Chapter Fifty Six - Dumbledore Cracks

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 MAJOR torture scene at the end of this chapter; though, similar to the previous one, it is not very descriptive. It is the last section. This will be the last of it.

Chapter Fifty Six - Dumbledore Cracks

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Recasting the Sonorus once he was back on the stage, Harry said, "Now, as you could see, my first idea worked and I have completed my Task. However, the Task is supposed to take the better part of an hour.

"From that, I surmise we won't be seeing the true competitors for a while. So, I'm going to give you a class, just so you won't be bored while you wait. I also remind you that, while I have completed my Task, the Task is still on. So, please don't interfere.

"Now, while the Fourth Year charm... the Summoning charm... worked for me, the Task organisers could always have actually thought things through and blocked that charm from working, just as they did in the First Task against trying to summon the egg. So, I had backup plans.

"If the Summoning charm had not worked for me, then I'd have looked like an idiot. However, I would have still had to complete the Task.

"So, my next trick would have been..." And he pulled a small plastic bag out of his pocket and held it up. "... Gillyweed!"

He held it up for a few seconds, showing it around before lowering it, and said, "Now, Gillyweed is a most unusual plant, as most magical plants are. It grows on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, most prevalently around the southern tip of Italy and around the island of Sicily.

"How is it relevant, you may ask? Simple. When you swallow a decent sized mouthful of it and you're a magical, within only a few moments it will cause you to grow gills, your feet to elongate into flippers and the webbing between your fingers to grow to the fingertips. It allows you to swim underwater as if you were born to live underwater. It requires no wand, it requires no spell or enchantment to be cast and even squibs can use it.

"It is claimed Gillyweed should last you an hour of transfigured time. That is true... if the Gillyweed is picked and immediately used. However, even with preservation or stasis charms, it will more likely last about fifty to fifty-five minutes. Now, how long was this Task supposed to last, I ask you?

"And, why is this important? Simple. It means even a squib could have competed in this event. No magical education is, or was, required. And that means this Task was not a Task that would challenge the skills of an of-age witch or wizard.

"Yet again, I confess I find myself most disappointed in the organisers of these events."

Harry quickly checked his watch and discovered they still had about forty five minutes to go.

"Well, forty-five minutes left. I wonder―"

Just then he heard a lot of shouts come from the stands. He saw people suddenly shoot to their feet and a few point out onto the lake.

Spinning around to see for himself, he saw a body floating on the surface.

Spinning back to face the judges, still with his Sonorous running, he bellowed, "Get Healer Robinson down here, now!"

Not waiting for anyone to respond, he wrist-flicked his wand into his wand holster, jammed his broom up under his legs, mounted it and took off as fast as he could.

Nearing the body, he could see by the silver hair it was Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons' Champion, floating face-down in the water.

Coming to a halt a few feet above her and off to one side, he drew his wand again and levitated her up and out of the water. When she up about four feet, he one-handed drove the broom under her waist and allowed it to push forward until she was hard up against his groin.

He cancelled the levitation charm, causing her to drop and bend in half over the handle and, leaning over her, grabbed the handle on the other side of her. Then powered back to the stage as quickly as he could.

As he approached, he could see Healer Robinson running out onto the stage to meet him.

He'd not even had a chance to stop properly before the medi-wizard had his arms under her armpits and was dragging her off the broom and flipping her as he did so, almost causing Harry to fall off in the process.

Jumping off anyway, Harry practically tossed his broom away and moved to help. He could see she was severely scratched all over, with a large parallel couple on her left cheek. He suspected grindylows were the cause.

As grindylow claws didn't contain poison, only possible infections, he distractedly thought she wouldn't scar from the scratches.

"She has water in her lungs," muttered Robinson. A quick spell and the water was ripped out of her lungs through her mouth.

Thankfully, as the last of the lake water was pulled out, she gave a cough. Just one.

"Thank Merlin," muttered the medi-wizard.

"We need to get her warm; fast," said Harry. "She's Veela. The cold suppresses her magic. The warmer we can get her the better her magic will move to heal her the rest of the way."

Robinson didn't even say a word, other than give a slight verbal nod. He quickly conjured a thick blanket and wrapped her in it, while Harry was madly casting warming charms on her.

As he cast Harry also realised those scratch marks on her cheek meant the grindylow that did it would have also ripped away her bubblehead charm. And was the likely cause of her (almost) drowning.

Just as the medi-wizard was picking her up and he was standing up, Harry suddenly found himself yanked away. It was Maxime, who had clearly hurried over from the judges table.

"What do you think you are doo-eeng?" she demanded.

"Lord Potter and I are saving this child's life, you stupid bitch!" Robinson snarled. "Now get the fuck out of my and Lord Potter's way and let us save her!"

Without even waiting for Maxime to respond, the healer whirled about and ran for the hospital tent, set up directly behind the tribunes. Harry simply ran around Maxime and charged after him.

As he ran past aurors who had started to run down to the stage, Harry called, "If Maxime interferes again, stun the stupid bitch!"

The auror didn't even respond, but Harry saw the red of a stunner fly just past him and heard someone heavy crash to the ground not far behind as he continued to run after the medi-wizard.

Fitter and not carrying a load, Harry was able to pass him and reach the tent, first. He immediately flicked up and held the tent flap out of the way, so Robinson was not slowed down in his race to get the girl onto one of his portable beds.

As soon as he was inside, Harry hurried across to the bed. "She'll still have water in her lungs. Do you have a charm that will force her to cough, even though she's unconscious?"

"Yes," snapped Robinson, before he cast just that spell on Delacour's throat. "Excreo!"

Moments later, Delacour was coughing. And managed to cough up even more water. Not a lot, but sufficient to show Harry was right.

Snapping his wand away, she stopped coughing and moaned.

He then whirled away to his mobile potions cabinet and quickly pulled two out before turning back.

"Hold her still!" he snapped. And Harry was quick to obey by the simple expedient of throwing his body over her and holding her in place.

With another cast on the girl's throat, a swallowing charm this time, Robinson gently poured both potions in her mouth, one at a time.

Harry recognised a mild healing and a Pepper-Up potion.

"Release her!" Robinson demanded. And Harry was just as quick to hop off.

Stepping back Robinson began to cast a series of health detection charms, similar to the ones Andi had cast on him a few times. Then let out an explosive sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, Harry had looked up to see Bones standing in the tent just inside the tent flap and watching. She had a grim and determined look on her face.

Robinson quietly muttered, "She's going to live."

That's when Harry heard a female voice with a French accent in distress, "Let me in, sil vous plait! Zat eez my daught-air in zere!"

Bones immediately stepped to one side and flicked the tent flap aside. She took one look and barked, "Let her through!"

Then a woman that was clearly Delacour's mother hurried in, stopped for a bare moment to look and hurried over to take her daughter's hand.

"Guérisseur?" she querulously asked. "I mean, 'Ealer? 'Ow eez she?"

"She will live," replied Robinson. "You can thank Lord Potter for that. Both for his very quick action and alerting me to the fact your daughter is Veela."

Moments later, Harry found himself grabbed and pulled into a near bone-crushing hug before she pulled back and kissed him on both cheeks. Then, again pulling him into a short bone-crushing hug.

When she released him the second time she cried, "Zank 'ou! Zank 'ou! Pour la vie de ma fille!"

"Errr..." he stuttered. "You're... welcome?"

Once the clearly upset woman, Veela, released him he quietly stepped away, walked over to Bones and said, "Hell of a day."

She just smirked back and said, "I should ask you to give a statement of what part you played in this incident. However, I watched the whole bloody thing, myself. So, let's just say you did and I find no fault with you or your actions."

He smirked back and said, "I'd best get back out there."

"Why?" she asked. "Your Task is done."

"Public relations," he replied. "A couple hundred people just witnessed what they thought was a girl drown. Most of them, children. It's best it comes from me, so I'll go out and calmly tell them she's going to be alright."

She gave a nod and said, "Follow me, then. I'll lead you back. Quite a crowd has formed outside."

"Nosy bastards," he muttered.

"You can't really blame them," she said.

He gave her a look. "Why not? Is someone forcing them to be nosy bastards?"

After a long moment she muttered, "Point."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

After 'blazing' a path through the couple dozen people who had gathered outside the tent to find out what was going on, through the simple expedient of threatening to arrest anyone who got in the way or interfered, Madam Bones led him back to the stage.

As everyone demanded answers, Harry just kept saying, "If you want answers to your questions, return to your seats." Over and over.

As he remounted the stage, Harry was thankful to find his broom still hovering right where he'd left it when he'd tossed it aside. He re-cast his Sonorus.

"Right!" he snapped. "If you want to know what's going on, I will tell you nothing until you've returned to your seats and settled down."

Then he cancelled the Sonorus, crossed his arms with his feet braced a shoulder-width apart and just stared at them all.

No matter how many yelled at him to tell them, he just stood there for a long few seconds before he recast the Sonorus and said, "Your demands mean nothing to me. If you want answers, sit down, shut up and wait. You will have your answers once everyone returns to their seats and not a second before!"

Then pulled his wand away, recrossed his arms and waited.

Eventually, they complied enough for him to answer.

Raising his wand again, he said, "Better! It appears you're capable of learning, after all.

"Miss Fleur Delacour, is currently still unconscious. This is a good thing. It means she's currently alright.

"As for what happened, from the marks and deep claw marks on her legs, arms and face it appears she was attacked by grindylows. Miss Delacour entered the water with a Bubblehead charm. From that, together with the scratch marks on her face, it appears the grindylows ripped it away while she was deep underwater.

"When she appeared, floating on the surface, her lungs were full of water, this would normally mean she had drowned. However, after clearing her lungs of said water, Journeyman Healer Robinson was able to save her life.

"I have no idea which numpty twit came up with the idea of using the lake in this, the Second Task, in bloody February of all times, probably the month when the lake is at its coldest; but they should have... at the very least... had watchers under the water to keep an eye on the competitors to ensure their safety. This incident was completely preventable. This incident was completely avoidable.

"Shame on you! Stop proving your incompetence and start bloody thinking, for a change! You, whoever you are, should now be down on your knees and thanking your lucky stars that young woman's blood is not on your hands!"

"Quietus!" Then he grabbed his broom and stormed off the stage to silence.

Marchbanks, from where she had remained at the desk because she knew not to get in the way, turned to Bagman and said, "Ludovic; you will be bringing everything relating to the Third Task to me in my office, after we complete this Task. I will be reviewing all of it. If I think you've failed to cover the safety aspects of the event, I'll be asking Minister Brunt to sack your bum."

From where he was trying to almost hide under the table, Bagman muttered, "Errr... yes, Lady Marchbanks."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

When Harry walked off the stage for a second time, he headed directly for the medical tent. Thankfully, the crowds that were there had dispersed, leaving only aurors and a photographer for the Daily Prophet.

He was just in time to be met by Hermione and Daphne, who had obviously had a pretty fair idea what he would do after leaving the stage.

"Ladies," he said, still slightly scowling.

"Did you have to go rub their faces in it again, Harry," asked Daphne.

"They deserved it," he muttered.

As he was talking he could see a small beetle rest in Daphne's hair on her hairclip. As he started speaking, it had turned from looking in the direction of the tent behind her, to somewhat facing him.

While that was odd, the fact it was February and the beetle was there was even more so.

He reached up and flicked it away.

Outside the tent stood an auror, Master Auror Connie Hammer, clearly on guard.

Harry approached her and asked, "Are we allowed to enter?"

Hammer hesitated a moment before she said, "Wait one, please." And stuck her head inside.

A few seconds later she pulled it back out, stepped aside and pulled the tent flap open as she did so. "In ya go," she quietly said.

"Thank you, Master Auror," said Harry, leading both girls in.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Inside the tent, Fleur was looking a great deal better. For a start, she was awake. Next, all the claw marks and scratches had been healed. She was also sitting propped up.

As soon as she saw Harry, her face transformed from one of unhappiness to a wide, beaming smile. "'Arry!" she quietly said.

"Hello, Fleur," he said back, walking over. Indicating Hermione he said, "You may remember Hermione?"

"Of course," she said, giving Hermione a smile and a nod.

Turning to Daphne, he said, "And this is Daphne Greengrass, Heiress Presumptive of the Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass."

"Fleur Delacour," said Fleur indicating herself. "'Eiress of the Venerable 'Ouse of Delacour; but, please call me Fleur."

"Daphne," said Daphne, with a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Fleur then gestured to the woman who was standing on the other side of the bed and had tried to hug Harry to death in gratitude earlier, and said, "And zis is my mozzer, Lady Apolline Delacour."

"Pol," the woman immediately said, smiling to both girls.

"Hermione/Daphne" his girls said in return.

Looking to Fleur, Harry said, "You had us worried. If it wasn't for quick thinking on medi-wizard Robinson's part―"

Robinson gave a slight snort and said, "Rubbish! I'd have not stood a chance to heal her if it wasn't for you. You got her out of the water and into my hands faster than could be expected. Then it was you, who informed me of her being Veela; something I was not made aware of and should have been. It was you, who immediately started casting powerful warming charms on her, allowing her own magic to help what I was doing. And it was you, who thought to use a coughing charm to force her to get rid of the remaining water out of her lungs and breathing again, even though she was unconscious at the time and barely, if even that, breathing at all.

"Clever trick, that last one. I'll be notifying Saint Mungo's and the Healer's Collegiate of its effectiveness.

"No, Lord Potter," he smiled. "I do not believe I would have been successful in saving her life if it was not for you thinking things through and coming up with fast solutions."

Harry immediately blushed and looked away.

Fleur gave him a peculiar look, which had Daphne snicker. She said, "He's cute when he blushes like that, isn't he?"

Fleur smiled back. "Oui."

Losing the smile she asked, "Did you manage to find my wand when―" And blushed herself.

"Oh!" he said. "Silly me."

Quickly spinning away and trotting out of the tent, he jogged down to the stands - where people were still waiting for the other two champions to surface - and walked out onto the stage.

He simply raised his wand and quietly cast, "Accio Fleur's wand."

A few seconds later a wand flew at him from the water and he caught it with his offhand. He spun around and, still ignoring everyone, trotted back to the hospital tent, walking back in a few moments later.

Offering it to her, wandgrip first, he said, "A simple summoning charm found it."

She gratefully accepted it and quietly said, "Thank you." No accent, that time.

He never noticed; but, Hermione and Daphne did.

Trying to think of a topic to talk about, he asked, "Do you know you're only the second witch to ever ride my broom?"

When she looked at him in, what he thought was surprise but was actually shock at what he'd said, she didn't respond.

"Yep," he said. "Hermione rode my broom from behind, but you're the first on the front, even if you were bent over at the time."

While the two Veela ladies couldn't believe what he was saying, he couldn't see either Daphne or Hermione slightly behind him, blushing and trying to hide their faces.

"Maybe next time, you can sit astraddle it properly and I promise I'll give you a good ride," he said. "But, please try and not scream in my ear like Hermione did. And, I wasn't even trying anything too... ummm... strenuous, either. I don't know what she'd be like if I really went to town."

Just then, Hammer stuck her head in through the flap and called, "Lord Potter?"

Harry spun and asked, "Hmm?"

"You're wanted down at the stage," she said. "They're announcing points."

He frowned and said, "I really don't care―"

"Go, Harry!" said Hermione, with a voice that sounded strangely strangled. "Go find out Fleur's points for her."

"Oh, alright," he said. "I can do that. Back in a couple minutes!" And he hurried out.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione threw up a massive privacy ward and immediately roared with laughter. Daphne was right behind her.

Pol said, "Errr... Her-my-nee?"

Daphne recovered first. "Believe it or not," she gasped. "Harry was really talking about his broom. His Firebolt."

While Daphne wasn't surprised, both Veela didn't seem to blush at all.

"So," said Fleur, "'E wasn't being... forwaird?"

Hermione just shook her head back, still trying to stifle the giggles. She was red in the face and had tears in her eyes.

Daphne explained, "While Harry is really incredibly smart, when it comes to the... fairer sex? He's really quite naïve."

"Clueless," said Hermione, nodding.

"So, all that―?" asked Fleur.

"He really was inviting you to ride his broom with him. His Firebolt," nodded Daphne, with a grin.

"Mmmm... Pity," said Fleur.

That had both girls look at her in shock.

"We aire Veela, ladies," said Pol. "Zink about it."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Harry was back on the stage in short order to find both Diggory and Krum were back. Both were surprised to see him.

"Harry?" asked Diggory. "Just when did you get back?"

"Cedric, I never left," he replied.

"You... didn't... even try the Task?"

Harry gave him a long look and said, "I stood on the edge of the dock, raised my wand and cast, 'Accio my Firebolt.' I only had to wait about fifteen seconds for it to shoot out of the water and fly to my hand."

Diggory's expression became pained while Krum, who'd been listening in, face-palmed himself and muttered something in Bulgarian or something. From the tone, it sounded offensive.

"Damn it, Harry," whined Diggory.

"Hey," he said. "It's not my fault you forgot you were a wizard."

When the points were announced this time, it wasn't Bagman doing the announcing, it was the new bloke from the DIMC.

Krum received forty eight; he was two minutes late. Diggory received forty five; three minutes late. And Fleur received twenty five; for at least being on the right track with a Bubblehead charm. And, as demanded, Harry received five points; one each from each judge.

The IMC bloke, Snodway, announced the next Task to take place on the twenty fourth of June, in four months time, and bid everyone a safe trip back to wherever.

"Bastards," Harry muttered. "It makes more bloody sense to hold it on the twenty fourth of May, not June. We should've taken the Express back to London about two weeks earlier than that."

He didn't realise Diggory had heard him until the 'Puff said, "I couldn't agree more. Bloody idiots."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

When Harry made it back to the tent he told Fleur the scores. He had no idea the girls had been laughing between themselves until about a minute before he returned.

Fleur sighed and said, "I should 'ave got a zero."

"Hey," he said. "You put in the effort and did well until you were attacked by the grindylows. Not your fault."

"Do you know if someone went and got my 'what I'll miss the most'?" she asked.

"No idea," he asked. "I'll ask Madam Marchbanks about it later for you, if you like. She likes me."

"You could summon it, Harry," suggested Hermione.

"Hmm..." he said, thinking it over. Looking to Fleur, he asked, "This thing you would miss the most, what is it?"

Fleur's hand rose to between her breasts and, lightly grazing her upper chest with her fingertips, said, "My locket. It was a gift from my grandmere. It 'as two peectures een it. On one side it 'as a picture of my mozz... my mother and my father. The oth-air, is a peecture of my grandmere and my leetle sister, Gabrielle."

"Describe it for me," he demanded.

"It eez a gold chain with a gold locket," she began. "Zee locket is shaped like a large love 'eart. It is 'inged on one zide and 'as a small clasp on zee ozzer. The 'eart izz abou' an inch and a 'alf in size."

"Right; give me another couple minutes," he said, before turning around and jogging out of the tent again.

"Where iz 'e going?" she asked.

"Down to the edge of the lake to summon your locket," replied Daphne.

She was grinning. Actually, both girls were grinning.

"Y-you are see-rious?" asked a shocked Fleur. "'E's going to summon eet?"

Both nodded back.

Less than a minute later, Harry walked back in, offering it to her. "That was a lot easier than summoning my broom. I really had to fight to hold my wand when I did that."

"You summoned eet?" she asked. "Your broom?"

Before anyone else could reply, Pol did. "He did, my flow-air. Eet waz a most eempressive piece of mageek."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

Fleur was allowed to leave the hospital tent to return to the castle a little while later. However, she didn't stay long. Her mother had taken a 'suite' at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade and Fleur had decided to stay with her, with her Headmistress's reluctant permission.

Harry also later found out that Headmistress Maxime had copped a bollocking from Madam Bones for her actions in interfering with the medical treatment of Fleur. Maxime had claimed she thought 'The Potter boy' was not being helpful. And was immediately disabused of that notion.

It was that and Lady Apolline staring the woman down, which allowed Fleur to spend the night with her mother at the Three Broomsticks. The rest of the Beauxbatons contingent, along with Maxime, portkeyed back to France via the Ministry that afternoon; as did the Durmstrang contingent.

As for Harry, he too copped a bit of a bollocking off Madam Bones. This time for making everyone look like daft morons again.

In response he said, "I do not make people look like daft morons, Madam Bones. They do that, themselves. I just point it out with easily understandable concepts and demonstrations.

"Bagman and company, being daft morons, is what nearly got Fleur Delacour killed. If they had simply taken the time to review what they were doing... thought it through... what happened to her today was, as I said, completely avoidable.

"To me, Bagman and company are guilty of gross negligence occasioning bodily harm. I don't know about the magical world, but I know that's a crime in the muggle world. I have no sense of guilt for pointing out how much I think the idiot a daft moron.

"The fact he holds a Directorship of a Ministerial department proves to me Fudge was just as big a daft moron as I thought him to be."

Bones gave that pinched nose bridge with the offhand and furrowed brow expression that told Harry she was frustrated and couldn't do anything about it.

"Very well," she sighed. "However, you're racking up a great deal of enemies."

"I've got plenty already," he shrugged. "The Death Eaters are at that top of that list, I'm sure. As for Bagman; it's not difficult to win a battle of wits when your opponent only has half."

That had her give a snort of amusement, before she looked at him and said, "Clever."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

The next morning, the Heirs walked down to the Great Hall and were met by both Delacours in the entrance hall, where they were clearly waiting for them.

Fleur was again wearing her Beauxbatons uniform.

On seeing the Heirs, Fleur's face lit up in pleasure.

"Bon matin!" she said. "Good morning!"

"Bonjour," said Hermione, with Daphne only half a heartbeat behind.

The others, including Harry, said, "Good morning."

"We need to leave," said Pol. "'Owev-air, Fleur wished to properly say goodbye."

Fleur crossed the few steps to Harry that now separated the two groups, raised both hands to cup his head at the neck and gently applied a kiss to each cheek.

Pulling back a little, she looked him right in the eyes and said, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he smiled.

"Now," said Pol. "We must be off. Thair is a time diff-air-ronce between 'ere and Beauxbatons. Zey air one 'our ahead."

"Of course, maman," said Fleur, turning back to her.

"See you in four months, Fleur," said Harry, as Fleur walked back over to join her mother.

As she reached for the quill her mother was holding, she look at Harry and said, "In four months, mes amies."

They were gone in the whirl of a portkey a moment later.

"Nice girl, when you get to know her," said Hermione.

"Yes," said Daphne, but it appeared almost a knee jerk reaction and her mind was on other matters.

Hermione's remarks broke them out of their inner reflections and had them all quickly moving towards the Great Hall to attend their breakfasts.

Daphne knew there was something important she needed to remember about Veela she was once told, but couldn't for the life of herself remember what that was.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

When the owls came in as usual as breakfast wound down, Harry was quick to receive and start reading his copy of the Daily Prophet. Hedwig was carrying a letter for Hermione from her parents, so Harry's copy of the paper was delivered by another owl, a barn owl.

The front page was all about the Second Task, even covering Harry's 'rather ingenious' method of completing it. He was a little surprised the reporter, someone he didn't know, didn't call him a cheat, or anything.

If anything, the reporter stated disappointment in the designers of the Task for not foreseeing how easily it could be completed and taking steps to make it a worthy challenge for of-age witches and wizards.

He then covered the points that Harry covered about how the Task was, in it's original make-up, utterly worthless as a Task for spectators. And then went on to include Harry's ideas to make the Task 'observable', while also adding his own ideas. Then included the point about how the original Task was to have included hostages and asked how they intended to include said hostages without the competitors knowing about them in advance, as the Task was originally organised for the competitors not to know. All points of which Harry could only agree with.

He also wrote the article about how Fleur was hurt and how Harry and medi-wizard Robinson had to work 'feverishly' to save her life, right in front of everyone. And the article was accompanied by a photograph of Harry rescuing Fleur and another of him and Robinson working on her on the stage.

However, the first article had a line at the bottom that claimed information concerning 'Lord Potter's Secret Crush' and directed the reader to the second page.

~ # ~

LORD POTTER'S SECRET CRUSH

Not happy with two witches under contract to bond - Harmony Gringer (16), muggleborn, and Heiress Daphne Greengrass (15), pureblood daughter of Lord Samuel Greengrass - Harry Potter (15) was already moving onto his third conquest, Miss Flear Delacore (17), the Beauxbatons Champion, writes Kate Erister investigative journalist for the Daily Prophet.

Immediately after his suspect but successful attempt at the second task, where he flaunted his knowledge of twisting rules, Lord Potter 'put the moves' on Miss Delacore in a tent directly behind the spectator stands. The poor girl was in the middle of recovering from a terrible ordeal, which forced her to retire from the event, when Mister Potter entered said tent.

We are not privy to exactly what was said between the two, but it was very apparent on both later exiting the tent that a certain something must have happened as both were acting overly friendly with one another.

Is Lord Potter, who was partly responsible for Miss Delacore being in that tent in the first place, looking for a third notch on his bedpost?

We shall endeavour to find just that out.

~ # ~

As soon as he finished reading, Harry muttered, "Uh-huh!" And immediately pulled out parchment, ink and quill.

'Time to sic Ted onto the bitch,' he thought as he began to write.

As he was writing he was thinking about how it was that Skeeter even knew about it. More to the point, why it was her writing about it, when he knew there were two other journalists also there.

'She had to be hidden,' he thought. 'Either that, or―'

Stopping, he looked to Hermione and asked, "Hermione. Animaguses―"

"Looking to become one?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "At least, not yet. No, I wanted to ask if a wizard or witch could only become a certain type of animal... say, a mammal, or something."

Surprised at the question, she replied, "I... actually don't know. Evidence to date states, 'Yes,' to the second part. All the animaguses we know or knew of were mammals. Professor McGonagall was a cat, Sirius is a dog, Pettigrew was a rat and your father was a stag.

"However, lack of evidence to the contrary does not mean proof of fact. Perhaps we should ask either Professor Flitwick or Biffingwater. I'm sure they'd have a much better idea.

"What made you ask?"

Harry slid his copy of the Prophet over and tapped the article. "Skeeter's up to her usual tricks. And, since I don't remember seeing her at the event at all, I think she must've either been under a hiding charm or invisibility cloak... or she's an animagus."

Hermione frowned in concentration and said, "I don't remember seeing any animals there."

"I saw a water beetle," he said. "Since it's not the season for them, I thought it might be one. Possibly even Skeeter."

"We'll ask," she nodded.

Later, they did just that, asked both Professors Flitwick and Biffingwater about limitations on just what sort of animal a person could take as an animagus. The result was that the only limits they believed to exist was that a person had to be a witch or wizard, have sufficient mental focus to both find their animagus form, put in the effort to achieve the feat, have the will to change into it and that it was believed it couldn't be a magical animal (though, that last was only a belief).

"So, a witch or wizard could have the animagus form of a water beetle?" asked Harry.

"Yes," shrugged both professors.

Harry immediately alerted Madam Bones to that and suggested to her he believed Skeeter might have the animagus form of a water beetle.

She said she'd take it under advisement.

Two weeks later, the Daily Prophet carried the story that Rita Skeeter, who's real name was Terri Teaske, was arrested for failing to register she was capable of attaining her animagus form nor that it was a water beetle. She received a substantial fine as penalty.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

The Unspeakables held off taking Dumbledore to and beyond the Third Task, as they wanted the true results of the Second Task at hand, just in case.

However, information garnered from the Task proved not to be needed, so they were ready to take the man past that time.

That led to that morning - or, truly, this morning. The day after the Second Task when they'd be stepping him through the Third Task. Dumbledore had actually been with them for almost five weeks. They'd planned for him to think he'd been with them for just over five months.

To keep things correct in the old man's mind, they'd been feeding him hair growth potion in his food, and also giving him haircuts. His once near buzz-cut hair on his head had been allowed to grow out to almost shoulder-length, while his multi-feet long beard had been trimmed back to barely touching his chest. Then they'd gone ahead and obliviated him of the knowledge of both happening. Added to it, they'd also had him change his robes and underwear on a couple of occasions, fading them each just a bit and backing the idea he'd been there for the five months they wanted him to think he'd been. And his hospital slippers had been scuffed up like mad to make it look like he'd been wearing them for the whole time.

As usual, he was brought into the interrogation room with his hands manacled behind his back and the large black bag over his head.

After the bag was removed, he was sat in the Truth Chair and the magics on the chair activated, Croaker appeared looking haggard. Though odd, it was not done by magic, but by cleverly applied make-up.

With a sigh, he said, "Good evening, Albus."

"Algernon?" asked Dumbledore. "Whatever is the matter?"

While Dumbledore appeared to be oozing care and consideration, it was not difficult to spot the excitement in the old man's posture. It was clear the old man was expecting something momentous to have occurred as a result of the Third Task.

"Long day," said Croaker.

"Yes?" pressed Dumbledore. "Did... something happen?"

"Tell me how you defeated Grindelwald, Albus," Croaker demanded. "Was it some esoteric magic you used?"

"Why is it important to you?" Dumbledore shot back.

Croaker frowned and said, "I'm asking the questions, Albus. How did you defeat Grindelwald?"

"That isn't important, Al―"

That was as far as he got before he was hit with the massive Legilimency attack.

This was all planned. They wanted him thinking about the Third Task, but lead him to thinking he had knowledge that could be used to bring down a dark lord.

And Dumbledore felt the excruciating pain of memories being ripped from his mind. With the multiple attacks, all coming at his memories from different directions, he had no chance of trying to stop them. He also had no chance of figuring out exactly what memories they were pulling form his mind.

As soon as the attack ended he only had a bare moment before he was stunned unconscious.

As he sat in the chair, slumped forward, Scimitar said, "He expects that Potter was kidnapped during the Task. He knows of a ritual that can give Riddle a body back and it requires the blood of an enemy."

"Hence, Potter," said Croaker.

"His memories also confirm that Grindelwald isn't dead," said another. "He's locked in the highest point of Grindelwald's own prison, Nurmengard on the Baltic coast of Poland. Dumbledore occasionally visits him, trying to redeem him."

"The ritual," said Croaker. "Does Dumbledore know what it is, exactly?"

"Yes," replied Scimitar. "However, I was unable to get that out of him in the few moments I had. He also believes it is what Riddle will use."

Croaker nodded and said, "Then we shall play on that."

"Wake him?" asked one of the Legilimencers when Croaker went quiet for a moment.

Croaker flicked his eyes to the man before he finally gave a single nod.

When the old man was enervated, he groaned for a moment before he finally looked up. Still with a massive headache he asked, "Was that really necessary, Algernon?"

"A reminder," said Croaker. "You were starting to be a 'bossy boots' again and needed the reminder you are not in control here."

Before Dumbledore could say another word, Croaker forged on and asked, "Now, again, tell me how you defeated Grindelwald."

"I'm sure you had that information pulled from my mind," replied Dumbledore. "And I still say it's of no consequence."

Croaker said, "How... did you... defeat... Grindelwald?"

The old man sighed and replied, "Simply put, power. I asked old Armando... Dippet... when he was Headmaster to install a power tap in the wards to feed me power so I could take Gellert on. That, together with the boost from Fawkes, was barely enough for me to defeat him."

"Why lock him up in Nurmengard?" asked Croaker. "Surely, you had to suspect the man would know of any escape tunnels or bolt holes in the place. Why not Azkaban?"

"I... thought it was fitting," replied Dumbledore.

"And, why didn't you have the power tap on Hogwarts removed, once you defeated the man?"

"It never occurred to me―" When his vision turned to a red haze, again, Dumbledore immediately and quickly said, "I thought I might need it again." And the red haze faded away again.

"So, you didn't employ any secret magics?"

"No."

"Did you use a... ritual?"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and he asked, "A ritual?"

"Yes, Albus. A ritual," replied Croaker. "Did you employ a ritual? You weren't a young man, Albus. You were in your sixties. Did you employ a ritual to give you back the strength of your younger self?"

"No," he replied. "I would not do such a thing."

"What about R- Grindelwald?" pressed Croaker.

The 'slip' was deliberate, as was the pressing for information on rituals. He wanted the old man to come to a conclusion of his own devise.

"I'm sure there are a few," replied Dumbledore. "Do you have an idea of any specific types of ritual? Perhaps I can help narrow it down for you, if you have some clues."

"Blood of an enemy?" asked Croaker.

Dumbledore froze in place. He stared back at Croaker with more intensity than he had on the first day he was in Unspeakable custody. "Do you believe such a ritual was used?" He asked.

"I'm asking the questions, remember," said Croaker, employing his own intensity. "What ritual do you know of that uses that specific component?"

Dumbledore stared back for a moment, even ignoring his headache and replied, "I do not know of one that Grindelwald would ever have used for himself."

"But you know of one," said Croaker. "Which one?"

Dumbledore shook his head and replied, "It's not germane to what―"

That's when the Legilimens attacked again.

Croaker allowed it to go on for about ten seconds before he flicked his finger for it to stop.

As Dumbledore sat slumped forward and gasping in pain, Croaker firmly said, "Why do you continually push me to the point where you piss me off, Albus? I remind you, over and over again, that you have no power here and, yet, you still push back.

"Has it slipped your feeble mind we've been here for months? Has it slipped your once great intellect we've been interrogating you and, later, obliviating you? I already have the answers to a lot of my questions, Albus. Some of the questions I'm asking you are only for the sake of clarification.

"So, once again, old man: I ask the questions; you answer them. I know damned well my boys and girls have not been removing those instructions from your mind. They're very well trained."

Croaker let that percolate through the old man's mind, but knew it would take a little while due to his headache.

Finally, he demanded, "Now, what is the purpose of the ritual that uses blood of the enemy?"

Dumbledore gasped for a few long moments more before, still with his head bowed, he replied, "It's for... a resurrection ritual. That's why... I know... Gellert never... used it.

"Resurrection, in what form?" demanded Croaker. "New born?"

"No," muttered Dumbledore. "It will... resurrect the one... who is the enemy of... Har- the one... whose blood is needed."

"Could the dark wizard known as Voldemort use it?"

"Yes..."

"How long have you known that?"

"Ahhh... I don't..." Red glow. "I-I think... two, maybe three, years."

"So," said Croaker, "You've known for two to three years of a way the one known as the Dark Lord Voldemort could be resurrected?"

"Nnn―" Red glow. "Yes!"

"And who did you tell?" demanded Croaker. "After all, if you found a way Voldemort could be resurrected, so could his minions."

"N-no one," gasped the old man. "T-tooo... dangerous."

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!" Croaker suddenly and shockingly roared.

The sheer volume had Dumbledore, whose head was still throbbing, physically cringe in agony. "P-pleeease don't shout."

"You deserve it, you self-serving, sanctimonious, old fool," Croaker growled right back. "Do you have any real idea of what you've done?"

Dumbledore didn't answer.

"The magical security of the realm is my responsibility; not yours," said Croaker. "It was your responsibility... your duty... to alert me to the problem, immediately. Your hubris may well have led to the downfall of our world.

"Do you understand what's going to happen now th- if Riddle comes back? Those moronic minions of his are going to break the International Statute of Secrecy. That Statute is not there to protect the muggles from us; it's there to protect us from the muggles!

"Those morons are going to go out into the muggle world with their heads full of hippogriff shit about how they're going to enslave the muggles. They think wizards are so much more powerful than them. Nothing could be further from the truth!

"Oh, they're going to have some measure of success for a little while. But, that's all it's going to be - a little while. And then the muggles are going to capture film footage of those stupid bastards in action.

"When that happens, within hours... hours, Dumbledore... they're all going to know. Communications in the muggle world have literally reached near instantaneous speeds.

"And there's billions of them, Dumbledore; billions! They're all going to know and the combined might of the armies of the world are going to begin to hunt.

"In Greater London, alone, there are almost seven million muggles. In the United Kingdom? Fifty five million. In other words, in the British Isles they outnumber us almost five hundred to one!"

"The British army currently numbers over two hundred thousand combat qualified soldiers. Add their police, aurors, into that and the number exceeds four hundred thousand. In other words, their trained ground combat troops outnumber our entire population, from the elderly right down to the infant, by three to one! They outnumber our trained combat personnel, by almost seven thousand to one.

"And that, Albus, does not take into consideration their marines, air force or navy. Their air force, alone, can drop bombs from fifty thousand feet up, well above where we have any hope of reaching them, and rain down bombs that they can aim to pass through the window of your bedroom before exploding with the force of over one thousand simultaneously cast Bombardas.

"In other words, Albus... we would be FUCKED!

"And, here's you, hoarding important information that, because you've been hoarding it, could mean the death of basically every witch and wizard in magical Britain, let alone the rest of the world, because you feel you're so fucking wonderful you cannot bring yourself to informing anyone? You truly are... insane!"

Croaker hadn't even realised he'd risen in his seat to yell at the old man until he stopped. Finally, he dropped back into his chair and said, "Now. Start talking. Hold nothing back. Because, if you don't... for the real greater good... my people are going to mind-rape you until your brains are leaking out your ears and you're nothing but a drooling vegetable.

"Then, finally, they're going to drag you down to the Death Chamber and throw your worthless carcass through the Veil.

"Nobody knows you're here, Dumbledore. Nobody; but six of my people and myself. As far as the rest of the magical world is concerned, you're an escaped criminal. Your vaunted reputation is gone. The legacy you wanted is gone. Your own brother only cares enough about you to rail against the Fates that made you his brother.

"You will go down as one of the worst dark lords our world has ever known. Even Grindelwald, Peabody and... yes... even Riddle won't be as hated...loathed...despised... as you will be. That is, of course, if there are any of us left alive to even remember you. I very much doubt the chance of that."

When he stopped, Croaker looked at Dumbledore. The old man hadn't moved, hadn't said a word back. He just sat there with his head bent forward. The only sign of life from the old man were the fat tears sliding down his nose and dripping off the end of it.

"Now, you stupid prick," demanded Croaker. "Tell me what you know about Riddle and the Third Task. Hold back even one skerrick of information and I'll Cruciatus curse your arse myself. I'm authorising myself to use it!"

That still wasn't the breaking point for Dumbledore. No, over the next almost seven hours they worked him over. They used Legilimency, the Cruciatus curse, verbally abused him, truly pummelled him in every way possible, magically, physically, psychologically. After hours of work they then dosed him with an advanced cocktail of calming potion, Veritaserum, a mild babbling potion and even muggle pharmaceuticals.

And, finally, he started to release the information he'd hoarded. He told them everything.

He even told them he knew he hadn't been there for five months, just from the growth of his fingernails. He'd deliberately chipped one, just to see if his fingernails were being trimmed without his knowledge.

That had really surprised the Unspeakables. They'd thought of hair growth, cleanliness of clothes, wear on his footwear, but not finger or toenails. That was added to their procedures for if they needed to do this in the future with someone else.

They then gave him two hours of rest, then worked him over again; dragging information out of him.

And they kept at it. They gave him just enough rest he had some sleep, but would have nowhere near enough before he was dragged out of his room and back to that interrogation room. And, yes, they also kept obliviating him of a lot of the knowledge he'd already given them. And about their knowledge of his 'trick' with the chipped fingernail. They trimmed them.

It did not take them long to learn or figure out that Bones was right. But, even then, she had little idea as to the depths of darkness to which Dumbledore had fallen. The old man truly was a Dark Lord; he was just better at hiding it than those who came before and after him. His whole Greater Good mindset was the same as that of his former lover, Grindelwald. The only difference was that Dumbledore wanted to accomplish it by working patiently from behind the scenes from within the shadows, while Grindelwald was more 'hands on' and less patient.

They worked him over in teams of three, hour after hour and for days, before they finally gave him rest. Eternal rest.

Finally, Croaker cast, "Avada Kedavra."

The disillusioned body of the man once known as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, whose real name was Albus Percival Dumbledore, was thrown through the Veil of Death about ten minutes later.

It was Croaker's decision not to inform Bones and the Minister of Dumbledore's death until after Riddle was dealt with for good.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ