“You memo’d.” Francis Pepper waved the unfolded paper aeroplane which had alighted on his workbench six minutes and twenty-two seconds previous. He stood in the doorway of the Minister’s outer office. The domain of Holmes, Pickler and presently Abbott and a harassed looking member of the Magical Maintenance team.

“We can handle a griffin,” the aforementioned team member announced, thumbing over their shoulder through the open door of the Minister’s office, “but that clock’s something out of Nine. Good luck Pepper.”

“Thank you, I think.” Francis replied, stepping aside to let them depart. “I heard you have a clock that bites fingers?” He asked Brinley. “Hope Dervish is reunited with his successfully. Sounds like quite the eventful morning.” He walked politely across the office, understanding time was of the essence, not just because he was here to diagnose a clock.

"Francis." Greeted Brin. "Glad to see you. Come through." He gestured. Took Francis into the Minister's grand office. The Minister was not there. He had gone elsewhere. Told Brin to reach him when the 'bloody thing was fixed'[1]. "It is like someone cursed it." Brin was not an expert in cursed items. He was an expert in policy. Before that in capturing dark wizards. Not possessed clocks. This was not really his job. There was no avoiding it.

"It started chiming the wrong hour." Said Brin. "Then it went backwards. Magical Maintenance opened it up. Dervish stuck his hand in. Blood and fingers everywhere." He was probably imagining it. But the clock was ticking in a threatening manner. Like a cat swishing its tail before it bit your hand. Brin was not putting his hands anywhere near it.

1.

From Kit

Francis paused to listen to Abbott’s explanation. He was rather fond of his fingers, and they were crucial to his job. He did not want to lose them.

“And you say you’ve checked for a boggart,” he gestured with the memo once more. “And nobody’s touched the clock before now, no maintenance, so winding, that you know of, anyway?” He asked, giving a little hum at the answers.

Francis looked about himself, and summoned the Minister’s tea table from between the armchairs which sat before the fireplace. He positioned it to the left of the temperamental timepiece. From within his velveteen tailcoat he reached a bundle of what appeared to be cloth, which he unrolled neatly on the table, revealing a set of unusual silver tools.

He consulted his pocket watch and compared the time, giving another hum. He raised his wand to the clock’s face, muttered under his breath and twisted his wrist twice anti-clockwise and thrice clockwise.

At once the clock ground to a halt and the hands moved back, then forth. There was a heavy clunk within the case, and one of the weights crashed to the base.

“I see…” Francis remarked, looking to Brin. “I have a theory. Secure the door and ward the windows.”

"Nobody." Said Brinley. He took up sentry in front of the Minister's desk. Watched Francis set up. Readied his wand. Expected a bolt to fly out. Jumped forward when it crashed. He looked surprised. Did as Pepper asked. Locked the doors. Were the windows even real here? Most of them were fake. He had never truly questioned. Shrugged. Warded them just in case.

"Done." Reported Brinley. "What is your theory? Now you have us locked in with it."

Abbott did exactly as asked, not hesitating at all. Francis was glad of this demonstration of trust. They had known each other for a long time, but even good friends would stop to query he was entirely sane at times. In relation to a finger-severing clock, it would be reasonable.

“What is your theory? Now you have us locked in with it.”

“I think there’s something in here that shouldn’t be,” Francis explained, “and I don’t want it to try and get away.” He lit his wand and leaned cautiously towards the face of the clock, and listened carefully. The clock continued to tick with a slightly uneven moment. He would have to open the face to get a better lock inside. This was presumably what Magical Maintenance had attempted to do, judging by the splatter and smear of blood on the pale paintwork.

Francis retreated away from the clock to confer with Brinley.
“I could be wrong, but if I was a betting man, I’d say we had a tamper.” Perhaps he should have brought Theta up with him - it was unusual to meet one. It was unlikely Brin had even heard of one. “And if that’s the case, when I take it apart, it might burst out. So I need your sharp wand at the ready to stun it. Then we’ll be able to trap it.” Francis seized an empty water glass on the Minister’s desk behind them, and upended it, handing it to the undersecretary.

Brinley had not heard of a tamper. He had no idea what to expect. They thought it was a boggart. But it was not. Now he was going to stun something he had never seen before. He readied his wand. He was surprised to be handed a water glass. Upside-down.

"Am I meant to catch it in this?" Asked Brin. "After I stun it?" It could not be large then.

“Yes,” Francis Pepper replied, wand in hand. “It won’t be very big - like a fly, but I want it in one piece.”

He took up position about six foot from the clock, and off to one side. With a fluid sweep of his wand the upper and lower doors swept open on their hinges, and an angry clattering began. Another weight plummeted with a crunch onto the pedestal from the trunk of the clock.

Undeterred, Francis began to manipulate the clockwork beyond, which let out a series of erratic chimes and bells, until something rattled and gave an unhealthy twang. The sound which followed was reminiscent of a wizard emptying a coin purse into a pint glass. It meant Francis would almost certainly be piecing the clock back together after this, but that the uninvited guest was making a bid for freedom.

“There!” Francis exclaimed, as a spindly spider leapt to the wall and began to race for cover behind a picture frame.

A fly could upset a clock like that? Brinley was surprised. Glass in one hand. Wand ready. Brinley watched carefully. The clock sounded distressed. Not that it was alive. But good as.

Brin did not need telling twice. He put his hitwizard skills to good use. A bang and a spark. The tiny thing dropped off the wallpaper. Into the glass. He transfigured it shut. The clock gave an awful clang. Brin looked to Francis.

"Not a second one is there?" Asked Brin. "What is a tamper?"

“Don’t think so,” Francis replied, though he was now peering into the shadowy mechanisms of the clock, wand tip lit. Nothing else appeared to be wanting to crawl out or throw something at him, so he was almost certain on his assessment.

“You poor thing, it’s made a mess of you…” He murmured to the clock as if it were a neglected animal or child. Then he remembered Brin was containing the tamper.

The door handle of the office suddenly rattled from outside. A voice called
“Hoi, are you alright in there Mr Abbott? It’s been a while?” Francis immediately put his hand into his pocket and consulted his pocket watch.

“Hah! That confirms it,” Francis exclaimed, with more joy than any ordinary bystander might. This was an extraordinary day and he was pleased to pick up Brin’s memo.

“We’ve jumped forward twenty-seven minutes. All down to that,” he pointed at the glass Brinley was clasping. “A temporal tamper. Causes havoc with magical mechanics, and particularly likes to hide in clocks.” He extended his hands to receive it for closer inspection.

“Not a creature, but a tricky, malicious piece of enchantment. They will damage clocks and sometimes they can even produce temporal disturbances around them. It must have happened as you hexed it, otherwise we would have noticed repeating, or skipped hours in here before now.” Francis held it up to the light, fascinated.

Brin checked his pocket watch. Pepper was right. Time had jumped. Or had time paused? Had they been frozen for 27 minutes? He did not feel anything different. But it had stolen 27 minutes of his life.

"I will brief the Minister. See if he has noticed any." Brinley stared at the spider thing in the glass. Pepper was pleased to find it. Brin worried. "Someone planted it in here?" He asked. In a lower voice. "To be a nuisance. Or could it steal more than time?" Every Minister had enemies.

“Someone planted it in here to be a nuisance? Or could it steal more than time?” Brinley asked, examining the tamper trapped in the glass.

“A nuisance, certainly.” Francis agreed, approaching, hands outstretched to take it. “Malicious, to disrupt. But…” he cast his eye around the Minister’s office, he lowered his voice to match, “.. might be an idea to have a thorough going over in case there’s anything else lurking.”

The tamper was lifeless, trapped in the glass which Abbott had transfigured into a complete sphere. Francis couldn’t stop himself feeling ever so slightly excited at seeing one, despite how serious it was.

“I’ll take it for examination,” he suggested, aware Two might want to swoop it up for evidence of some sort before he could otherwise. “And once you’re ready, have magical maintenance bring the clock down to the workshop, or off to a horologist as you prefer for repair.”

“Mr Abbott? Mr Pepper?” The voice called through the door again, and the door handle shook.

"Report back to me." Said Brin. He looked about them. A dread feeling growing.

He unlocked the doors. They opened to let Pepper leave. Peter Pickler looked in. Bespectacled.

They left quickly. Doors closed again. Brin locked them tight. "Pickler. Nobody is to come in or out. Not even the Minister. We have a possible 'infestation'. Prepare an encrypted memo." Brin turned to the unspeakable. Shook his hand. Grateful.

"Thank you Francis. Knew you were the wizard for the job."

END