THAT's not a knife... THIS is a knife!

Summary: Any summary I can write would give it away. Heck this isn't even about knives, so even the tile is misleading :-)

Also note that while most of this fic is in the first person, some parts are not. Should be fairly easy to figure out which is which though.

Legal Disclaimer: anything you recognise in this story belongs to someone else, most likely to JK Rowling and/or her business partners. Any characters you don't recognise are mine. The specific plot in this fic may be mine; I say "may be" because fanfiction is vast, and one can never be sure there isn't a very similar one elsewhere. I'm not getting anything out of writing this.

Saturday, Sep 3, morning

I have already begun to hate my prisoner.

Well, even more than I already hated him for being a blood-traitor anyway. And far more than I hated him for being such a damn good auror and putting so many of us in jail.

I'd captured him the previous Monday, and until the next day, it had not occurred to me that I would have to at least feed the bastard.

Already, after only five days, the daily chore of having to go down the ladder in the trunk with a platter of food, to keep the blood-traitor alive, was becoming really annoying. I'd started with two meals a day, but very quickly cut that down to one. After all, it was not as if the bastard was actually doing anything that would need the energy.

Goddammit, I have to do this till next June!

In fact, my instructions were clear: I'd have to give him reasonably nutritious food, to be doubly sure he would not die prematurely.

How the heck am I going to continue this for ten months without losing my mind one day and offing the bastard?

Saturday Sep 3, 2 pm

I got an owl at lunch today. A bloody Gringotts owl. Summoning me to a meeting. Bloody fecking creatures undeserving of their magic, thinking they can summon me? Me! ME! Oh they will suffer for this once the country is in better hands. They need to be completely wiped out.

I wiped a bit of drool that had escaped my mouth at the thought.

Oh wait, the summons was addressed to my prisoner. That explains why the owl looked confused - came to me, flew away, came to me again, flew away again, and finally gave me the letter.

Well, anyway, I'm not surprised that the bastard was a slave to these creatures' whims. Once you're a blood-traitor, anything else is just an easy step.

I wonder what the feck those cretins want with him! Might be interesting to find out.

The only problem was the risk. Blood based magic is not to be fooled, and the goblins used it liberally.

Saturday Sep 3, 4 pm

I eventually decided I would take the risk, so I went to Gringotts at the appointed time.

Well not exactly at the appointed time - I dawdled a bit, intentionally, and went an hour late. No need to show them as much deference as this bastard evidently used to. They may as well get used to the idea that even bastards they had under their thumb can learn, in time, to despise them.

Fecking creatures made me wait one more hour. They wouldn't even let me go, once I was seated in their bloody cold meeting room. I tried to get up after a bit and leave, and three of those creatures pointed swords at me.

Thank God they allowed me to keep my possessions. I needed my usual hourly drink; things would have gone to pot if they'd taken my flask away from me!

Saturday Sep 3, 5 pm

One of the creatures finally walked in with a set of files in his hands.

He was expecting a greeting of some kind perhaps, but I stood my ground. As I said, let the bastards get used to it. This - and worse - would be the new norm. Soon. Very soon!

I stopped myself from going muahahaha on them. Even with this ugly face, an evil leer would get nowhere near the ugliness these creatures were born with.

The creature spoke. God I hate that bloody accent - why can't they learn to speak like we do at least.

"Why did you place an order for 10,000 pounds of tea from China?"

Say what? What the heck did the bastard auror want with ten thousand pounds of tea?

"Do you even know what the price of tea in China is?", he asked.

I noticed the guards had left as soon as this one had come in, so I simply got up and left. Whatever bad things they could do, it would not be to me anyway.

Sunday, Sep 4, morning

Prof Filius Flitwick, charms master at Hogwarts, and master dueller, was relaxing in his rooms. Breakfast on Sundays was a leisurely affair, with people spending a lot more time talking, and it was well past 9 am before he had come back to his rooms.

He made himself an extra large pot of tea. It was the first Sunday in the academic year, and he did not have any homework to grade or any other work. Sure, his ravens were studious, but even the most studious of them knew that you didn't bother teachers on the very first Sunday of the year!

His floo chimed. It was his cousin Norius, from Gringotts.

"Good morning cousin Filius", said Norius. "May I come through?"

"Good morning to you, cousin Norius! Please do", he said, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. He and his cousins enjoyed a good relationship - always had, since they were children. Some of the other goblins sometimes resented his status with the wizarding school, including the fact that he got to wield a wand, but Norius was never one of them.

They spent a few minutes talking about family, Norius catching Filius up on various bits of information about the extended family.

Eventually, Norius came to the point.

"I need your help, Filius, in resolving a somewhat unusual situation! One that can only be resolved within Hogwarts, but of course your headmaster will never permit us to do that!"

Filius grinned. "And yet he forgets my connections and ties to the nation", he smirked. "What is it you are looking for?"

Norius told him.

Filius was intrigued. And when he heard the details, was even more curious. He jumped right in, in fact, deputising his cousin also in his investigation.

Monday, Sep 5, morning

I feel a little confused.

I had woken up as usual, and gotten an elf to make up a platter of food to take to the prisoner - (he must be kept healthy, he must be kept healthy, I kept repeating to myself, lest I forget).

The platter of food was now gone, but I do not have a memory of going down those goddamn stairs. Bloody steep stairs, but with such a narrow opening, that was to be expected, but God I hate them.

Of course, if it was just the food platter, I would have levitated it down, but I needed a regular supply of the bastard's hair.

And yet there was a couple of neatly cut strands of stringy gray hair on my desk.

Was I so out of it I did this all in my sleep?

Sep 6, morning

The same thing happened today also. I had the elves get me a platter, but I don't remember taking it down, but it's gone!

And there's a couple of freshly cut strands of hair on my desk.

Sep 7, morning

Today was the same as yesterday.

The mind must be an amazing thing. I was doing my job, but - because I hated it - my mind was suppressing the memories. That had to be the only explanation.

Of course, only people like me would be capable of such enormous insights into the magic of the mind, so it was fitting that only I knew of this so far.

Maybe one day, when the world is "fixed", I will write a paper on this.

Sep 8, lunch time

Just in case - better not risk my master's wrath in case something else was going one - I decided to go down at a time when I was normally not even in my room, and check on him.

When I was in there, I remember being confused and worried, but not why. It's just a vague memory, but it's there, for what it is worth.

And yet, when I came out, I was feeling cheerful and happy.

This, despite there being even more vague memories of me being questioned for a long time. But that was clearly my imagination.

Must be the mind again. Maybe I need to do some research on this. Even a few experiments. On others of course.

Anyway, my prisoner was alive and well enough that I wouldn't have to visit him for several months.

I even called Winky and told her to take food to him, grab two strands of hair, put them on my desk, and then leave. She was to do this every day till I told her to stop.

(Well, at least I have a vague memory of having called her and given her those instructions - more magic of the mind I guess!)

But I'm glad I thought of getting Winky to help so early in the game. If I'd thought of it midway through the year, or, worse, next June, I'd have had to smack myself for being so stupid.

She was already doing the same at home, so I wouldn't have to visit home also. Winky was keeping my father fed.

I must be a truly powerful wizard, because I also (again, vaguely) remember Winky telling me "yous bes a great wizard junior master! Yous imperius bes so strong it bes last tills next June. Winky bes taking care of senior master's needs till then."

How the heck did this creature even know I had imperiused my bastard father? Oh well, another mystery. More experiments to plan, this time on worthless creatures. Muahahaha!

Meanwhile, life is good. Just continue doing the Lord's work.

Sunday, Sep 11, lunch time

I got a summons from my master. The rat called me on the floo.

Apparently the rat had been sneaking around getting news. He had told my master that something had happened at my house - he had heard this by sneaking around a few aurors who he happened to tag as gossipers.

I assured him that was not true. I told him I had personally checked - thank God this form of my lord was not capable of legilimency.

Sep 12, lunch time

Something urged me to go check on my master. I have no idea why - more magic of the mind? I need to start making notes. Even if my research paper would not come about any time soon, I needed to maintain a "research journal" - I'd heard they were all the rage in research circles.

Anyway I went and checked on my master. Turned out I was just in time - my master had not been fed in almost one day, and was raging mad.

After he had calmed down, he told me what had happened.

Apparently, yesterday, there was a noise outside the building. Nagini was feeling torpid from her last meal, so he had sent the rat to investigate. The rat had come back in abject fear. When questioned, he had said "it was the grim".

Of course, grims were a myth! Everyone knew that!

His master had therefore told him to go out and kill the dog - that would show him there was no such thing as a grim.

And the rat had not come back. Nagini, eventually forced to move, had made a quick survey and said there was no other scent except a dog-man.

"A dog-man, master?", I had asked.

"That's what she said", said my master.

My master was so fear-inspiring, the moment he said that, I knew I would never again be able to enjoy any more "that's what she said" jokes. Oh well, that was life!

Anyway, now I would have to come here twice a day, every day. I don't need to tell him I am not going down into the trunk though. We'll let that sleeping dog lie.

Sep 14, breakfast

So that's what happened! The dog was Sirius Black, and he had caught the rat, and used it as evidence to free himself. It was all in the papers today.

This was bad news.

Should I tell my master that the rat was not, as we had thought, dead - eaten by a dog - but was actually alive and probably singing for his supper?

Other than the location - which was already compromised, though how the heck did Black find the location anyway? - was there anything else to worry about?

If I didn't inform him, would I find a team of aurors on my next visit?

I decided to wait it out.

Sep 15, breakfast

That was that. The rat was dead. The paper said he had died without revealing any useful information.

Could that actually be true?

I decided, yet again, to wait it out.

Sep 16, a bit after lunch

Nothing happened today. Master was fine at lunch yesterday, and he was fine today as well. Clearly Black had not realised there was more in that manor in Little Hangleton, and the rat had died without saying anything.

My master was safe! Hurray!

June 24th, morning

At last, the big day. I was shuddering with excitement and anticipation.

My life the last ten months was one long boring time, though I'll be the first to admit it could have been worse. A set schedule, with periods of some excitement around the tasks to make sure certain things happened the way they should.

Black was free, and was Lord Black. He had not, as Bella had claimed, been disowned.

Black had also taken to visiting Potter in the castle as often as he could. This was highly irregular, and Dumbledore had objected - after all, you didn't even someone like that Weasley bitch hovering around her litter every day - but Black appeared to have some dope on Dumbledore. Something to do with him not receiving a trial, and thus missing out on thirteen years of his godson's life. There was also something to do with the Potter's will being ignored? I wasn't sure, having overheard only vague snippets.

It was actually pretty funny, seeing the "light" break up over this. Dumbledore tried to get the school board of governors to stop Black's visits, but even Malfoy was kowtowing to Black.

I had already recommended to my master that, after Potter was dead, Black should be our next target. Master agreed, of course. Anyone who could get Malfoy to suck up to him was a dangerous enemy, not to be left alive even a minute longer than required.

Anyway today was the last task. Potter was ahead on points, although I was surprised that he appeared not to have needed my help. Probably Black's doing again.

June 24th, evening

How in blazes could everything go so horribly wrong in such a short time?

Because the rat was dead - kissed, actually - and master did not trust anyone else until he regained his form, I had to do double duty. Once the cup had been placed, I mumbled some excuse to Dumbledore and left, to prepare the graveyard and wait for Potter to arrive.

And yet, when Potter arrived, a round dozen aurors, and Black, and Lupin, and Bones, had turned up out of the blue.

Worse, my prisoner was there - hale and hearty and not looking any worse for the last ten months of being imprisoned in his own trunk. In fact, I had no idea how he had even got out.

They had quickly overpowered me. I have no idea what they did to my master, but one of the aurors came gloating to me that they had pushed him through the veil. He had also said my master would never come back again, whatever that meant.

They had pushed master through veil without a trial. Only these aurors - a core group of trusted men, he had boasted - and of course Black and Lupin, knew about this. I would certainly speak of this during my trial. I would not let this abuse of power go unchallenged. We have rights, and they have no right to ride rough-shod over our rights in this manner. Only we have the right to do that! Right? Right!

Meanwhile, I had plenty of time to ponder how things had not gone right.

Sunday, Sep 4 (1994!), morning

"I need your help, Filius, in resolving a somewhat unusual situation! One that can only be resolved within Hogwarts, but of course your headmaster will never permit us to do that!"

Filius grinned. "And yet he forgets my connections and ties to the nation", he smirked. "What is it you are looking for?"

"One of our goblin-friends, Alastor Moody, is probably in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Well, you know what a dead man's switch is right?"

"A muggle term for a failsafe to activate in case of someone's death or capture, if I recall".

"Yes. Well, Moody set up something similar, but with an extra twist for the magical world. Well, it activated yesterday. The twist he added was, if the switch activated - meaning he was not in control of his faculties and movements for at least one week - and he appeared to be fine, then that was almost certainly an imposter."

"Which meant you had to...?", asked Filius, readying his wand and donning dueling robes in preparation.

"We had to summon the possible imposter, and ask him a completely random question. To which he would have to make a totally unrelated, nonsensical, reply."

"And he failed the test?"

"Utterly".

"Well, he always had the reputation of being extremely paranoid", laughed Filius.

They left for the defense master's rooms to see what was going on; they would need to surprise the imposter of course. As they walked, they quietly continued their conversation in Ghukliak, so that no one else would understand.

"Yes, he was paranoid", said Norius. "In fact we'd suggested a less onerous scheme. He took one look at it - we'd written it down - and pulled out his own parchment. After we read it, and were staring at him in shock, he'd laughed and said, pointing at ours, then his, parchments, 'THAT's not paranoia, THIS is paranoia!"

In case you were wondering, that's the end. Yes. I know. A lot of guesswork on your part, but nothing truly mystifying, right?