Chapter Fifty Two - From Frying Pan to Fire

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the proverbial Duchess of Magic, JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. No matter how much I whine about not owning anything related to the HP universe, other than a few fanfic plots, I do not profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world... Damn it!

A/N: Fair warning - There is a minor torture scene at the end of this chapter. And there'll be similar in the next one, at least.

Chapter Fifty Two - From Frying Pan to Fire

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

The Friday of their second week turned out to be another quiet day. Nott had not and did not make his move as yet, but the group were feeling a little tense being on heightened alert for the entire day.

When they returned to the apartments after lunch, bringing Tracey with them, Harry had to promise both Daphne and Hermione he would not escort them both to the Arithmancy classroom.

"While I appreciate the effort you go to so we are safe," said Hermione. "When Daphne and I enter the classroom you will then be walking back to our apartment or wherever, alone."

"She's right, Harry," said Daphne. "Please promise us you'll remain here until after we returned."

"In other words, I'm grounded," he huffed.

"If you want to see it that way," replied Hermione, "Yes."

Her affirmation actually surprised him. He expected her to 'hum' and 'hah' about it before he'd smile and say he was kidding. That she didn't, showed she truly was worried.

"Very well," he said. "I shall remain in the Lords' Quarters, but may invade the Longbottom apartment out of sheer boredom."

"If you make a start on the research for the Charms and Potions assignments," she suggested, "Writing down some good bibliography, it'll help Daphne and me in getting them knocked over that much quicker."

Yup," he replied. "That, I can do."

Turning to Tracey, he asked, "What about you, Tracey? What do you have on this afternoon?"

"Muggle Studies," she quickly replied.

He gave a little snort and asked, "Muggle recent history, don't you mean?"

"Oh, no!" she replied. "The new professor, Professor Claystock, is... I think... a muggleborn. She's brilliant. She's teaching us the far more up-to-date information on muggles."

That had him perk up. "Do you think she'd mind if I sat in?" he asked.

Tracey frowned a little in thought before she replied, "I don't see why not."

Turning to look at 'his' girls, obviously his expression told them what he was asking.

The two glanced at one another for a bare moment before Hermione sighed and said, "Yes, Harry. So long as you stick with Tracey, you can go to Muggle Studies."

He grinned back, kissed both, and prepared to get ready to go by restocking his satchel.

He didn't realise both girls were now blushing. Tracey, however, could see it and was grinning at the both of them.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

With nothing untoward happening between the apartment and the Muggle Studies Classroom - somewhere in the castle Harry had only passed through without stopping in the past - both he and Tracey entered the classroom.

When the professor entered, a witch who was wearing a hooded sweatshirt for Eton College over a pair of jeans and trainers, she saw him, studied him for a moment and then decided to ignore him.

Taking that as permission to remain in the class, Harry settled back and prepared to enjoy the lesson.

By even a quarter of the way through the lesson it was clear the professor knew her stuff. Not only was her information, as far as could tell, completely accurate; but, when one of the attending purebloods scoffed at what she'd said about man being on the moon, she turned to Harry and asked, "Lord Potter?"

"Yes, Professor?" he asked.

"I believe you were raised in a muggle home, were you not?" she asked.

"Yes, Professor."

"And attended muggle schooling right up to summer break in which you turned eleven?"

"Yes, Professor."

She gave a small nod and a smirk in his direction. "Identify for me the name of the National Aeronautical and Space Administration, commonly referred to by it's acronym NASA, mission that first saw man... muggles... land on the moon?"

"I can do more than that, Professor," he grinned.

"The name of the mission was simply referred to as Apollo 11," he replied. The two men who first stepped onto the surface of the moon were Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin. That occurred on the twentieth of July, 1969.

"Since then, I believe there have been a further ten people who have set foot on the moon's surface - all muggles."

She smiled back and said, "Correct. Do you remember what Mister Armstrong said as he stepped onto the surface of the moon, being the first man to do so?"

"Yes, Professor," he grinned. "He said, 'One small step for man; one giant leap for mankind'. However, I believe he was supposed to say, 'for a man'."

"Again, correct," she nodded, before turning back to the pureblood. "Does the fact Lord Potter, who probably didn't even realise he was going to be here today, was able to give that information prove to you the basic facts I've been trying to get you to understand?"

"Errr... Yes, Professor," mumbled the Ravenclaw boy, looking away.

After class, Harry approached the Professor and thanked her for not tossing him out when she first saw him.

"Why would I do that?" she asked. "Just because it wasn't your class, and so long as you were not being a hindrance to my teaching of the class, I cannot see any reason you shouldn't be allowed to attend."

He smiled back and said, "Still; thank you, Professor."

His trip back to the apartment was done in the company of Susan and Hannah. Until he walked in and saw them in the classroom he had no idea they both took that class.

Tracey had made her way back to Slytherin in the company of Blaise Zabini, but had promised to head for the apartment after dinner.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

After a quiet Friday afternoon and evening, and a surprisingly quiet weekend, Monday was quickly upon them.

It took them a while to plan how they were going to deal with an ambush by Nott, but Tracey was able to learn more about it over the same time period.

It was Sunday evening when she found out enough information to form some idea of what the boy was up to and when his attack was most likely.

"It'll be during the next Hogsmeade visit, Harry" she explained. "He believes the wards that will alert the staff to a student being attacked and by whom are only in effect on the grounds.

"As such, he feels confident enough to take you out during the next visit to Hogsmeade."

Harry was surprised at the information. "So, Nott's proven himself smarter than Malfoy, then. Mind you, that shouldn't come as a surprise, I guess."

"There's a Hogsmeade visit this weekend," said Hermione.

"Then, I think it behooves us to go; don't you?" he asked.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

At the Monday morning fire-side, the Unspeakables were discussing the latest when Scimitar stood to give his report.

"It's confirmed," he said, right off the wand-tip. "White Knight had a Horcrux under that scar of his, or at least attached to it. Through muggle surgery it was removed and destroyed."

"Wha?" one of the junior Unspeakables blurted. "How is that possible?"

While some of the Unspeakables frowned at the young man, Scimitar smiled and waved them off. "It's a legitimate question."

He thought for a bit and then said, "It had never occurred to us that muggle means could destroy a Horcrux. It had always been the belief of our best thinkers of the subject that there was no magical means by which such a person could be freed of a Horcrux. No... magical... means.

"That's what surprised everyone when the Black Healer figured out a way. She had the boy operated upon by a muggle surgeon; a muggle surgeon who is the father of a muggleborn girl recently graduated from Hogwarts.

"The surgeon, a specialist in what's known as micro-surgery, excised the entire area around and including the scar. With it, the excising also removed all traces of the dark magic emanating from the site. They then, literally, stitched him up and sent him on his way.

"Our observers have seen the site since then and it has become apparent that, as soon as the Black Healer got him back to the where he was staying, she knocked him out again, removed the stitching and applied magical healing to the wound site. It healed.

"We've since checked him and the wound site and there's no longer any sign of the Horcrux. All clear.

"What of the prophecy?" asked another. "Surely―"

"With the removal of what we believe to have been a Horcrux from White Knight's head, we believe the prophecy to be voided," he replied. "That means, anyone can kill him now."

That surprised them all, but for those who already knew.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

It was on the Tuesday afternoon that Harry was mumbling about how to get fit that Dobby popped in and suggested the 'Come and Go' Room. Looking to Hermione, Harry could see she had that 'I've been a daft moron' expression, which must've also been on his own face; Daphne was just confused.

"The 'Room of Requirement'," sighed Harry. "Why didn't we think of that?"

Visiting the Longbottoms, Harry invited them up to see the 'special room' they'd been shown by Dobby back at the beginning of the school year before the First Task.

"Dobby calls it the 'Come and Go' Room," he explained to them. "However, we know it to be properly named the 'Room of Requirement'. You need to come and see this."

"If you say so, Harry," said Susan, rising to her feet. That soon had the others all on their feet, as well.

That led to an 'excursion' up to the seventh floor.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Walking off the stairs at the seventh floor, the six of them, with Harry and Hermione leading the way, headed across to the dead-ended corridor where the door would magically appear.

Once there, Harry began walking for about ten paces before he spun about and walked back the other way. On his third pass, as he passed the other two, a door appeared.

A couple of the girls gasping in surprise as he walked past on the third time told him the door had appeared. Immediately heading for the door, he opened it and entered.

As he walked in he got a better look at the room to see how close it fitted his thoughts and desires.

In the room in rows were all the cardio equipment, weight-lifting equipment, universal rigs, plus more he would expect to find in a 'muggle' fitness gym. And, across the room, were two doors marked 'Male' and 'Female'.

'Change rooms,' he thought.

"Wow!" he heard Hermione say from just behind.

Turning about and smiling at them, he asked, "Do you know what this means?"

"We can get fit," said Hermione.

"What is all this?" asked a clearly confused Daphne.

"Fitness equipment," replied Hermione. "It's what muggles use to get and stay fit."

Harry gave a nod to agree and walked over to investigate what he thought to be change rooms. Walking into the Male one, he found he was right. It was a small communal change room complete with two showers, two toilets, four sinks and even six lockers.

Shaking his head a little in amazement and with Neville now following behind he returned to the main room. He noticed the girls were gone. Knowing they were probably in the change room he walked over to one of the treadmills and, standing on it, felt it immediately start. He had to quickly jump off, which turned it off again.

The girls came out and were grinning at him.

"Harry," said Hermione. "This is brilliant. Do you know what this means?"

With a smirk he cocked an eyebrow at her and asked, "Forget, already, I asked for it?"

With only a light blush, she replied, "No, but that doesn't mean you know what it means for all of us."

"We can get fit, which is what I've already said" he replied. "All we need to do is source some sports clothing to exercise in and we're good to go."

"Well... yes," she replied.

He said, "Hermione, we need to ask your Mum to do some shopping for us."

She grinned back and said, "Clothes shopping? She'll leap at the chance."

After Harry and Hermione answered a few questions about the equipment they walked back to their apartments. Hermione spent most of the time explaining to Daphne why they'd need different clothes and gave her some idea what they'd look like.

Though Daphne was hesitant upon hearing what she'd be 'asked' to wear for these so-called training sessions, when both Susan and Hannah also expressed their desire to wear such clothing and train, she agreed. Neville thought it sounded like a good idea to get fit, so didn't need much convincing.

Hedwig was sent that very day to the Grangers with a large shopping list containing Hermione's belief as to what sizes and how many of each and which articles of clothing she needed for them all. Though Tracey, who hadn't been with them at the time, hadn't said anything one way or another, Hermione just went right ahead and added what the girl would need to the list.

From his stash of muggle currency, Harry added ₤800 and wrote that he hoped it was enough.

On seeing what he wrote, Hermione grinned and said, "More than enough, Harry."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

As the week progressed the Heirs, a name by which the group found out it was now unofficially known, planned their day for Saturday.

Neville and his two would go early. They'd be keeping an eye out for both Nott and Malfoy and their respective 'supporters' Tracey had cause to make known to them. Then Harry would go with his two.

Hermione asked, "What about you, Tracey?"

She smiled and replied, "I'm going with Millie and Alana. We're making a girls' day of it."

It also came to light that Nott was planning on having Harry separated from his two girls. That was what his 'hench-wizards' were for, while Nott took his revenge on Harry.

What Nott had not seemed to take into consideration was 'interference' from anyone else; including Neville and his two.

Malfoy, however, wanted Daphne with Harry when he called him out. Malfoy's intent was to challenge Harry to a duel with the winner taking Daphne. What Malfoy hadn't yet made known, or hadn't even thought of, was what did he bargain to lose.

Harry thought it was the latter.

Also learned by way of letter from the Grangers, Monica would be going shopping for the clothing on the Saturday morning. She stated the 'eight hundred pound' was far more than enough, but would use the extra to buy some extra items of clothing.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

On the Saturday morning, a little over two weeks since his heart attack, Dumbledore was prepared for his daily visit from that infernal Bones woman. Each morning since the day he found himself here, she came by to taunt him.

As she walked in the door, he sighed and thought, 'Right on time.'

She walked over to the foot of his bed and stood looking down at him, not saying a word.

Finally, he'd had enough. He knew she wouldn't speak until he did and was sick of her games.

"Get on with it, Madam Bones," he quietly said. "But, I'll save time by telling you I will not readily or willingly tell you what it is you want to know."

"Your willingness is no longer needed," she quietly said.

When he looked to her with surprise she said, "As far as Saint Mungo's is concerned, you're healed. As such, you're being removed from this place and returned to your cell in the DMLE holding cells.

"Holiday's over. Time to get dressed."

Without waiting for him to say anything back, she turned and went to the medi-witches' station. A quick rap of knuckles on the door and she was let within as Robards handed his wand to Moody and walked forward to remove the bed-manacles from Dumbledore's wrists.

As soon as the old man was free of them, Robards said, "Don't move just yet." He backed away and quickly accepted his wand back.

Dumbledore stayed sitting there, propped up while massaging his wrists. He continued to scowl at them all.

Two minutes later, a medi-witch and two burly 'assistants' came out and approached him. The medi-witch was carrying a set of prison robes.

Still scowling, he turned to her and said, "I'll be wearing my own robes, thank you."

"The ones you came in wearing were destroyed when the healers had to strip you to tend to your health," she returned. "It's these or you leave here wearing your hospital prison robes. I care not which."

She then dumped them on the foot of his bed, turned and walked back out again.

The two burly 'gentlemen', the medi-wizard aides, backed away out of reach and just stood and watched him; as did the two Master Aurors and DMLE Master Healer that had come in with Bones, Moody and Robards - Pockridge. All five now stood there, staring at him.

Dumbledore sat there, wondering what to do and being petulant about it, when Pockridge said, "Master Aurors, if he won't get up on his own within the next ten seconds, drag Mister Dumbledore out of his bed and strip him. If he won't dress himself in his given robes, we'll drag him from here to the floo point, naked, if necessary."

Shocked they would do such a thing, it wasn't until Moody and Robards started to move towards him that Dumbledore suddenly flicked his blankets back and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I'm getting up, already," he snapped.

As both Moody and Robards then stopped moving forward, Dumbledore sighed in relief before he moved to the foot of his bed on his own feet and lifted the prison robes.

Once they were in his hands he turned to look at all five and said, "Would you mind turning about so I may dress?"

"Yes," practically all five returned. None of them turned about.

"Will you not allow me this simple dignity―" he tried.

"Strip him!" snapped Pockridge, cutting him off.

As the aurors, and even the two medi-wizard aides, headed towards him again, he snapped, "Alright! Alright!" And started to remove his hospital robes.

That halted the four again. Pockridge hadn't moved.

"You are a prisoner, Mister Dumbledore," she said. "No member of the DMLE is going to turn their back on you, ever again. Get used to it."

Dumbledore didn't say a word back, as he continued to dress himself.

Two minutes later, he was dressed in the standard vertically-striped black and white prison robes of pants and over-robe over simple grey boxer shorts. He was allowed to keep his hospital white canvas slippers for his feet.

Once dressed, Moody cast a couple of charms over him. Dumbledore recognised and felt a resizing charm, to make the clothing fit; but added two tracking charms. Oce he'd stepped back again Pockridge then stepped forward and cast health monitoring charms on him over those. Then also stepped back, with a nod to the two Master Aurors.

Robards said, "Turn around, Prisoner Dumbledore, and put your hands together behind your back."

Dumbledore sighed as if in disappointment, but did so.

Once he was in position, Robards again handed his wand to Moody and walked forward, drawing the magic-inhibiting 'cuffs from his belt as he did so.

After attaching them, ensuring they were firmly in place and backing away again, he recovered his wand from Moody.

Once he was ready for transport, Pockridge gave one of the medi-wizard aides a nod and the man went to the door of the medi-witches' station and knocked on the door.

Bones was out moments later.

"Any trouble?" she immediately asked.

"None that were not anticipated," said Robards.

She gave a firm nod back and said, "Bring him." Then headed for the main door.

Moody and Robards stepped up either side of Dumbledore and grabbed him by his upper arms, turning him about and guiding him ahead of them as they headed for the door.

Bones exited first, followed by Moody and Robards with their prisoner between them, then Pockridge.

Moments after Pockridge stepped out the door there was a major flash of light that blinded them all and very loud bang that deafened them all. A half a second later, there were multiple flashes of red.

Bones, Moody, Robards and Pockridge were all down, as were the two aides.

Also blinded by the flash and deafened from the explosion, Dumbledore could only stop right where he was. He feared moving forward and tripping over something. If he did, with his hands behind his back, if he fell forward he wouldn't be able to catch himself before he smashed his face into the floor, or whatever. A moment later, he felt the sensation of something pulled over his head and down to his elbows before his own world went black.

Seconds later there was the sound of an alarm as healers, medi-witches and -wizards and other staff hurried to where the four DMLE staff and two aides were down and unconscious on the floor. As for Dumbledore, there was no sign of him.

The Dark Lord known as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, 'Ol' Twinkles', the 'White Whiskered Wanker', the 'Manipulative Old Fool/Bastard/Arsehole', was apparently on the loose. And only the four DMLE personnel on the floor and unconscious, plus a young Dicta-quill operator Auror Second Class, knew him to be anything but Mister Dumbledore. Even the medical staff of the DMLE-secured ward of Saint Mungo's did not know he was a declared dark lord.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

At the same time Madam Bones was walking into the DMLE secure ward at Saint Mungo's to collect her prisoner, the students of Hogwarts were excitedly making ready for their day by getting down early to breakfast.

By no means the first to finish breaking their fasts, the 'Heirs' were done well before the end of the breakfast period.

Almost surreptitiously they had watched both Nott and Malfoy quickly finish their own breakfasts and 'leg it' out the door.

Malfoy still had his pair of bookends with him, plus Parkinson; while Nott had a couple of fifth years, Fergus Cowley and Thomas McGruder, walk out with him. Both groups had looked over to the Gryffindor table to ensure for themselves their quarry was right where they expected him to be.

"Two Fifth Years, Harry," said a worried Daphne. "Neither, I'm led to understand, is a slouch with a wand."

Calmly, Harry said, "It's alright, Daphne. All you need to do is shield. Let me worry about going on the offensive."

"And Hannah, Susan and I will be there within seconds; once the attack starts," said Neville.

While worrying at an edge of a page of the Daily Prophet, Hermione fretted and said, "I still don't like it."

Susan said, "Harry's right. Until they actually do something, they can't be touched. There is nothing illegal about saying to a friend you want to do someone an injury. You actually have to attempt it."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

The seven waited until five minutes had passed before they rose and made ready to go to Hogsmeade for the day. Well, at least until either Nott or Malfoy made their move.

All seven knew that, for Harry at least, his day out would be over right then. He'd have to return to the school so investigations could be made. Therefore, Hermione and Daphne were determined to get Harry into as many stores as needed to get what they needed, first; then onto the stores where he could get what he wanted, but didn't necessarily need. Hopefully, he could get all that done before Nott or Malfoy made their moves.

So, with Neville and his ladies leaving five minutes earlier - and Tracey already leaving with her friends and dorm-mates, Millie Bulstrode and Alana Runcorn - the Potters were walking out the door and on their way.

A quick ride on one of the carriages between the castle and the entrance to the village, the three were quickly off and heading for the shops.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Lying on stretchers in the corridor immediately outside the secure DMLE ward at Saint Mungo's, Madam Bones snapped awake with a jolt. And immediately recognised she'd just been enervated.

Quickly sitting up she looked around.

"Easy, Minister Bones," one of the attending Healers chided her. "You've just been enervated after someone magically attacked you."

"I'm aware," she snapped back.

She could see her two Aurors, Master Healer and the two burly aides also beginning to try to get to their feet, but couldn't see who she really needed to see.

"Where's Prisoner Dumbledore?" she snapped.

Her two Master Aurors and Master Healer both also looked about and turned back to her with somewhat masked expressions of horror.

"Not here," growled Moody.

The healer who'd chided her a moment earlier said, "He's gone. You four were the only one's here seconds after the magical blast went off."

"Anyone know what happened to him?" she demanded.

"No one," replied the healer. "This part of the hospital had been cleared, as per your orders."

Wincing, Bones climbed to her feet and looked to her three supranumeraries. "Check the site directly outside the door of the secure ward. What happened, happened there. I want forensics."

Moody and Robards gave nods back and immediately moved back down the corridor to the site of the attack. Both were casting as they went.

Looking to Pockridge, she asked, "You're alright?"

"You're all alright," said the healer, cutting in. "However it was done, by whomever did it, they just caused an explosion that was all bright light and noise. We believe it was meant to stun only. It temporarily robbed you of both your sight and hearing, but with no lasting damage.

"We believe it was some form of ultra-bright Lumos and Cannonblast charm, combined; though one of our muggle-raised referred to it as a 'flash-bang' and something muggle made."

"Right," sighed Bones, when she saw her two senior aurors return. They both shook their heads. It meant no worthwhile magical trace could be found.

"Thank you, Healers and staff," she said, before putting all her attention to on her own staff. "Back to the DMLE. We need to track down our escaped prisoner before he does any more harm."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

In somewhere unknown to most Dumbledore was awake, but unable to do anything as he was still manacled and still had some large black bag over his head and down to his elbows. He was sitting on what felt like a hard wooden or metal chair. His hands were still manacled behind him and felt as if they were through a gap between the chair back and seat.

He did not know if his sight had returned, but suspected it was as his hearing was back. He had tried to call out for someone's attention, but heard in response.

However, from the echo of his voice he knew himself to be in a moderately sized room with either furniture or light sound baffling on the walls. The echo of his voice had that slight muffled sound that comes from when in a room that has furniture. Mind you, he had not thought about the effects of the hood, but suspected it was of reasonably thin material considering how it's weight felt upon his head.

He had also tried to get off the chair he was sitting upon, but discovered he couldn't. Someone had stuck him to it with a sticking charm on both his bum and his back.

He had been sitting there for almost half an hour since he woke when he was startled by the bag being yanked off his head and torso in one quick movement.

Blinking the bright light out of his eyes he found himself sitting before a desk and back about five feet. A few seconds later and he realised he was sitting in what could be thought an office, except there was just the desk, two chairs and a few pictures on the walls.

But it was who was sitting on the other side of that desk that surprised him.

"Algernon?" he blinked.

"Dark Lord Dumbledore," the Head of the Unspeakables quietly said back.

Dumbledore visibly winced.

"A misunderstanding, I assure you," he quietly said. "Now, if you can see yourself to removing these manacles from my wrists I can get on with the very important tasks I need to complete."

Croaker smirked and said, "You mean, get total control of Harry Potter in order to shape him into your personal weapon to point at Tom Riddle and have them fight each other until one of them dies?"

Dumbledore was stunned silent. He was at a loss for words.

Knowing he'd just shocked the old man to his hospital slippers Croaker continued, "The reason you are here is because we don't want Amelia Bones killing you before the answers to our questions are eventually dragged out of you. We're better at it than she is."

That immediately put the old man on his guard. "I'm sure I do not know what you mean."

Suddenly his vision turned a slightly reddish haze. Looking down he could see he was glowing with a red glow.

His eyes snapped up to look at Croaker in shock.

"Yes, Albus," smirked Croaker. "That's a Truth Chair."

"They're banned!" cried Dumbledore.

"We're the Unspeakables," retorted Croaker.

When Dumbledore again appeared at a loss, Croaker chuckled. "My, how the mighty have fallen.

"The muggles have a saying, Dumbledore. It's quite apt, here. 'Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely'. You are corrupted absolutely, old man. You have no redemption within you. It's why Bones was able to confirm with magic you are a Dark Lord."

"But... you don't understand," tried Dumbledore. "Harry Potter must face Voldemort. It's the only chance our world has. Surely, you must know that."

"I know a great deal more than you think I know, old man," he shot back. "I know a great deal more about this situation than even you know."

When Dumbledore appeared confused, trying to work out what Croaker could know that he didn't, Croaker just grinned at him.

"For instance," he said, "You believe Harry Potter must die in order to defeat Riddle, right? Because you believe he has a Horcrux behind that scar of his?"

The old man, trying to use his Occlumency to show no sign of recognition of the Unspeakable's words, had no idea how badly he was failing at that. Croaker was very well versed in the muggle expertise of reading micro-expressions. Even expert Occlumencers couldn't completely hide those.

Croaker chuckled and said, "I can see by your expression I'm correct." Still carefully watching he could see the old man was trying to figure out how he, Croaker, was able to 'read' him so well.

Dumbledore actually thought it was some form of subtle Legilimency.

Croaker decided to throw him a bone. "Well, it'll interest you to know he does not. Only a couple weeks ago, Andromeda Tonks - already knowing there was a soul fragment behind the young Lord's scar - took the boy to a muggle hospital. There, they excised all the corrupt tissue out, unknowingly together with the actual Horcrux, and healed the boy back up again.

"I've already had my experts on soul magics check the boy out and they confirm the Horcrux is gone.

"So, how about that, Albus? The muggles have a way to fix the problem where the magical world didn't. Master Healer Tonks is about to release a paper to the International Healer Collegiate on using muggle surgery to excise magically corrupt tissue from patients with wounds that cannot be healed magically - which removes that which is blocking the magical healing - then apply the magical healing.

"Our healers have already read the drafts of the paper and concur. Further, they've already adopted her recommendations into their procedures for all such curse wounds in future."

Croaker leaned forward a little and, with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, said, "So, Albus, with the Horcrux gone from within the boy, the boy does not have to die in order to defeat Tom Riddle for good. You... were hell-bent on seeing young Lord Potter... a child... practically commit suicide because of a falsehood you believed to be the truth."

Again sitting back as he watched Dumbledore's eyes as he clearly tried to work through what he'd just been told.

While the old man was thinking, somewhat lost in his thoughts, Croaker suddenly demanded, "Albus, how many other of Riddle's Horcruxes do you know of?"

Again, Dumbledore's eyes snapped to his in shock.

"Well?" demanded Croaker.

"Errr..." stuttered the old man. "I'm not sure―" As his vision started to develop a red haze again, he shut up.

"Come on, Albus," snapped Croaker. "Your verbal manipulations are not going to work. How many of them are there?"

With his Occlumency up to as strong as he could get, Dumbledore replied, "I'm sorry; but, for the security of the magical world, I cannot give you that information."

"Well, how about a bargain before we get serious," suggested Croaker. "You tell us how many you think he made, and we'll tell you how many we've already collected."

Again, Dumbledore's Occlumency wasn't enough for him not to give a slight change to his expression.

Croaker chuckled back, but it wasn't of humour. To Dumbledore, it sounded almost evil.

"Wh-what do you mean?" he asked.

With his smirk not changing one whit, Croaker said, "You get nothing back until you answer my question. Tell me how many you think he made, first."

The old man firmed his lips in defiance and refused to answer. Then, his first sign something was going to happen was when Croaker flicked a finger.

Then he felt incredible pain in his mind. A Legilimencer had attacked. A blink of an eye later and he realised it wasn't one Legilimencer, but multiple. Three.

While his Occlumency, unharmed, could withstand the attack of even Riddle, it was not prepared to withstand the attack of three... no, four... Legilimencers working in concert.

"How many Horcruxes!?" demanded Croaker, loud and firm enough for the old man to hear, even through the almost blinding pain he was feeling in his mind.

Suddenly, the pain stopped as the Legilimencers, clearly standing behind him, all suddenly withdrew.

"He believes six," replied a new voice. "Six parts of the soul and the remaining prime."

"Interesting," said Croaker.

It took Dumbledore a few long moments before he could properly see again. When he could again focus on Croaker it appeared the man's smirk back hadn't changed a jot from before the attack.

"As we now have that information, Albus," said Croaker. "I can tell you we have already found three. That, together with the diary young Lord Potter destroyed in June, 1993, tells me four of the six have been dealt with.

"Five," said another voice from behind. "He believes the soul fragment that was in the young Lord Potter's head was one created accidentally."

Croaker gave a snort of amusement and said, "You cannot create an accidental Horcrux. What nonsense. It was a soul fragment, yes; but not a Horcrux. That's why the muggle Healers were able to successfully remove it."

"He believes it was one of the six, though," said the second voice.

"Hmmm..." Croaker non-committally muttered. "Which just goes to show why you, Dumbledore, should have brought this to our attention back when you first learned of it. Anyone with expertise in soul magics would have been able to tell you it was impossible to create an accidental Horcrux.

"Albus," he continued, "We are the Unspeakables. The security of the magical world is our job... not yours. When you were Headmaster, the only security that was your problem was security of the castle and its inhabitants. When you were Chief Warlock, if there was an issue with the security of wizarding Britain your responsibility was to inform us. Then, we'd take care of it. And, when you were Supreme Mugwump, if there was an issue with the security of wizarding world your responsibility was to inform the ICWs Unspeakables; or us.

"You are still bound by that responsibility, Albus. So, inform us.

"If you do not, we're not only going to eventually dose you with our version of Veritaserum, but my team of Unspeakable Legilimencers are simultaneously going to rip away at your mental defences until there is not a shred left. You've now already felt the effects of that.

"In effect, they're going to mind rape you of anything and everything. We're going to know if the rumour concerning you and Gellert Grindelwald... that you were actually young lovers... is true or not. We're going to know if you murdered your sister, Ariana, or not. We're going to know of every crime you've ever committed. We're going to know... ev-ery-thing."

Croaker gave that a moment to sink in before he said, "Next; what do you believe the Horcruxes to be? And, I remind you, not answering the question will see you suffer yet another Legilimency attack of such power even your vaunted Occlumency shields will not be able to withstand it."

"Which ones do you believe you have?" he asked right back.

"Again, my question first," said Croaker. "However, this time, if you do not answer my question without the information being ripped out of your mind, then you will not learn what we have collected.

"So... again... What do you believe the Horcruxes to be?"

"I do not know―" tried Dumbledore, before his vision took on a red tint again.

This time he didn't even see the finger flick.

Pain, agony, pressure. Dumbledore felt the four Legilimencers rip though his mind. However, this time the attack did not appear to last anywhere near as long. He knew that was because his shields were already battered to almost worthlessness.

That same second voice said, "The diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle, destroyed by Mister Potter in June 1993; Lord Potter's scar, destroyed by the muggles; Riddle's wand; the Hufflepuff Cup; Slytherin's locket; Slytherin's potions athame; the cape brooch of Godric Gryffindor; and the Ravenclaw Diadem."

A new voice added, "Possible locations: Gaunt Cottage in Little Hangleton, where his mother grew up; Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton, where his father grew up; the old Wool Orphanage, where Riddle himself grew up; a cave along the seaside cliffs, near the town of Falmouth in Cornwall; in the Ministry, somewhere near the Minister of Magic's office, if not within the office; and the school, possibly... even probably... within the Chamber of Secrets, or in the Slytherin dorms."

The second voice said, "He believes Riddle to want famous and lost artefacts of the Founders of Hogwarts to be his Horcruxes and he wants to put them in places of importance to him."

"Which just goes to show he never wanted to make Harrison Potter a Horcrux," said Croaker.

Dumbledore slumped in his seat, breathing heavily. His head was throbbing and he desperately wished for a headache relieving potion that would not do more harm than good. However, he knew that taking such a potion would wreak havoc on his ability to rebuild his Occlumency shields later. The only treatment for a Legilimency attack that had no negative side-effects was quiet rest in a darkened room and wait the headache out.

A few moments later, Croaker again fixed Dumbledore with a stare and demanded, "Albus, do you know where Riddle is now?"

Dumbledore struggled to lock that knowledge deep in his mind and said, "I don't―"

Red haze. Pain.

He didn't even know he'd screamed until the pain stopped.

"Probably back in England, somewhere," said the third voice. "He suspects such, based on Potter's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire. He believes Crouch Junior, irrespective of what he said during his trial, to have been in contact with him. He believes the information was locked in Crouch's mind under secrecy charms."

"Hmmm..." said Croaker. "Then, we'll just have to visit the prison and get the information out of his head."

Dumbledore valiantly tried to gain information for himself. "Wh-what... items... do you... claim... to have?"

"I told you, Albus," said Croaker. "You lost the right to even ask for that information when you refused to freely answer mine."

"Wh... where... were... they?"

"Hmmm..." said Croaker. "As you were never actually asked where you thought them to be, I'll freely answer that one. One was in the school, as you thought one to be, but not in the Chamber or the Slytherin dorms. It was in a hidden room called the Room of Requirement. Two more were in places you didn't know; one was at the Black home in Grimmauld Place, Kings Cross, and another was in a vault within Gringotts. It took us a lot of effort to get that one."

"Whhhat... were―"

Croaker cut him off and replied, "I told you, Albus; you don't get to ask that question.

"My turn," he continued. "Why had you not already gone to search the places you thought them to be for yourself?"

"No... time," replied the old man. "For... Harry... to do."

Croaker gave an amused snort and said, "You effectively left in place what would be a treasure hunt for a fourteen year old boy to figure out."

He thought about that for a long few moments before he said, "That was the purpose of those so-called traps in that corridor back in 1991/92, wasn't it? You wanted to see how well Potter could puzzle something out."

"N-no," said Dumbledore. "I did not... know... of the Horcruxes until... later."

"But, you still wanted to test his ability to puzzle things out, though; yes?"

It was a long few moments before Dumbledore finally admitted, "Yes."

Croaker nodded back and said, "Now you're starting to be upfront and honest. It's a start. Because you're now answering questions with the truth, I'll reward you by giving you a break.

He then looked behind Dumbledore's back and said, "Take him to his cell. Leave the light off for him so he doesn't suffer further pain from the light. His head must be pounding."

Dumbledore felt the magic restraining him to the Truth Chair and only able to face forward release. As he slumped, hands grabbed him by his upper arms from either side and lifted him out of the chair. Then that blasted bag was yanked over his head again and he could see no more.

After being walked though doorways and down hallways, a couple minutes later he was marched into a room after he heard a heavy door released of it's locks.

Then he was marched forward about five feet and held still. Suddenly, the manacles on his wrists were released and the bag over his head immediately yanked off and away.

For barely a second he only stood there as his eyes tried to see, before he was forcefully spun about and shoved backwards to sit on what felt like a small bed or cot.

Then the two Unspeakables that had forced him here, without a word spun away, walked out and slammed the door shut. Then he heard the sound of a large bolt being thrown shut, locking him in.

The only light he had in the room was what was coming from under the door and through a 'peephole' slot high up on the same door. But, it was enough for him to see in the dim light he had the cot he was sitting upon, complete with blankets and a pillow, a sink and a toilet. No window, no decorations, no idea or way to learn what time it was. Even the light outside the door would not give him some idea as it would very likely be permanently on.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

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Once Dumbledore was out of the room, the remaining Spectral Threat team members, who were hugging the walls of the Interrogation room under Secrecy charms, all stepped forward and cancelled the charms. It was those charms that was actually stopping the old man from looking around other than at Croaker, not the magics of the chair.

"Well?" asked Croaker.

"Monocle's right," said Scimitar. "White Beard's a Dark Lord. He just doesn't believe it. He won't accept it."

"I'm aware," said Croaker. "Tell me what I don't know."

"We'll want to pump him for a lot more information than just about White Knight, Riddle and the prophecy. For example, while Whip was whacking away at the bastard's pain receptors, we learned the following: He believes Bookworm is his Heir - or, at least the Heir of the Minor House of Dumbledore. He believes her to be the many times great granddaughter of his maternal grandparents, Tiberius and Elizabeth Puckle; making her his maternal cousin, four times removed."

Croaker gave him a look and demanded, "Has he informed her of this?"

"No," replied Scimitar. "It appears he would rather she never learn of it. He'd rather see the Line of Dumbledore end with him and his brother."

"And, just how did he plan on stopping her from going to the goblins for an inheritance test?"

"Minor compulsion charms," he replied. "Knight's Shadow have already checked all of the White Knight's family and friends and did not find any such charm on her at the time. White Beard's been nowhere near her since then, so he can't have put one on since."

"And the compulsion charm I ordered put on said family and friends not to remind our little knight to come in to hear the prophecy?"

"Still holding," he replied. "As is the charm on the elf not to check for such."

"Hmm..." said Croaker. "Next?"

"His sister, Ariana, the one who died as a child soon after White Beard finished Hogwarts," he replied. "She was an obscurial."

That clearly surprised the Head of the Department. "Who stopped her before she killed everyone?"

"He and Gellert Grindelwald, working together," replied Scimitar. "And, yes, the evidence of he and Grindelwald being friends before White Beard headed for France to take on an apprenticeship with Flamel are not only true, but more than that.

"He and Grindelwald were, as suspected, lovers. So, yes, he's a homosexual. But, it's surprising to learn, so was Grindelwald."

Croaker's only expression of surprise was a little grunt of acknowledgement.

"And, about Grindelwald," said Scimitar.

"Go on."

"He's not dead, as we surmised," he replied. "He's locked up in the highest point of Nurmengard. That's why White Beard only ever says he 'defeated' him, whenever anyone pressured him on it. Because, he could not truly claim he 'killed' him."

"Hmmm..." said Croaker. "As Grindelwald is clearly locked within his own prison and hasn't managed to escape in all this time, I guess we can consider him secure, for now."

Scimitar nodded.

"Anything else?"

"A lot of bits and pieces I'll need to sift through," he replied. "Nothing yet germane, though. I'll write up a report on it all, this afternoon."

Croaker nodded and said, "I'll want it complete before I drag the old bastard back in here, tomorrow.

"In the meantime, you now have other possible locations and identities of Horcruxes to investigate. Set your team going on that while you write your report."

Scimitar gave a nod and he and his team quietly left.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ