HPWW431-440

Chapter 431

Neville thought about it and asked, "If you only

earned... what... five points for the First Task, won't

that put you so far back you'll have little chance of

winning?"

Harry smirked even more and said, "You forget,

Neville. It is not my intent to win the damned thing."

"Language," muttered Hermione.

Harry thought it was a vast improvement, as she both

didn't stridently exclaim it, or tell him off even further

for it. So, he let her get away with it.

"I don't know why they marked you so low, anyway,"

said Neville. "You completed the First Task as per the

rules. As you said, there was no time limit or any other

limit, when it comes to that, other than completing the

Task by collecting that gold egg. You did that."

"Because I told them to only award me one point

each," he replied. "I wanted it perfectly clear I had no

intention of winning and I really didn't want to even be

there."

"So, the Third Task is a hedge maze," said Hermione,

trying to get the discussion back on track.

"Yes," said Harry. "They'll be putting in a whole range

of dangerous creatures, as well; which are there to

test the ingenuity and skills of the champions while

they try to find the Cup."

"So, you need to practice combat casting," she said.

"Which you've been doing with the Colourball charms

and Stinging hexes training we've been doing."

He grinned at her with that 'I know something you

don't know' expression she'd come to know.

With a sigh, she asked, "What am I missing?"

"The only rules for the Third Task are that I must enter

the maze and then find the Cup. That's it," he replied.

"Now, think about it."

Both other teens couldn't figure it out. And weren't

happy when he wouldn't tell them what he'd already

figured out for himself.

He said, "If, by then, you haven't already figured it out

for yourselves, I'll tell you what you're missing before

the Third Task starts."

"Can you at least give us a hint?" begged Neville.

Harry thought about it for few moments before he

said, "The rules state I must enter the maze. They do

not state I must stay in the maze until one of us finds

the Cup."

"You intend to walk in and walk back out again?"

asked Hermione.

Harry chuckled and replied, "No. But, you have your

clue."

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

The day of the Second Task dawned with slightly

overcast skies. Harry had no problem with that, as it

meant there'd be minimal glare off the water as he was

summoning his broom.

The previous late afternoon, both 'visiting' schools

representatives returned to Hogwarts in readiness of

the event. However, instead of the approximate two

dozen students from each school, they only returned

with seven each. Plus, instead of arriving in a flying

horse carriage and a recovered sunken tri-masted

galleon, they arrived by way of portkey via the

Ministry of Magic International Portkey Station; and

then appeared in the middle of the entrance hall of the

castle in each group five minutes apart.

Again, both schools sat in their own groups, together

at Ravenclaw for the Beauxbatons and at Slytherin for

the Durmstrangs; for both the evening meal the night

before and breakfast that morning.

Harry was not surprised when, that same evening,

Professor Babbling came to him and asked him to

hand over his Firebolt. Then informed him it would be

that 'which he'd miss the most' for the Task the next

day.

'As if I didn't already know,' he thought.

At 9.00am the four champions were escorted out of

the Great Hall by Karkaroff, Maxime, Deputy

Headmaster Goodstone and Marchbanks. Again, Harry

offered his arm to the good Lady Headmistress, which

she again gladly accepted.

Yet again, Harry was surrounded by aurors; but, this

time, they also encompassed the whole party.

As they slowly made their way down to the edge of the

lake - where had been set up a large set of tribune

seating, plus a judges table sitting on a small stage

that extended out into the water - Harry quietly asked

Marchbanks, "Why decide to take the walk? As

Headmistress you could always either apparate or

create your own portkey to take you there."

She smiled back and said, "Perhaps I enjoy the walk,

Lord Potter."

With his own smile he said, "Perhaps you forgot you

could do that, Headmistress."

That got a laugh out of her.

"No, dear boy," she said. "At my age, any chance I get

to take a walk on a nice, clear day... especially in the

company of one so charming... I'm going to take."

"Flatterer," he quietly accused.

That earned him another laugh. But, also with one of

those light taps on his arm that he now recognised as

showing she was pleased with him.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

As the four waited on the stage that also acted as a

jetty of sorts and the judges took their seats at the

table, the students and other guests, streaming in

through the gates, were walking down to take seats in

the tribunes.

As the time of the start of the Task approached,

9.30am, Bagman walked over to them and had them

gather around.

"All set, are you, Champions?" he asked, also looking

at Harry.

"What're you looking at me for?" he asked, right back.

"I'm the unwilling entrant, remember? Ask them." And

gestured to the other three.

Bagman allowed his expression to show slight

irritation before he decided to ignore Harry and asked

the others, "All set, are we? Have your plans on how

you're going to undertake the challenge, prepared?"

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Chapter 432

As the other three acknowledged him and replied they

did, Harry just backed off a little.

Again, Bagman appeared annoyed by the attitude

Harry was displaying.

"Alright," he said, a little louder. "Good luck, Chaerr... all." Then turned away and practically stomped

back to the judges table.

From what Harry could observe before he stomped

off, he'd asked them similar.

Meanwhile, Diggory asked him, "And what's your plan,

Harry?"

When Harry turned back it was to see the other three

all removing their outer robes and showing clothing

made for swimming underneath.

He gave a little snort of amusement.

"Well, I'm not getting in the water, that's for sure," he

replied.

Confused, Diggory asked, "Then how do you plan on

completing the Task?"

"I'm a wizard, Cedric," he replied. "I think I'll complete

it by being a wizard. Whoever came up with the

idea―"

Just then he was cut off by Bagman casting a

Sonorus and making the introductory

announcements. While he did so, Diggory sighed and

returned to the other two.

Once everyone was ready and the Task and rules for it

made public, Bagman let off a Cannonblast charm

signifying the start of the event.

Everyone was watching Harry by then, as he did not

disrobe like the others.

Once the other three dived in, after casting initial

charms upon themselves, Harry just shook his head

as all three disappeared under water.

He gave it a moment before he turned about and

looked back at the stands. Of course, by then all eyes

were focussed on him.

Drawing his wand he cast his own Sonorus and said,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, once again I find myself

witnessing just how quickly witches and wizards can

demonstrate how daft and moronic they can be.

"What you have come to witness; or, rather, what the

organisers of this event planned for you to come and

witness; was for three Champions to dive into the lake

and go and rescue hostages. That is, rescue people

from an enchanted sleep being guarded over by an

underwater village of merfolk.

"Now, because the organisers of this event didn't

think it through, they did not arrange for viewing

screens or similar to be erected so you can see what

was happening underwater. Instead, their whole plan

was for you to sit in those seats, watch three people

enter the water and then... nothing. Nothing, that is,

until almost an hour later, where you got to stare at

nothing much more than the lake, until those same

three people popped their heads up from under the

water and bring three others back to the shore.

"Wow! How absolutely riveting entertainment that

would have been for you... Not!

"So, to make up for that... let's say... less than

entertaining spectacle, let's do something where you

can actually see it happen.

"You see, I consider myself a wizard. So, instead of

being like a muggle and going and getting my broom -

my 'what I'll miss the most' - I'll think like a wizard,

instead.

"It's February, for Merlin's sake! If I can get out of

going into the water, just to appease some idiot who

couldn't think things through, I'm going to take it.

Cancelling the Sonorus, Harry could hear laughter

coming from the stands. However, Bagman was

looking at him as if he'd just kicked his pet crup to

death.

Turning to face the water, he cast, "Accio my

Firebolt!"

The immediate attempt by his wand to shot forward

out of his hand was all he needed to know the charm

was working.

With his left foot braced forward and now having to

hold onto his wand with both hands, Harry pulled

back... hard... while also pumping a lot of magic into

the continued charm. Summoning the broom from the

pool in the Come and Go Room wasn't this hard.

However, he had nowhere near the distance or depth

to overcome, either. (1)

After a good five seconds, people were starting to

snicker. By the ten second mark, there were even a

few catcalls.

However, when the broom suddenly shot out of the

water about thirty feet away and shot straight at him,

there were gasps. Because of the pull, when the

broom cleared the water the resistance to the charm

dramatically tapered right off. It almost caused him to

fall back onto his arse.

However, his reflexes were also even faster than they

were before. He was able to both stop himself from

falling over and catch the broom as it was about to

pass over his head.

Staggering from the transferred energy of the impetus

of the broom into his arm, Harry was still able to hold

onto it without allowing it to slip through his fingers or

pull him off his feet.

That's when he heard the exclamations and gasps of

surprise and shock from the audience.

Once he was centred and balanced on both feet and

not in danger of falling over, he stripped the remains

of a thin but snapped rope off the foot pegs - clearly,

whatever was stopping it from simply floating to the

surface was tied to the broom by the rope. Then he

gave it a quick once-over by eye before walking over

to the judges' table with it.

The expressions on the faces of the judges almost

had him laughing right in their faces.

Bagman, sitting on the end was blushing in

embarrassment; as was the new Director of

International Magical Cooperation, Hamilton Snodway.

But where Bagman was looking at him in embarrassed

irritation, Snodway was trying everything to not look

at him. Marchbanks was cackling away in clear

amusement. Karkaroff was scowling and also not

looking at him. And Maxime just gave him a wry look

and a small sad smile.

Quietly, but firmly, he said to them all, "The Task was

that I recover my 'what I'd miss the most' from the

bottom of the lake; not that I enter the water. I believe I

have completed my Task. Please remember to award

me no more than one point each."

"Of course, Lord Potter!" laughed Marchbanks.

Without another word but a slight head bob and smile

to Marchbanks, he turned around and walked back out

onto the stage.

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Chapter 433

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 onehanded 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.

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Chapter 434

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.

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Chapter 435

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."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------

Chapter 436

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.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------

Chapter 437

"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, "Uhhuh!" 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.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------

Chapter 438

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.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------

Chapter 439

"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 mindrape 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.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------

Chapter 440

The next Thursday, Riddle reread the almost week old

copy of the Daily Prophet covering the Second Task

he had managed to get his hands on and was still

quite surprised at the Potter boy's way of dealing with

the Task.

'A summoning charm?' he thought. 'Over what sort of

range?'

As he sat there in his tiny body, he again tried to

figure it out. 'It had to be at least a third of a mile and

through water, at that. The boy clearly has plenty of

power.'

Thinking things through he decided it was time to

bring in his 'third in command', Malfoy. The man may

be as slippery as an eel, but he could get the job done.

MacNair was proving to be adequate, but could also

fail. Lucius didn't when it was needed.

"Wormtail!" he shrilly bellowed.

When the dumpy and dirty little man came in, all

obsequiousness as was proper, Riddle said, "Contact

Lucius. Same security as when you contacted

MacNair. I want him here at seven hours past noon in

three night's time. Now, get me my potion. This body,

yet again, needs nourishment."

"Yes, Master," Pettigrew was quick to bow, before

hurriedly backing out of the room.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

On the Friday after the Second Task, Harry was

summoned up to the Headmistress's office for directly

after lunch. She asked him to come alone and gave

her word he would not be harmed in any way.

Harry did so, but also had Dobby follow him in secret

and while hidden. If any active magics were employed

against Harry, Dobby was to immediately get him out

of there; no hesitation. While he trusted Marchbanks,

he did not trust that she would be free of any magical

compulsion.

Already told the password, which hadn't changed

from 'Step aside, please', Harry barely broke stride

from walking along the corridor to stepping onto the

steps winding up to the Headmistress's door.

He paused only a few moments outside her door at

the top of the stairs to make sure he was presentable

before he knocked on the door.

Immediately, he heard, "Come!" And opened the door.

Without stepping within, he checked to see who else

was in the room before entering himself. There was

only Headmistress Lady Marchbanks and a gentleman

wearing a dark blue hooded robe, who had just turned

to face him. However, he couldn't make out the

man's... if it was a man's... face.

Harry hadn't even realised he'd had his wand in his

hand until he raised it and pointed it directly at the

other, disguised, person.

The Headmistress said, "Lord Potter, there is no need

for that."

"Lady Marchbanks," he said, ignoring the implied

order. "What was it you first said to me when I was

escorting you down to the Second Task?"

She smiled back and said, "You asked why I chose to

walk instead of apparate or portkey. I told you it was

because it was a beautiful day and I did not get many

chances to walk outside, especially with one so

charming as yourself."

Harry nodded, "And I called you a flatterer."

She chuckled.

"And why does this... person mask their appearance?"

he demanded.

"He is an Unspeakable," replied Marchbanks. "What

he wears, together with the masking charms, is

normal for one such as he."

"Uh-huh," said Harry. "I've never met one."

"If you'll allow me to remove my hood," said the

Unspeakable, "It may help to alleviate your concerns."

Harry gave a single nod back.

Carefully, so as not to cause Harry to 'cast first and

ask questions later', the Unspeakable slowly doffed

the hood. When he did, Harry saw it was a man with a

short cut hairstyle, goatee, a facial structure that

screamed he was of Italian descent, though he was

actually of Israeli descent, and piercing light blue

eyes.

Harry gave a slow nod and said, "Alll-right. Now, who

are you?"

"Lord Potter, I am Saul Croaker. I'm the Director of the

Department of Mysteries. We need to talk.

"But, first; do you mind if I draw my wand and make

an oath?"

Harry slowly shook his head once, but didn't lower his

wand.

Carefully and deliberately, Croaker drew his wand and

gave oath. "I, the Unspeakable known generally as

'Croaker', do swear on my magics I mean no harm to

Lord Harrison James Potter, his betrothed, his

Concubine Bonded, any member of the PotterLongbottom Alliance, his godfather, Lord Sirius Black

or Remus Lupin. As I say, so I swear, so let it be

written."

Then Harry saw the tell-tale flash of magic that

showed the oath had been accepted by magic. Only

then did he lower his wand, resheathing it a moment

later.

"Sorry," he muttered, walking closer.

Croaker chuckled and replied, "Do not ever apologise

for what you just did, Lord Potter. You did not accept

at face value that Griselda, here, was who she

purported herself to be and asked what were clearly

security questions someone under a glamour or

Polyjuice would not typically know the answers to.

"In your robes I'd probably do the same. I'm just more

skilled enough at magic I do not need such."

Harry nodded back and looked to Marchbanks. "I take

it I'm here because Mister Croaker wants a word?"

As Marchbanks grinned, but before she could

respond, Croaker chuckled and said, "Not Mister

Croaker... just Croaker. Saul is my first name, though;

even though Dumbledore used to call me Algernon."

Harry frowned back and asked, "Why'd he do that?"

Croaker grinned, gave a small shrug and replied, "I

may have intimated Algernon was my given name.

Dumbledore had this very bad habit of addressing

folks by their first name, but demanding he be

addressed by his title or titles."

Harry gave a snort and said, "Yes. I figured out why,

back in my first year. By addressing you by your first

name, while demanding he be addressed by his titles,

he was alluding to how much more important he was

compared to you. It was one of his subtle tricks to

show dominance over you."

Croaker chuckled and replied, "That's exactly why he

did it, yes. It's also why I may have told him my first

name was Algernon."

Marchbanks cut in and said, "Now that you two are

done with the 'meet and greet', it's time for me to get

out of your hair." Turning to Croaker, she said, "Saul,

when you're done, please send me a messenger

Patronus to let me know. I'll let you see yourself out."

Croaker gave her a nod and smile. "Of course, Gris."

As the old witch began to rise, Harry hurried forward

to help her stand and make sure she was on her feet.

As soon was she was up and with her cane in hand,

she gently tapped him on his cheek with the pads of

her fingers and said, "So chivalrous; but I can see to

things from here, Lord Potter. Thank you."