the house elf disappeared with a pop.

"I hope you don't mind the lack of ordering," He said to Harry. "I prefer to be surprised when I receive my lunch. It makes life more interesting."

Harry's eyebrows shot up at that. "That doesn't sound like a very Dark Lord-ish thing to do," he said.

"Then what is? Do you know a lot of other dark lords who choose not to be surprised with their meals?"

Harry snorted. "Not what I meant, Tom. I just figured you would want to be in control of everything."

"Chaos and control are not complete opposites," Tom answered. "But enough of that. I wanted to ask how things have gone in the castle."

"Good," Harry said, shrugging. "My rooms are nice, and my office is nice."

"Has anything of note gone on?" Tom asked.

Harry told Tom about the journal of Peverell. "Do you have any ideas on what's going on? You'd probably know better than me about weird journals."

Tom narrowed his eyes at him. "And why would you assume that?"

Harry smirked, but said nothing. He was not sure if Tom knew of Harry's dealings with his diary, but if he did not, he would leave that information to himself for later discussions.

"I am not sure why a book would be blank besides those few pages," Tom answered him. "If I could examine the book, maybe I would come to different conclusions."

"Well, next time you come to Hogwarts, feel free to," Harry joked. Tom raised his eyebrow in reply.

The food arrived with a pop, just as the house elf had previously. It was roast chicken with vegetables.

"I spoke with Dumbledore yesterday evening," Harry mentioned as an afterthought.

Tom perked up at this. "What did you speak about?" He asked.

"Not much, really," Harry said honestly. "He invited me for tea, and asked me how my classes were going…he asked me who sent me the letter with the gigantic bird attached to it," Harry added with a glare.

Tom smirked. "It's a lovely creature, isn't it?"

"Very you, Tom."

"I'll take that as a complement." Tom's face grew serious. "And that's all he asked of you?"

Harry shrugged. "He asked me about my friends, but really, that's it." He remembered what had been puzzling him, however. "I did notice that he took down all of the portraits of old headmasters from the wall… I thought that was peculiar. What do you think?"

Tom's face remained neutral, but he thought he saw a flicker of something in his eyes; of what, though, he was not certain. "Is that so."

Harry nodded. "He mentioned something about redecorating."

"I was not aware that those portraits could be removed from the walls," Tom said slowly. "This is a strange development. If he seems to do any other strange things, let me know immediately. And do not, under any circumstances, let him know what's in your vaults."

"What's in my vaults that he wants so badly, anyway?" Harry asked him, irritated. "You haven't told me what, and I don't know what I'm supposed to be keeping from him. It's frustrating."

Tom smirked, though it was more of a grimace. "It's better you don't know, Harry. That way, if he goes through your mind, he will not know that you know of it."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, once again. "What makes you think he would go through my mind?"

Tom looked at him intensely. "What makes you think he hasn't already? In fact, what makes you think he does not do frequently? Your mind is open and unprotected, Harry Potter. It's hard not to fall into it."

"How would you know?" Harry asked crossly, but then felt stupid for saying so; of course Voldemort would know how easy it was to get inside his head. He had been doing so regularly in his school years.

"I hope you didn't forget all we've been through," Tom answered with a raised brow. "Plus, do you really think I haven't been seeing in your mind these past few months? I would not have approached you, had I not found some information I deemed important."

This did not impress Harry. "So you've been in my head."

"Regularly, yes."

Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His meal had been forgotten long ago, in the heat of the conversation.

"How else would I know that you trust me?" Tom asked.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You saw stuff in my head that made you think I trust you? Bullshit," He said.

Tom smirked. "I suppose you are not always aware of your inner thoughts. No matter. If you did not trust me, would you be here now?"

"Yes," Harry hissed. "You would've dragged me here either way."

All Tom said was, "Whatever you say," and went back to his meal.

The rest of the lunch went in silence, though Harry did not mind. He was busy thinking of the fact that both Voldemort and Dumbledore were seeing into his mind, poking and prodding when they saw fit, and Harry had not even known.

I suppose he's not the best Leglimens around for nothing, Harry thought. I wouldn't have noticed that he was in my mind because he's really good at it. And I'm sure Dumbledore's the same way.

Once lunch was over, Tom led Harry out of the room and back through the hallways.

"Why are we at Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked him, breaking the silence they had endured.

"It is where I stay most of the time," Tom told him.

Harry did not know what to say to that, so he nodded and continued to walk.

They arrived back at the entryway in which they had arrived originally, and Tom turned to Harry.

"We'll be staying in touch, Potter. Thank you for eating lunch with me." With that, he pressed something into Harry's hand, and Harry was whisked once again into the whirling colors and shapes a portkey creates.


Notes:

I hope this chapter is to everyone's liking. Things are starting to happen.

Please let me know what you think in a review. They really help me.