Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Puppet of Time

Chapter 8

Draco sat back from the pensieve with a despondent sigh. He couldn't do this. The damned diary was far too complex for him to fully understand, let alone disenchant. Despite all his diligent studying and transplanted memories Draco still was a second year student. He lacked the knowledge, skill and magical power to deal with such things. Thanks to the pensieve and the reference books from the Malfoy libraries (open, hidden and the family secret one only he and his grandfather knew about) he had made some progress, but there just wasn't enough time. It was very difficult to slip away from his family during the holidays for hours a time, but he managed. In a few days he would have to return to Hogwarts, ending all research he could do.

'Well, what I did learn is very interesting.'

He had acquired a rough understanding what each enchantment did, but the how and especially the interactions of the individual spells mostly eluded him. That made it impossible to develop effective countermeasures. One thing he did learn was that the diary was a failed attempt at making a horcrux. Oh, there was a piece of soul enclosed in it, but it didn't have any connection to the rest of Tom Riddle. It did nothing to anchor him in this world. His best guess was that there were so many different enchantments on the thing that they interfered with each other in addition to some fundamental flaws in the assumptions Riddle had made when he worked out the ritual he used. After all, it wasn't as if there was a ready-made instruction for the creation of horcruxes in the Hogwarts library.

Secrets of the Darkest Arts held some information, but it was so rudimentary and simplistic to be basically useless. Thanks to his future memories Draco knew that a copy of that book had been in the restricted section before Dumbledore had removed it. The old fool probably believed it was as simple as murdering someone to fracture one's soul (souls didn't work that way), taking a loose piece of soul and stuffing it into an object using two or three simple spells. There was a lot of misinformation in circulation thanks to authors presenting mere speculation as fact, translation or transcription errors or sometimes even deliberate falsification. Just because something was written down in a book didn't make it true.

The true process (or rather processes; there were many different ways that would yield a similar end result) was far more complex. It was a testament to Tom Riddle's intellect that he had been able to cobble a working ritual together from pieces of information strewn over dozens of different books while he was still at Hogwarts. That didn't mean he got it right, though.

'I wish I could compare the enchantments on the diadem with the diary, but there just isn't time.'

After putting away the books Draco had used he left the hideout. His parents and Aquila were at the Ministry's New Year reception and Grandfather was still at St. Mungo's. The news of his grandfather waking up had come as an immense relief. Unfortunately the old man was still very weak. He would return to Malfoy Manor before the holidays ended, although he wouldn't be able to leave his bed for a month or two.

Draco had needed to fake an illness to stay home, but he had needed the time. Luckily the house elves would cover for him since they rather liked him; a thing that couldn't be said of his father and to a lesser degree his mother. If not for his grandfather the two would have needlessly mistreated the elves by assigning excessive punishments. Why his father did such a stupid thing Draco didn't know, but at least his mother seemed to regard it as completely normal behavior. It was probably some masochistic tendency of some of the Black house elves she had grown up with.

At least what he had seen of Walburga Black's house elf Kreacher supported that theory. Great-Grandfather Pollux Black had put him down years ago, but Draco had visited Grimmauld Place one time while he was still alive. The creepy thing along with the portrait of Walburga had given him nightmares for days. At the current time the house was unused; none had bothered to clear it from dangerous objects, creatures and curses.

'I wish I had known about the locket horcrux at the time. It would have been an easy picking. Now I have to wait for another opportunity to visit the house.'

When Draco returned to the main house he took extra care to erase his tracks. No traces could be allowed to remain that indicated he had left his room. Changing into his sleepwear, he crawled into his bed, thinking about what he could do.

He couldn't just leave the situation alone. If he let events take their course Harry would probably end up facing the basilisk and the diary. It would be just like Dumbledore to engineer such a situation. That could easily mean the boy's death and everything would have been for naught. Then there was Ginny. She would either die when the diary completely drained her life or suffer incalculable mental damage if the diary was destroyed somehow. Draco didn't wish that on anyone; especially not an eleven year old girl who was friends with his sister. That wasn't even talking about the possibility of a second Tom Riddle running around if the diary was victorious, although Draco was pretty sure that there was something wrong with the enchantments responsible for revival.

'I have to involve Grandfather; there is no other way. But what should I tell him?'

Propped up by several pillows, Abraxas simply stared at his grandson. He was pretty certain he would have fallen down if he wasn't already in his bed. His body was still so damned weak, but at least his mind and magic seemed to be working correctly. Well, considering what he thought Draco had said a moment ago his mind might not be in that good a condition.

"Please repeat that, Draco."

His grandson shuffled slightly on his feet. "I had another vision. When I followed the hints I discovered that a basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets is loose at Hogwarts. It was freed by a girl controlled by a magic diary enchanted by Voldemort. The vision taught me some kind of complex diagnostic spell to use on the diary. Unfortunately I don't understand what I saw and put the memory in the pensieve along with a few other things. I strongly suspect Dumbledore knows but isn't doing anything about it. For some reason he's putting pressure on Harry; pushing him to deal with it. The vision was clear that we have to destroy the thing, but make it look like Harry was responsible. If it is in any way possible we have to free the girl without damaging her; I don't know why."

Abraxas pinched the bridge of his nose. This complicated things. Since he had woken on Christmas he had done his utmost to catch up on current events, but the healers hadn't been especially forthcoming. Some crap about not putting any stress on him. Well, not knowing what was going on in the world was far more stressful in his opinion. He had heard some rumors about something happening at Hogwarts, but nothing definitive. Lucius had begun on his own initiative to put pressure on the board of governors and Minister Fudge to investigate or throw Dumbledore out if he couldn't deal with the situation. For once Abraxas agreed completely with the actions of his son. He didn't especially like that Lucius had taken over practically all his positions (on a temporary basis), but someone had to fulfill those duties.

Now that he knew a basilisk was slithering around he was sorely tempted to withdraw Draco and Aquila from Hogwarts immediately. Those things weren't exactly able to distinguish between people and the risk of his grandchildren being attacked was not inconsiderable. On the other hand he was still far too weak to make all the necessary arrangements and it would draw attention to him. He had been incapacitated shortly after Halloween. Now it was already January. There wasn't much time left for him to recover and arrange Harry's, Draco's and Aquila's flight from Britain. Besides, it would be far too dangerous to disregard such a vision. Following Draco's last one had proved highly beneficial, after all.

"Did you see anything more?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, but I can't tell you everything. The vision was very clear what I can tell you and what I can't."

In the following minutes he and his grandson discussed the details. He would have to see the contents of the pensieve for himself, but he provisionally agreed with Draco's plan to return to Hogwarts. During his recovery he couldn't really leave the manor and take care of other business; ample time to find a solution for the diary problem. There was only one question left. "Do you know a way out of the castle? I can't exactly do anything while you and the girl are at Hogwarts."

Draco nodded. "There is a vanishing cabinet at Borgin and Burkes we'll have to buy. Its counterpart is already at Hogwarts, but it is damaged. I know how to repair it and it will circumvent the wards completely. That shouldn't take me more than a few weeks."

After Abraxas gave his approval and Draco left he drew up a letter to one of his bailiffs to purchase the cabinet and send it to him. The woman normally oversaw some of the Malfoy properties and interests that he liked to keep out of the public eye. They were not illegal, but definitely on the shadier side. She was just the right person to arrange for an anonymous transaction with a business as disreputable as Borgin and Burkes.

Once he had completed that task he relaxed and tried to get some rest. Unfortunately, the threefold question that had been foremost in his mind ever since he woke up kept him from sleeping. What had caused his illness, how had it been done and who was behind it. The options for what were poison or some obscure spell or curse ritual. All examinations of his person and all the things he had come in contact with had come up empty. He had no idea about the what and how. Unfortunately, the who was even more difficult.

'I have made too many enemies. There are probably more than a hundred people who would stop at hardly anything to see me dead. If someone like Rafid the Lord of Thieves found out my real identity or some other way to get to me…'

Abraxas shuddered. In his youth and especially during the decade he spent in the Middle East he hadn't been always as careful as he should have been. Experience came with age, after all. He had made more enemies than necessary. Granted, by now most of those enemies had already met their end and he had used a false identity during those years, but it was always possible that someone had tracked him down.

Some part of him wondered if Lucius was responsible. Impatient heirs were a known problem, after all. Still, he didn't want to believe that of his son. Additionally, Lucius just wasn't that good a schemer. Unfortunately he couldn't get confirmation. In the past few years Lucius had improved his occlumency skills enough that Abraxas couldn't simply read his mind without making it obvious. He just couldn't chance a potentially violent confrontation in his weakened state. If he was wrong and Lucius got away before he could wipe the memories it would destroy their relationship completely and Lucius could potentially start a criminal investigation against him. It would fizzle out quickly considering who he was, but he just didn't have the time to deal with a problem of such magnitude.

Sighing, he decided that attempting to sleep was futile. Instead he called one of the house elves to bring him the last issues of the Daily Prophet. He might as well catch up on the news. Abraxas noted several things of interest. He chuckled slightly when he came upon one of the more amusing articles.

INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, called today for Mr. Weasley's resignation. "Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."

Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.

Weasley was an incompetent fool and a hypocrite. The only reason he occupied any position of importance was his association with Dumbledore while his original employment was thanks to nepotism. The now practically extinct Prewett family had possessed enough influence to get him a job after he married Molly Prewett right out of Hogwarts. The man knew barely anything about the muggle world and was too stupid to learn in an organized manner.

It was an interesting and little known fact of life that the leading purebloods houses often knew more about the muggle world than the bulk of wizards and witches. Someone had to know enough to keep their world hidden, after all, and many old families had business interests there. Money had no smell. Abraxas had been carefully tutored in his youth how to act appropriately and stay inconspicuous, just like he had done for his grandchildren. Over the years he had kept his knowledge as up to date as possible. He knew very well that he had only a very basic understanding of science and many other things, but at least he had some of it. Unfortunately, this knowledge wasn't as common as it once was mainly thanks to people like his son choosing willful ignorance.

The closeness of the relationship between the wizarding world and the muggle world varied widely over the decades and centuries, depending on the actual political climate. It had ranged from complete isolationism to deep fascination, complete with adopting things that made sense in a muggle context but were less than useful to wizards. The last 'modernization' had been pushed through after the Grindelwald war by Dumbledore and his friend Elphias Doge, but they had only been the last in a line of politicians with such an agenda. A similar push took place every few decades. Consequently a counter-movement disparaging all things muggle had formed whose most extreme excesses had ultimately given rise to Voldemort.

'Lucius was once again far too rash. I agree that the Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped, but he went about it in absolutely the wrong way. He should have spoken quietly with the right people until he assembled enough votes. Well, I think I can still manage it.'

People like Weasley seemed to regard muggles as harmless, good-natured zoo pets when they were anything but. Abraxas considered wizards superior to muggles, but that didn't mean he underestimated them. After all, humans were superior to animals. That didn't make a wolf or a poisonous snake harmless; you had to be careful how you dealt with them.

The Muggle Protection Act as a whole was little more than another power grab by the Ministry bureaucracy; which was probably the reason it found enough supporters in the first place. It was an old problem that the Ministry tried to get more and more influence over daily life while being incompetent at many rather important tasks. Well, Abraxas would hopefully be able to head off at least this attempt. As soon as he was mobile enough he would have to arrange for the children leaving Britain.

"Daphne, Morag, I need your help with something that has to stay secret at all costs. How good is your occlumency?"

Daphne exchanged a glance with Morag who had put her current book down. Draco had been unusually agitated ever since his friend Kevin had been petrified. Judging from his reactions he knew something about what was going on, but the blond boy had not confided any of his friends in. Apparently that was to change. Inquiring after another's skill in occlumency was considered very rude under normal circumstances.

Morag was the first to answer. "I can hide small things, but I'm not very good overall."

"It's similar for me. I'm becoming pretty good at noticing subtle intrusions." Daphne added.

Draco nodded thoughtfully. He was obviously thinking very hard what to tell them. "Okay, that means I can tell you a little bit."

"What about Stephen?" Morag asked curiously.

"Unfortunately I know his father isn't teaching him the mind arts. I guess he thinks Stephen is too young. Anyway, I need to move something into another location in the castle, but it's too large to move for me alone and no one can see us, especially not the portraits. "

Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Does it have anything to do with this Heir of Slytherin business?"

Her blond friend seemed uncomfortable. "Indirectly. It should help me solve things. We aren't actually doing anything forbidden. Well, aside from being out after curfew. Please, don't ask me anything else if you aren't sure your mind is protected."

It was very difficult for Daphne to suppress her questions, but she trusted Draco to know best what to tell them. He obviously suspected the Heir business was somehow tolerated by the faculty and didn't want them to find out what he was doing. She knew both Dumbledore and Snape were skilled in the mind arts. Her family had warned her about them early, but it seemed as if almost everyone trusted Dumbledore not to abuse his privileges and skills. Since Snape was here and not in Azkaban on Dumbledore's word alone people assumed the old man would control him. Daphne was very wary of the Head of Slytherin House. She had overheard Uncle Liam boast of his Death Eater days and the greasy potions master featured in some rather gruesome stories. While she didn't like being near such a person evoking his ire would definitely be worse, so she kept her head down. Dumbledore was a slightly different matter. Her grandmother always said you could work with him if absolutely necessary, but never trust him.

Seeing Morag's accepting nod Daphne agreed to help Draco.

Several hours later she cursed herself for giving in so easy. Levitating a large wooden cabinet was hard work if you wanted to do it longer than a few seconds. She didn't have the slightest idea what Draco wanted with the thing. They had picked it up on the floor above Filch's office and were taking turns levitating it.

"Are we there yet?" Daphne asked when Morag once again took over.

"Soon. We have to avoid portraits." was Draco's reply.

That was very difficult since the damned things were nearly everywhere. Most seemed to be sleeping, but it was unwise to take chances. Sometimes Draco cast a spell she didn't recognize that made them invisible for a short time, but each application seemed to tax her friend greatly. Finally they arrived in an unremarkable short corridor and Draco called for a halt. For a moment he stared at a bare stone wall. Then he began tapping several stone blocks in a certain sequence. A second later the wall opened, revealing an empty room.

"Okay, that should do it. Thank you for your help." Draco said after they had deposited the cabinet inside the room.

"No problem, Draco. Will you ever tell us what this was about?" Daphne asked.

Draco shook his head. "Not anytime soon. It is better you don't know."

"If you think so." She was a bit disappointed, but Draco had warned them that he wouldn't reveal anything.

'Well, at least I finally broke a rule. It would have been boring otherwise.'

They were almost back to the point where they had to separate for their different common rooms when suddenly footsteps sounded from the corridor in front of them.

"Oh no, we have to get away quickly before he discovers us." Draco said.

"Get away from whom, Mr. Malfoy?" a voice asked from behind.

Whirling around, Daphne and her friends saw Professor Snape standing behind them.

'He must have come out of one of the side corridors.'

"Well, well. What do we have here? Students breaking curfew. What are you doing out of your beds at this hour?"

Daphne's mind went completely blank when she struggled to find a believable answer. She couldn't believe that they had forgotten to make up some pretext in case they were caught. Draco seemed to have similar problems.

Suddenly Morag grabbed Draco's hand and spoke up. "We visited the Dark tower, sir. Tonight there was a shower of shooting stars. It was a very romantic sight."

In that moment Daphne realized what Morag was doing. Considering their position in the castle that was believable and Professor Sinistra had told them about the shooting stars. Since it was cold inside the castle they all wore their thick winter robes. Deciding to play along she took Draco's other hand. She actually didn't have to fake the blush that spread over her face. "That's right, sir."

Snape gave them no indication if he actually believed them. "I see. Unfortunately for you that is no excuse, Miss MacDougal. Five points from Slytherin and ten from Ravenclaw for breaking curfew. Each of you will serve a detention with me; separately of course."

Wisely none of them voiced any objections. In that moment Filch arrived. Apparently it had been his footsteps they had heard. The man was huffing and puffing and didn't manage to get a word out, but his glare spoke volumes.

"I have this well in hand, Argus. You can go back to patrolling." Snape said in a commanding tone.

Filch eyed them for a moment, but backed off. Without speaking a word he disappeared down another corridor. Snape first delivered Draco and Morag to the Ravenclaw dormitory before he led Daphne down to the dungeons. He didn't speak one word the entire time and it was beginning to freak Daphne out. Only when they arrived before the Slytherin common room did he ask a question.

"Aren't you a trifle young to make any moves on young Mr. Malfoy, Miss Greengrass?"

"He is a very eligible bachelor, sir. Getting into things early might make the difference in the end." Daphne answered.

Professor Snape looked at her with calculating eyes. "I suppose so. Try to be more discreet. I will keep this to myself. This time. Don't let me catch you again, Miss Greengrass."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

'That was a close call. I really hope it was worth it.' Daphne thought when the door of the Slytherin common room closed behind her. They had gotten off lightly, probably because Snape was loath to severely punish one of his Slytherins and his godson, even if he and Draco weren't close and barely talked outside of lessons. Since the last attack was already several weeks past the usual nightly activities had picked up again, especially among the upper years. Hopefully that would be the end of it.

"I can't tolerate it any longer, Albus. Even half of his own house has turned against the poor boy. I will interfere, either with your blessing or without." Professor Pomona Sprout ended her tirade.

The Headmaster simply looked at her, obviously thinking of an answer. She really didn't understand the man anymore. Ever since that sorry business with the Heir of Slytherin had started more and more students had turned against Harry Potter, but Albus didn't allow any of the faculty to do something about it. He was of the opinion that it would sort itself out. Then there was the matter of the petrified students. They should have been brought to St. Mungo's, not kept in the castle. Mandrake restorative draught was expensive at this time of the year, but they didn't have to wait until her batch at the school matured. The worst thing was that she felt as if she had this conversation before.

Suddenly Professor Sprout noticed that she could no longer move a muscle. Only when Albus stood up did she see the wand in his hand. His face wore an expression of sorrowfulness she had rarely seen before.

"I'm deeply sorry, Pomona, but I can't allow this. For Harry to fulfill his destiny he has to learn certain things. The making of a hero requires hardship. He is our only hope. I would ask for your forgiveness, but I don't think you will give it to me." He sighed heavily. "This is the seventh time already. Minerva is so much easier to handle. Obliviate!"

…

Professor Sprout blinked. She felt as if she had missed something, but the Headmaster didn't seem fazed.

"Thank you for your report on the mandrakes, Pomona. If there isn't anything else… ?"

Something was niggling at the back of her mind, but it just wouldn't come to her. Perhaps she would remember it later. "No, this is all. Thank you for your time, Albus."

Abraxas' face was filled with worry when he closed the book. The enchanted diary was the stuff of nightmares. Many of the spells involved went right over his head. He wasn't really an enchanter or curse breaker; his working knowledge in those subjects would be best described as a patchwork. Oh, he knew enough to get by, but normally he would hire specialists for such a task. Even in his time as unsavory adventurer he had other people to take care of those aspects, but he didn't think he could involve specialists for this. There would be too many questions asked.

One conclusion he had made from the memories Draco had left behind was that Voldemort had made several horcruxes. The diary was obviously a failed one judging from the spells he saw; that meant there had to be more since Voldemort was still in this world.

Besides being an horcrux the diary was so heavily enchanted that he saw no way to safely neutralize it. Oh, destroying it would be relatively easy with something like fiendfyre, but there would be a terrible mental backlash. He didn't care for the Weasley family one bit, but the girl was innocent and a pureblood. Condemning little girls to insanity or death wasn't something he enjoyed. He couldn't let the diary continue with what it was doing, though.

Then an idea emerged. 'Perhaps I don't have to. The vile thing controls the girl, but if I can unravel the hooks in the girl's mind it should be enough. The mind arts are one of my fortes, after all.'

It certainly bore thinking about. He would have to examine the connection on the girl's end before he could come up with a solution. Draco would have to complete his work on the cabinet beforehand, of course.

'Finally finished.' Draco thought when he observed his handiwork. The cabinet was finally repaired and the first test had been successful. It had taken him longer than expected; the first week of February was already drawing to a close. Now he only had to abduct Ginny complete with the diary without anyone noticing.

'I wish I could do something about Harry.'

Despite his best efforts a large part of the student population had turned against Harry. Draco was trying to act as a moderating voice, but he didn't dare to draw too much attention. Another compulsion from Dumbledore was to be avoided at all costs.

'Dumbledore will be away to a session of the Wizengamot next Saturday; I will strike then.'

Ginny soundlessly screamed inside her head to no avail. She couldn't do anything and was a helpless prisoner in her own body. Her mind felt as if it had split in two since the middle of December. There was a real-Ginny that she self-identified with and there was a stupid-Ginny. If the diary wasn't directly steering her actions stupid-Ginny was in control. All ambition and ability to really think seemed to have been stripped from stupid-Ginny; the bloody imbecile was the perfect picture of a stupid, helpless girl. All the sneakiness and desire to really better herself was gone, replaced by an incredible gullibility. The brain-dead chit even believed Tom to be her friend.

Despite all the suspicious things like waking with blood on her hands (from killing roosters) stupid-Ginny didn't tell anyone about it. Her greatest fear was to be expelled. Their mind was taken over and the idiot feared leaving school. Before the split real-Ginny had tried to tell other people, but apparently constantly suppressing her will had become too much bother for the diary. As far as she could tell stupid-Ginny didn't have access to all their memories, not that it made much difference. At least now real-Ginny stayed awake during the time Tom took completely over.

Currently her body was walking through a deserted corridor. It was early Saturday morning. Stupid-Ginny had a predictable schedule and would spend the day mostly out of sight in one of the unused towers, writing even more in the diary.

Suddenly Ginny noticed the reflection of a red light in one of the suits of armor lining the hallway. Before she could react she felt something collide with her back and slumped to the ground.

The spell didn't seem to have hit properly; Ginny could hardly move but was still conscious. From where she had landed she could see a door opening and a familiar platinum-blond boy entering the corridor. When Draco approached her he seemed to realize that she wasn't completely out.

"Sorry about this, Ginny. I hope we can help you. Stupefy!"

The last thing she saw was a red light approaching her.

Fenrir Greyback sullenly stared into his beer jug. The notorious werewolf was in a bad mood. Not only tasted the beer like piss but his young and tender prey had escaped him on his last hunt. To make matters worse his money was running out. Times after the Dark Lord's fall had been bad, setting him back enormously in his task of building a werewolf army. Voldemort had paid well for the services of Fenrir and his pack. Well, the lack of funds was the reason why he was in this ramshackle little tavern in the middle of nowhere and drinking beer that easily could have been horse piss. The only other patrons were a drunken hag and three mountain trolls; which was fitting considering the barkeeper was a river troll.

'At least my contact is on time.' Fenrir thought when a cloaked figure entered the door. After a short stop to orient itself the figure headed to his table. Fenrir recognized the half-concealed flick of an unidentifiable wand. A moment later the noise from the wind and the other occupants of the bar died out.

"Good day, Mr. Greyback."

"There's nothing good about the day."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. As long as a day isn't over there is always potential, wouldn't you agree?" A large bag appeared from between the folds of the cloak and was set on the table. "My, it seems I have misplaced my money bag. Whatever shall I do?"

Fenrir took the back and looked into it. It was filled with golden galleons; several hundred by his estimate. "What is my job?" he gruffly asked.

"I'm not hiring you for anything, Mr. Greyback. What I do is merely pointing out that it would be fortunate if a certain individual meets an untimely end. It just so happens that I lost my purse containing four times your usual fee." The cloaked figure slid over a parchment. "Currently that person is too well protected, but there will be opportunities in the future. Something is already being arranged. Be warned, though, this person is very dangerous."

'Wizards and their bullshit.' Fenrir thought while he perused the parchment. He knew why the contact was so circumspect; he was a savage but he wasn't an idiot. People like his contact tried to get as much deniability as possible if they were ever interrogated. Still, he had worked with the man for over a decade and his word and money were always good. When he reached the name on the parchment a vicious smile stole over his face. He would enjoy this one. Killing one of those high and mighty pureblood lords and tasting their blood was a rare treat, even if this one was probably all bony and stringy because of his age.

Author's notes: Nothing much to say this time besides thanks for all the reviews. So long.