Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Puppet of Time

Chapter 7

"Stop pacing Draco, you're wearing the carpet down."

Draco halted his wanderings and looked at Morag in silence. Finally his shoulders slumped. He sighed and flopped down in a chair.

"Better?"

Morag nodded. "Much. Now be a good boy and read something or take a nap. The commotion in the common room and the dorms is bad enough. I didn't come here for you to bring all that unrest with you."

The blond boy rolled his eyes. "Yes mother."

In an incomparable display of mature behavior Morag stuck her tongue out at him before she went back to reading the book in her lap.

They were currently in one of the small, comfortable study rooms near Ravenclaw tower. These rooms were a secret of the most studious members of Ravenclaw house and had been established decades ago by students who longed for a bit of peace and quiet. The common room and the dorms were often too noisy to really study in peace; the same was true for the library despite Madam Pince's best efforts. Access to the study rooms had to be earned and was granted by a vote from the small number of current members and the Head of House's approval. Generally only people who were absolutely serious about studying (and considering the usual Ravenclaw reputation that asked for a lot of dedication) and wouldn't abuse that privilege were included; the common room was for partying. Draco and Morag were the only second years to be granted that honor. They didn't use the rooms that often because it did cut down on contact with the other students.

Today was different. After the entire castle was abuzz since Filch's cat had been paralyzed he just couldn't stand to be around the others; all who wouldn't talk about anything else. The truth was he had almost panicked. He still was on the verge of panic, really.

For the first time in his life things were happening without him knowing everything important. As long as he could remember he had the memories of his other self to guide him. He knew many things about other people and their motives; things he had normally no chance of learning. The other Draco had sent an enormous amount of information and countless plans for all eventualities.

This time it was different. He had absolutely no information about the Chamber of Secrets or the Heir of Slytherin aside from the stories; no memory of something extraordinary happening this year. Up until now he had been able to act from a position of superiority, carefully weighing each decision. Now though he came to realize how much he depended on what his older self had sent back. Simply put, Draco didn't know what to do.

'Perhaps I'm nothing but a puppet dancing on strings spanning through time.'

Draco took a deep breath and tried to get his thoughts in order. He was a Malfoy and could deal with this.

'Okay, stay calm and think carefully. What could have happened?'

Option 1: It had been an especially vicious prank on Filch. The caretaker was universally hated; it wasn't out of the question that some older student had cursed the cat and put the writing on the wall. Depending on their family some of the upper years could conceivably know some pretty powerful magic that wasn't directly taught at Hogwarts. Harry and his friends had simply been unlucky enough to be the first on the scene. If this was the case Draco didn't have anything to worry about.

Option 2: It was one of Dumbledore's schemes he didn't use in the other timeline. Painting Harry as the Heir of Slytherin would isolate him from his peers. Add a few more incidents and most of the school would turn against him. The old man would use that to form Harry's personality in the desired direction. There wasn't much Draco could do directly, but he would be able to act as a voice of moderation.

Option 3: Someone really had opened the legendary chamber. Maybe he or she had found magical knowledge there or a monster was afoot. Why that someone would choose Filch's cat as his target and then announce the warning Draco didn't know. It just seemed stupid. On the other hand there was never a shortage of stupid people.

Draco sighed, causing Morag to send him a penetrating gaze. "I don't know why you are getting so worked up over this. It's probably only some prank."

"Maybe."

If it was the Chamber of Secrets or a comparable relic of times long past he didn't have the slightest idea what to expect. Sure, there were legends and history books, but Draco knew very well that almost all wizarding history was notoriously unreliable. Heck, practically everything they knew about the Founders had been made up centuries later. There had been so many deliberate falsifications in the writing of history of Magical Britain and Europe that no one knew anymore what had really happened. Sure, the Houses kept records of their own, but it wasn't as if a single House knew everything or if the people who wrote it down couldn't be mistaken or changing things for reasons of their own. It had been especially bad a few decades after their hidden society formed in the seventeenth century.

Revisionism had run rampant and the somewhat tyrannical government of the day had had no hesitations about changing books and making up history from thin air. It had been an effort to construct the image of a long-existing separate wizarding society when in fact they and the muggles had mostly been part of the same world before the statute of secrecy. That trend of blatant historical revisionism had continued for centuries with varying goals. Everything from the official history before the late nineteenth century was almost certainly manipulated and even after that it was sometimes deeply suspect.

Normally that was what made history fun for him. There was something deeply fascinating about comparing all the different versions and tracking down the falsehoods. The other Draco had spent much time scrying into the past. He had been mainly concerned with useful magical knowledge and had no time for purely scholarly pursuits, but the implications of what he had seen were fascinating. Draco really hoped he would find the time for more thorough investigations later in his life when he was good enough at scrying and had dealt with the other, more pressing problems.

A good example was Helga Hufflepuff. Today she was seen as a good and gentle soul hailing from the broad valleys of Wales. In reality she had been what would today be considered a very Dark witch. Her original home had been the Kingdom of Burgundy, but the woman had traveled far and wide in her quest for power. There were always rulers and princes she tried to ensnare. She had specialized in food-related magic and potions combined with some enchanting. Apples had been one of her favorites. Draco believed she had sparked several muggle fairy tales.

Helga had only fled to the rather remote region that was now Scotland when she had made too many enemies. It was true that she had accepted every pupil… as long as they pledged absolute loyalty to her and worked hard for their new mistress. On the positive side she treated her underlings quite well as long as they obeyed without question. It was much the same for every Founder; the real persons only bore a passing resemblance to their current image.

Suddenly Draco frowned. 'Strange, I should know more about Slytherin's actions during his Hogwarts time. More proof that something is missing from the knowledge that my older counterpart sent me.' He had to suppress another sigh. 'I don't have enough information. I guess I just have to quietly investigate and wait if anything else happens.'

Narcissa had to held back tears as she firmly held Cassiopeia's hand. The old woman was drawing one rattling breath after another, but each one came a little slower and a little more pained. She had spent the last two weeks at her aunt's bedside almost without break. It was the least she could do for her favorite aunt, one of the last Blacks alive.

During the summer Cassiopeia had seemed fine, but Narcissa had seen her aunt's potion usage. If she had been more moderate in her use she might have lived another year or two, albeit with an increasingly muddled mind. As it was her decline had been sudden and swift. Her once sharp mind had fallen apart quickly, descending from complete lucidity to senility in a few weeks. At first she hadn't known where she was and called for people long dead, not recognizing Narcissa or Abraxas. By now she wasn't able to speak anymore and her body was failing rapidly. Narcissa was glad that the decline only happened after the end of the summer holidays. It was better to spare Draco and Aquila from the sight.

"It won't be long now." her father-in-law said quietly. He was sitting on the other side of the bed, holding Cassiopeia's other hand. Narcissa only nodded in response.

Two hours before midnight on November 7th 1992 Cassiopeia Black passed away after 77 years of life.

One week had passed since the Chamber of Secrets had allegedly been opened and Draco had made almost no progress in determining what had really happened. By now the buzz had died down somewhat, especially because there had been no further incidents. A few people mainly from Gryffindor had for some unfathomable reason come to the conclusion that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin and tried to avoid him in the hallways.

Draco had taken a look at the seemingly non-removable writing. He had not been able to determine anything with his own magical skills, but the memories of his other self had provided several options how it could have been done.

'I'm still not powerful and skilled enough to cast the advanced spells I need to unravel this. Why does the maturation and training of one's magic take so long?'

The accidental magic children displayed was emotionally triggered and completely chaotic; the effects often not replicable. Frequency of accidental magic was highly variable; some like Neville only did it a single time while others racked up a count of several dozen incidents over the years. It was possible for children to use wands, but in most cases the chance of a spell misfiring was far higher than succeeding. At around nine or ten children slowly got their magic under control, enabling the purposeful casting of low-powered spells. Accidental magic almost completely disappeared at that age although it could happen even to adults under extreme emotional stress. At eleven practically all children could safely use a wand. Starting from age ten a wizard's innate magical power grew quickly until about fifteen. After that the natural gain of additional power slowed to a crawl.

Apart from the raw magical power one needed the knowledge of individual spells – wand movements, incantations and a purely mental part –, theoretical background in the different fields of magic as well as training in channeling one's power. The latter aspect was trained mostly automatically during their education; learning and practicing a wide variety of spells was all it took.

Draco knew that he would never belong to the most powerful of wizards, but it was enormously frustrating to know all sorts of extremely advanced spells and being unable to cast them. He was gaining more power and skill by the month and it was still not fast enough for his liking.

'In half a year tops I should be capable of managing the advanced diagnostic spells. Then I will be able to find out more.'

Suddenly a spray of water hit Draco in the face, interrupting his thoughts. One of the Slytherin Quidditch players had flown extremely close to the stands. When he curved away the water from his robes had splattered all over the spectators.

With a sigh Draco cast a hot-air charm at himself. Occasions like this made him hate Quidditch. The cold November rain was bucketing down, but that didn't prevent the Quidditch game from taking place. Thanks to an Impervious-charm his robes and wide-brimmed hat kept him reasonably dry, but it wasn't an enjoyable experience.

"Did you have to drag us out here, Stephen? We could have been sitting in the nice, dry and warm common room. If it gets any wetter we'll need swim trunks." Kevin said plaintively.

Apparently Draco wasn't the only one who would have preferred to stay inside. Unfortunately the Quidditch fanatics usually managed to drag the rest of the school with them. Only Morag seemed to have disappeared in time and Draco wished he had done the same.

"Hey, how else are we to observe the enemy teams? Besides, Quidditch is the best sport ever." Stephen replied without taking his eyes off the game. Ever since he had been accepted as reserve chaser of the Ravenclaw team in the tryouts his Quidditch enthusiasm had reached new heights.

Sighing again, Draco returned his attention to the game. The Slytherins were absolutely murdering the Gryffindors. Apparently Nott's father had bought new brooms for the entire team and the difference was showing. Nott himself wasn't playing, though. While he had participated in the tryouts he had no real talent on a broom and was intelligent enough to know and accept it. Still, the generous gift had improved his standing among his house tremendously.

'He is far more intelligent and subtle than my other self at this age.'

With a resounding WHAM one of the bludgers smashed into the elbow of Kenneth Towler, the Gryffindor seeker. Unfortunately for him he was already in a dive and lost control of his broom. With a splattering thud he hit the muddy ground and was thrown off his broom. After tumbling a short distance he came to a halt, loudly moaning in pain. His arm was hanging at a very strange angle, causing Draco to wince in sympathy.

A moment later the Slytherin seeker caught the snitch and the Slytherin stands erupted in cheers. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs applauded politely and the Gryffindors booed. Business as usual, really.

Draco was about to head back to the dry castle when Stephen's voice caused him to look back at the pitch.

"What is that idiot Lockhart doing?"

Kevin squinted. "It looks like he is trying to cast a spell on Kenneth."

It was difficult to make out any details through the curtain of rain, but when the assembled crowd on the pitch cried in outrage and Lockhart beat a hasty retreat to the castle they got a clean look.

"Oh Merlin, the moron has removed all the bones from his arm instead of mending them." Draco said, horrified.

The bystanders who had heard him winced. It was relatively easy to mend a broken bone, but re-growing them from scratch meant spending a very painful night in the hospital wing. Stephen wanted to stay a bit longer and observe what would happen, but Draco had enough. With Kevin in tow he headed back to the castle.

A few minutes later they reached the gates, but Draco held Kevin back for a moment.

"Better clean up before we leave muddy footprints all over the castle."

Kevin nodded in realization. "You're right. I don't want any trouble with Filch."

"Well, can you blame him?" Draco asked while removing the mud and wetness with a few spells. "Students leaving mud everywhere means more work for him. I never saw him use magic and there aren't enough elves to keep everything clean."

He often wondered why someone like Argus Filch was employed at the castle in the first place. His personality alone made letting him anywhere near children seem unwise. The old squib was bitter and vicious. It was probably made worse by him seeing day after day the one thing he would never have: magic. That he was a favorite target for pranks didn't help matters. Then there was the matter that many things in his job normally required at least basic abilities in spell casting like cleaning up the often magical spills, pranks or aftereffects of spells. As it was Filch had to go to one of the professors every time he couldn't handle something or resort to expensive magical cleaning supplies when a wizard would have only needed his wand.

They indeed met Filch on their way to Ravenclaw tower, but luckily the man did nothing more than glare at them menacingly.

After putting on more comfortable robes Draco made an effort to track down Morag. As expected he found her in one of the small study rooms absorbed in a book.

"Why doesn't Madame Pomfrey stand by at the pitch? There are always injuries." the red-headed girl wondered after Draco gave her a brief summary of the events of today's Quidditch match.

Draco shrugged. "Don't ask me. Sometimes she's there and sometimes she isn't. Did you make any progress with the Chamber of Secrets?"

"I found nothing apart from legends and guesswork. By now I don't believe there's anything easily accessible that can help us. The Chamber would have been found long ago if it was easy. I don't think we can make progress with the information available."

The blond boy sighed. "I guess you're right. Better to concentrate on schoolwork for now."

On the next morning Draco and his friends were on their way to the Great Hall when the voices of McGonagall and Flitwick coming from a side corridor caught their attention. Draco motioned for silence, trying to overhear the conversation.

"… found petrified this night. There was a bunch of grapes next to him so we think young Mr. Creevey wanted to visit Mr. Towler in the hospital."

"Petrified?" Professor Flitwick asked with a squeak.

"Yes." said Professor McGonagall. "But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate… who knows what might have…"

"Didn't the boy always have a camera with him? Perhaps he managed to get a picture of his attacker."

"Unfortunately, no. We already checked. The insides of the camera were completely melted. The chamber is indeed open again." the aged transfiguration professor answered.

"Again?" Stephen whispered when they left the corridor behind. "Does that mean the chamber has been opened before?"

"Apparently. I wonder if they will evacuate the castle." Kevin asked.

Draco only nodded absentmindedly. The part that had really caught his attention was about Dumbledore. Why would the man go the entire long way from his quarters to the kitchen to get a cup of chocolate when he could simply call a house elf to deliver it? It wasn't as if a stroll through the cold and drafty castle in the middle of the night was a favorite activity for old men.

Sitting down in the Great Hall he unobtrusively observed the other students, starting with the Gryffindors. Ginny seemed especially distraught. He had only found a few opportunities to exchange a few short words with her since Aquila had informed him of her problems. Unfortunately Ginny had been unwilling to discuss the matter.

Continuing his observations Draco found nothing overtly suspicious. There was no mention of the attack or possible consequences on part of the staff, but the rumor mill was already going strong. Once again people blamed Harry for the attack. It was still a minority, but a noticeably larger one than after the cat incident.

'Of course, the faculty doesn't do anything about it. It makes the possibility that this is one of Dumbledore's schemes much higher.'

He had to write his grandfather another letter. There hadn't been an answer to his last one. Draco knew that Aunt Cassie was dying and Grandfather was staying by her side, but this was important.

Abraxas sighed deeply, sitting in his comfortable armchair in his warm study. Cassie was dead. The last person he could fully trust was now gone. His own time was running out, too. A year, perhaps a few months more; that was all he had left. Multiple incomplete letters covered his desk. He had to tell Draco and Aquila that their aunt was dead, but uncharacteristically for him he just wasn't able to find the right words. He couldn't delay much longer, though.

Cassiopeia had left almost all her worldly possessions to Aquila, with some select items going to Narcissa, Draco and Harry. The will had already been probated by the Ministry; he had made sure of that. It would provide a layer of security and independence if Aquila ever needed to go against her head of family, namely her father. Abraxas dearly hoped it wouldn't come to that, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

With another sigh he stood and retrieved a glass and a bottle of liquor from a cabinet. For the first time in more than two weeks he indulged; it just hadn't seemed proper before and he had taken no regular meals with wine as usual. Cassiopeia had kept him too busy.

Looking out of a window into the rainy, windswept night he pondered his next steps. 'So much to do and so little time left.'

A sudden, sharp pain in his chest caused him to gasp. His glass fell to the floor, bouncing off the carpet and spilling its contents.

"No, not yet."

Abraxas turned around, trying to reach his desk. The pain was becoming worse and he fell to the floor, not able to retain his balance as the room began to spin.

"Jonny! Dobby!" he managed to gasp out. With two pops the two house elves arrived. Their already large eyes widened when they saw him lying on the floor.

"Bezoar… St. Mungo's…" were the last words Abraxas managed before darkness claimed him.

Aquila rolled her eyes when she spied a new talisman dangling from Flora Carrow's throat. "You don't believe that piece of garbage will do anything, do you?"

The brunette girl seemed flustered. "Well… no, not really. But it's better to be careful, isn't it? I mean, where is the harm?"

Letting out an exasperated sigh Aquila answered with a few questions. "Besides you shelling out good money for a nice piece of quartz and becoming a laughing stock? You know the legend. Until now the alleged monster has only gone after a squib's pet and a muggleborn. What will the rest of the house think if they see you afraid of attack?"

Flora became deadly still for a moment. Then she ripped the talisman from her throat, audibly snapping the cord. A moment later she stuffed it into a pocket of her robe.

Hestia shook her head at the antics of her twin sister. "Thanks, Aquila. That was what I was trying to tell her the entire time."

"Good, now that this is over we can go to breakfast."

A few minutes later they left the dungeons and headed to the Great Hall. Since the Creevey boy's petrifaction had become public knowledge yesterday a roaring trade of talismans, amulets and other allegedly protective devices had swept the school, hidden from the teachers. Of course, all these trinkets were absolutely useless. Even if by some miracle one of the things had been working there was no telling what the danger was. A talisman against spider bites would do precious little against some obscure petrifaction curse.

Sitting down to eat, Aquila quickly gauged the mood of the school. Fear was running rampant and most people had taken to traveling in groups, but strangely no student had left Hogwarts or been pulled out by his or her parents. Neither had there been any additional security measures announced. The entire thing was just strange, but almost no one seemed to realize that.

Just when she had finished her meal the owls entered the hall. Aquila wondered if there would be any news about their aunt. She knew that Aunt Cassie was very ill, but her mother's and grandfather's letters had been very short in the last weeks. Father was currently out of Britain in the entourage of the Minister of Magic, visiting a few of the other countries. Soon she spied Draco's eagle owl carrying a letter. Hopefully she would know more soon. Aquila turned back to her table, deciding to eat another portion of the delicious strawberry jelly.

"I think there is something wrong with your brother." Flora remarked a short time later.

As soon as Aquila glanced at Draco she felt a lump of ice forming in her stomach. Draco had gone pasty white, holding the letter with almost imperceptibly trembling fingers. A moment later he mostly regained his composure and stood up with jerky movements that soon smoothed out. When he arrived by her seat his face was back to normal, but his eyes showed clear anguish. She knew what that meant but managed to keep her composure.

"Aquila, we have to talk privately. Now."

The walk out of the Great Hall was torture. Many eyes were upon them, but she held her head high. She couldn't do anything about the paleness of her cheeks. It seemed an eternity until they were safely away in one of the unused rooms of the castle.

Draco cast a few spells at the door of the room before he turned to her. "Mother wrote that Aunt Cassie died three days ago."

The platinum blond girl felt numb inside. The news wasn't unexpected, but still hit her hard. Aunt Cassie had always been there for her. She had been the one to introduce her to hunting and always encouraged her to pursue her own interests and independence. When she had some issue she didn't want to discuss with her mother Cassie had always provided an open ear and sound advice. And now she was gone forever.

Her brother sighed deeply and visibly steeled himself before he continued speaking. "That is not all. Last night Grandfather had a seizure. He managed to call Jonny and Dobby to take him to St. Mungo's. They still don't know what caused it, but it mainly affected his heart. He hasn't regained consciousness and the healers are skeptical if he ever will."

Aquila felt herself freeze up. Grandfather couldn't be gone, he just couldn't. He was the Malfoy and had always been a tower of strength. Kind smile and stern face; absolute commands and grandfatherly advice. The old man was the one who had defined her life like no one else, not Aunt Cassie and not Mother. Certainly not her father.

Two of the four most important people in her life were gone in the span of a few days. Dark spots began dancing before her eyes and her legs went out from under her, but Draco caught her and pulled her close. The young girl threw her arms around her brother and began to sob uncontrollably. Soon she would have to act completely composed again, but for a few minutes she could allow herself to freely express her grief.

The old man wasn't dead.

Lucius crumpled the letter in his hands. Why wasn't he dead? He had applied the second component of the poison more than two weeks ago before he left Britain. Four or five days later the two components in Abraxas' body should have reacted enough to make any amount of alcohol deadly. Since a glass of wine was customary with many meals his father should have died days ago.

The delay was perplexing, but apparently it had worked at last. Only the old man wasn't dead.

'If he doesn't wake up there isn't any problem. Should he recover though… The poison is undetectable, but he might suspect something. I will have to prepare a fallback plan.'

With a tired sigh Draco drew the curtains of his bed shut and began to meditate. The last days had been rough. He and Aquila had been pulled out of the school for a few days to attend Aunt Cassie's funeral and visit Grandfather in St. Mungo's. Grandfather had seemed so fragile when he saw him.

Draco sighed again. His grandfather was the most important person in his life. In fact, Abraxas was far more of a father figure for Draco than Lucius. It wasn't as if Lucius didn't love him. Draco held some amount of affection for his father. The problem was that Lucius was neither a good man, father nor head of house Malfoy. He knew how the other Draco had turned out without Abraxas in his life. Granted, Draco had the memories of his older self, but he wasn't so conceited to believe that he could have done without proper parenting.

'What happened to Grandfather? He should have had another year without health problems.'

His best guess was poison despite the healers not finding anything. The problem was that there were too many parties who could have done it. Abraxas had lived for a long time; meaning he had ample opportunity to make enemies. Apart from Dumbledore, various families on all sides of the political spectrum that weren't enthused about his grandfather's policies and even his father it was always possible that some wrong done in his past had caught up with Abraxas. Since Draco was back at Hogwarts he didn't have any opportunity to investigate. At least Aquila seemed to coping well, all things considered.

The incapacitation of his grandfather posed another problem: There wasn't an adult left he could fully trust. That meant he would have no external help in investigating the happenings at Hogwarts or be able to help in his more clandestine plans. Starting now Draco was effectively on his own.

To distract himself from the situation Draco began with another in-depth exploration of his own mind. Suddenly he frowned. 'Curious. There is some slight mental pressure that prevents people from thinking rationally about the entire Heir of Slytherin situation. I think that isn't aimed directly at me, though. It looks more like it originates from a general ward.'

Hogwart's wards were extensive, complicated and hardly comprehensible, let alone understandable. Over the centuries wards had been removed, added, modified, combined and split up by persons of various ability and knowledge. From what the effects on his mind looked like the in question ward seemed to have originally been designed to prevent homesickness, but it had been expanded into a full-blown mental influence ward. Not as effective by far as a direct spell, but that made it only more insidious. Even most competent practitioners of the mind arts would have trouble noticing the thing. It was even more subtle than the compulsion Dumbledore had used on him last year. The old man had had decades to become familiar with the wards and could probably use them like a virtuoso.

'Let's think about what reasons Dumbledore could have. He keeps the fear alive, but not enough to cause people to withdraw from the school. He prevents anyone from looking rationally at things. A few more incidents that implicate Harry in some way and the pressure will increase once again. All in all it looks like one of his demented games; just like with the fake philosopher's stone last year.'

Then he shook his head. He couldn't afford to neglect the possibility that someone else was responsible for the incidents and Dumbledore was only using them for his own goals. First thing tomorrow he would head into the library and peruse back issues of the Daily Prophet. If anyone asked he could pretend it was a project about the different Minister for Magic for the History Club.

Ginny was slowly panicking. Something was wrong with her. The periods of missing memories were increasing in frequency and length. Sometimes she found herself in some hallway or room without any idea how she had gotten there. She had tried talking with other people about it, but she found she just couldn't.

Her brothers didn't seem to realize the extent of her problems; they seemed to think she was just frightened. The same was true for her other housemates. The only ones who seemed to suspect more were Draco and Aquila. Ginny had tried to tell Draco on their last meeting about her amnesia, but it had been impossible. The words just wouldn't come.

By now she was sure it was the fault of the damned diary she had found in her cauldron. It called itself Tom and seemed nice, but it was the only thing that could have caused her problems. Ginny tried to stop writing in it, she really tried. It never worked; she always found herself writing in it at the end of the day.

Her mind seemed to split at times; often she didn't remember that she was missing memories. Moments of complete if helpless clarity like now became rarer and rarer.

'Stop it! I don't want to; I don't want to…' she screamed helplessly inside her mind as her hands sought out the diary and began writing.

Dear Tom, today…

Draco gently massaged his forehead. He could feel a headache coming. It had taken him more than a month to assemble information he should have been able to gather in a week at most. Books and old editions of the Prophet had seemingly been misfiled and he had to fight constantly against the compulsion to simply ignore relevant things. He had to be exceedingly careful not to rouse suspicion. Now that his grandfather was incapacitated Dumbledore might very well resort to more extreme measures if he threatened his plans. That meant he had to cut down on his contact with Harry as far as possible.

Fact 1: The Chamber of Secrets had allegedly been opened in the 40's although it had been kept quiet.

Fact 2: The girl now known as Moaning Myrtle had died in 'a freak accident' and come back to haunt the place of her death, the girl's bathroom on the second floor where the attack on Mrs. Norris had taken place.

Fact 3: Hagrid had been accused of harboring a dangerous animal that had caused the petrifactions and Myrtle's death. After he had been expelled the incidents stopped. Strangely, he had been employed as the groundskeeper from that day forth.

Fact 4: Tom Riddle a.k.a. Dark Lord Voldemort had received an award for special services to the school at the same time.

Fact 5: Dumbledore had been the Transfiguration Professor at the time and knew all this.

While Hagrid did have a decidedly warped view of what made acceptable pets Draco didn't know of anything that would be able to petrify people, kill without a trace (a ghost looked exactly like when he had died. Draco had seen Myrtle and she was physically intact) and be able to avoid detection. Gorgons only caused petrification, but they were human-sized and shouldn't be able to avoid being spotted by the portraits. Cockatrices were another possibility that could both kill and petrify, but the things were normally too loud to go unnoticed.

'Of course, Slytherin was a master of chimerology, the art of creating new life forms. He could have created anything.'

"Draco, are you coming? The Dueling Club is about to start." Kevin said.

'Great, just when I was about to connect the facts.'

"I don't know why you're so excited about it. It'll be probably pretty lame." Draco answered when he stood up.

"Hey, don't say such things. It's going to be great."

The Dueling Club completely fulfilled Draco's expectations of something taught by Lockhart assisted by Snape. After getting embarrassed by the Potions Professor Lockhart caused a free-for-all fight that produced a number of injuries.

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells." said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall after the chaos had been cleaned up. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair. Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you…"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart." Snape smiled maliciously. "How about Nott and Potter instead?"

The crowd backed away from the pair. Harry seemed very nervous and Nott confident. Lockhart losing his wand when he tried to show off to Harry obviously didn't do anything to reassure the boy. Draco noticed that Snape whispered something into Nott's ear before they took position

When the match started Nott raised his wand and calmly said "Serpensortia!"

A large black snake emerged from his wand, ready to strike. Harry froze at the sight and the crowd screamed.

"I'll get rid of it. Don't move, Potter." Snape drawled lazily.

Before the black-haired man could do anything Lockhart shouted "Allow me!" and pointed his wand at the snake. Instead of vanishing the conjured animal was thrown high into the air and landed directly before his friend Kevin Entwhistle. Immediately it raised itself again, ready to strike. Then something happened Draco didn't expect.

Harry hissed at the snake.

'Fuck me with a wand. Harry is a Parselmouth.'

The snake immediately relaxed, but a quick look to the sides showed Draco that the other students didn't see it that way. Even Kevin didn't seem to understand that Harry had calmed the snake and ran out of the room after shouting at Harry. The rest of the student body looked at Harry as if he was infectious.

'Great, just great. Now the entire school will think he is the Heir.'

Later that evening Draco lay in his bed, thinking. Kevin was still badly shaken, but Draco thought he had managed to calm him down somewhat. Unfortunately he couldn't do anything about the attitude of the school at large.

He hadn't known that Harry was a Parselmouth. That was highly sensitive information. It was nearly inconceivable that his older counterpart hadn't known that fact or neglected to transmit the knowledge. That was the last proof he needed that he was definitely missing things. Well, he would have to try and find everything that had perhaps been misplaced during the holidays. He would even have to open the 'do not watch until puberty'-memories.

Anyway, for now he wanted to try something else. Once his roommates were soundly asleep Draco snuck out of the room, his silver scrying bowl in hand. As soon as he was in his bathroom stall he began the scrying. Until now he didn't have a starting point; without knowing where to look his talent was useless. Space in Hogwarts was often warped, making a systematic search impossible.

Myrtle's bathroom seemed the best place to begin. He didn't dare to speak with her, but perhaps he could discover some hint from afar. At first glance everything seemed to be normal. Then he tried to move his viewpoint through the different walls. Before he finished with that task someone entered the bathroom.

'This is Ginny. What is she doing there at this time of the night?'

Watching in fascination, he observed how the redhead approached one of the sinks at a wall he hadn't gotten around to test yet. Looking closely, he saw that the girl's mouth contorted in a hiss while her eyes had a curiously empty expression and seemed to glow faintly. Then a section of the wall opened and the sink sank into the ground, revealing a large stone pipe. Ginny reached down, touching a specific section of the edge. From the sides of the pipe steps emerged, forming a circular stair leading into the depths. Pale ghost light provided illumination.

Draco's vision followed Ginny during her entire journey. He could see that there was a network of pipes and tunnels, but the staircase went directly down, bypassing most of them. Finally the descent ended in another system of tunnels. Ginny stepped heedlessly over a gigantic snake skin of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor.

That was all it took for Draco to understand. 'A basilisk. This will be a problem.'

Several minutes later Ginny entered an enormous pillared hall. She came to a halt before a large statue of a bearded wizard. When Draco looked closely he spied a diary in the girl's hands, its pages fluttering as if alive. For a time nothing seemed to happen, but then the mouth of the statue opened, revealing a dark, slithering form.

In that moment Draco ended the scrying, his mind working furiously.

'It looks like Ginny is possessed by the diary, whatever it is. Most likely it was enchanted by Tom for opening the Chamber again. How can Dumbeldore not know what is happening? He has most of the information I have and was here when it happened fifty years ago. It would be the easiest thing in the world to set up an alarm ward in Myrtle's bathroom. Besides, the Gryffindor common room has a portrait as guardian. Ginny literally can't wander the castle without being detected; not when Dumbledore knows something is afoot.'

A yawn interrupted Draco's thoughts. It was very late and he needed sleep. Tomorrow evening he would think about it more.

Daphne looked critically at her blond friend. "You look like death warmed over, Draco."

The boy shrugged. "I had a bit of trouble sleeping."

Deciding to let it go, Daphne switched to another topic. They had set up a silencing spell. Binns wasn't worth listening to, anyway. "What do you think about Harry? I never imagined he could have been a Parselmouth."

"It was certainly unexpected. I still don't think he has anything to do with what happened to the boy and the cat." Morag answered.

"Are you sure about that?" Stephen asked hesitantly. "I mean, being able to speak to snakes is a sure sign of being Dark. Kevin is still terrified about the snake."

Daphne, Morag and Draco exchanged glances. They knew very well that all Parselmouths were labeled as Dark Wizards in the public opinion. Most of the Old Families had a different opinion, but it wasn't wise to openly state such a thing. The Snake Wars had taken place almost two centuries ago, but ever since then all Parselmouths had been vilified. It wasn't as if one would be lynched anymore. Sometimes it came close, though.

"Where is Kevin anyway? He didn't feel well this morning and went to the hospital wing, but he should be back by now." Draco asked with a frown.

Suddenly Daphne noticed that the other students were rushing out of the room. "Draco, take down your spell. Something is happening."

The group had trouble seeing anything since they were at the back of the crowd. One thing they could see was the Gryffindor ghost Nearly Headless Nick floating immobile and horizontal. His normally pearly white color had changed into a smoky black. Soon enough the shouts made clear what had happened, though. Harry had been found standing over the petrified body of Kevin Entwhistle.

Morag's and Stephen's face showed shock, but Draco looked immensely angry. He clenched his fists so hard that Daphne was afraid he would hurt himself. A moment later he relaxed and his face lost the expression of anger, replaced by a fake worried expression.

'What is going on here? He clearly knows something.'

Suddenly a loud bang went off, stopping the commotion. McGonagall had arrived.

'That old, demented fool. Does the safety of the students mean nothing to him?'

Draco was pacing again, but this time he had chosen an unused room. Considering what had happened fifty years ago the school should have been evacuated, but once again there weren't even new security measures introduced. At least the last incident had made clear to him why the victims were only petrified and not dead. Apparently meeting the basilisk's gaze only indirectly changed the magic somehow. It opened another nasty can of worms, though.

There had been water on the ground when Mrs. Norris was petrified. The stalker boy looking through his camera while encountering the basilisk was strange (who did that while walking in an empty corridor?), but at least somewhat plausible. That Nick had been just in the right position when the basilisk appeared to shield Kevin was stretching luck too much, though. It was almost as if he had been sent to shadow the basilisk and only intervene when a student was about to be killed.

'Dumbledore knows, but he is doing nothing to stop it.'

Neither Creevey nor Kevin had been in a place to where the basilisk could easily get. It should have been spotted by some portraits. That led to only one conclusion. They had spotted it, but did nothing. Unfortunately, all portraits in the castle had to obey the Headmaster.

Dumbledore wasn't responsible for letting the basilisk loose, but he prevented people from finding out and taking effective measures. Under normal circumstances the Daily Prophet should have been screaming about it and parents should be withdrawing their children en masse. Well, perhaps not the parents who believed in the legend that only muggleborn would be targeted. As it was Dumbledore (with the probable help of Fudge) was suppressing the news. Draco wondered if he somehow tampered with the mail or if his reputation was enough. Apparently the old man wanted to let this play out, probably to forge Harry into the martyr he wanted.

'Another possibility is that he truly believes only Harry can do something against Voldemort because of that damned prophecy. When the time is right he will steer Harry into a confrontation.'

It was always difficult to tell what the old man's true plans were. Draco had no intention of letting him get away with it, of course. Which was the reason why he was lying in wait in this room. A quick Tempus-charm showed him that it was almost time.

Opening the door to a small gap he peered out. Footsteps approached, causing Draco to withdraw a bit. As soon as they receded he poked his head out and looked in all directions. A single small form with red hair was walking away from him, but otherwise the coast was clear.

"Stupefy!" Draco whispered. A red light sprang from his wand and hit Ginny in the back, causing the girl to slump to the floor.

Before anyone could see them Draco dragged her into the empty room. It was a bit awkward to search her, but he couldn't afford any unnecessary scruples. Soon he held the diary in his hands. A quick perusal proved that it belonged to a T.M. Riddle and seemed otherwise empty. His first few diagnostic charms showed nothing, but when he tried to nick it with a low-powered cutting charm nothing happened.

'Okay, the thing is clearly magical and cleverly enchanted. I doubt anyone apart from the professors would be able to unravel it.'

Weighing his options carefully, Draco came to a decision. He didn't feel ready, but didn't think he could wait for another opportunity.

With a deep breath he began casting one of the spells the other Draco had sent back. It was an unbelievably complex spell to analyze magical phenomena that was a state secret of the Mage Moguls of Southeast Asia. More than once he felt the spell matrix slip from his grasp and he struggled to provide enough magical power lest the spell collapse, but somehow he managed. Soon his mind began to dive into the enchantments of the diary.

'Protection against fire, water, acid, magical analysis and dozens of other things… Huh, don't know what that one does; something about memory and illusion… another layer of protections…'

When Draco was finally finished he slumped to the floor, completely exhausted. This diary was a Horcrux, among other things. A Horcrux he had known nothing about.

He glared at the harmless looking diary. This vile thing had already made a connection with Ginny and was slowly draining her life. It wasn't very effective in that endeavor, though. In fact, judging from its actions the artificial mind of the diary seemed rather stupid. Drawing attention by, say, opening the Chamber of Secrets was a completely counter-productive thing to do. Additionally, some of the enchantments were in conflict with each other or felt very strange, but he didn't have the knowledge to understand everything he had seen.

'Don't get distracted, Draco. I can't simply destroy the thing. It has its hooks in Ginny's mind. Burning it with Fiendfyre or using basilisk venom will cause a backlash. Psychological damage is almost certain. In the worst case she will end up as completely crazy; in the second worst case she'll become a vegetable.'

Wiping the sweat of his face, Draco stood up. He would have to think carefully how he wanted to proceed. Over the holidays he would be able to slip away into Grandfather's hideout. With the Malfoy pensieve and some reference books he should be able to figure out more. For the time being he would leave the diary in Ginny's possession. Removing it wouldn't break the connection anyway; it was too late for that. He had no way of safely imprisoning Ginny and bringing in external support would cause all sorts of problems, not the least questions about how he knew about such things.

After he put the diary back in Ginny's pocket he checked her over. The girl would remain stunned for perhaps five minutes; enough time for him to get away. She would probably wonder about what had happened, but there was nothing he could do about it.

'I guess I should visit Kevin in the hospital wing. Damn Dumbledore for allowing it to happen.' he though when he disappeared through a door. The matter was now personal even if the old man didn't know it.

Daphne had to hide an amused smirk while observing the two imposters impersonating Crabbe and Goyle. They tried and thoroughly failed to imitate them. Nott was having a lot of fun telling them outrageous stories.

The blond-haired girl idly wondered who they were under the polyjuice. Perhaps the Weasley twins. It wasn't as if many students stayed over the holidays. Snape had thrown a tantrum about missing ingredients a few days ago, but the thief hadn't been found. Boomslang skin wasn't used for much else aside from the shape-changing potion.

When the two boys finally fled the room Nott began to laugh. It started slow, but escalated into full-blown laughter until tears streamed from the boy's face.

"What was this about?" Daphne asked curiously when he had calmed down. She didn't like Nott, but they were always polite to each other.

Wiping the last tears away, Nott answered. "I think they thought that I'm the Heir of Slytherin and asked me all sorts of questions. I wonder what gave them the idea." He sighed. "I wish I knew who it is."

Daphne shrugged. "Don't we all? Perhaps he was sorted into another house."

"Maybe." Nott replied vaguely.

Soon enough they went back to reading. When the real Crabbe and Goyle returned Daphne barely spared them a glance. The company over the holidays at Hogwarts was decidedly lacking, but she had no interest in going home. Her parents were away on a business trip and she had no desire to spend her time alone with her uncle's family. Uncle Liam was a fanatic and she couldn't stand his wife or their children. Her little sister Astoria was with their grandmother, visiting some relations in Rome.

'I hope Draco has happier holidays.'

In a luxurious private room at St. Mungo's an old man stirred and wearily opened his eyes. He was feeling so weak.

'I'm still alive.'

Author's notes: My thanks to my reviewers.

A bit of explanation about Draco's lack of knowledge about the basilisk: The older Draco's memories of second year (and the related issues) were overwritten when Abraxas inserted the artificial memories about Luna/Aquila's childhood. Since the memories were still hidden at that point the old man never noticed.