Hidden Tales From The Chamber Of Secrets - 36 - An End to the Manipulation
by Polydicta
The now obligatory selection of plot-bunnies, orphaned scenes, omakes and idiocy that sometimes bring my mind to a grinding halt. Ongoing warnings for smut, language, character death, bashing, torture, mutilation and reader brain-damage. Brain bleach recommended.
Disclaimer:
All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.
There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.
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Hidden Tales From The Chamber Of Secrets - 36 - An End to the Manipulation
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A/N: Some stories featuring a dark, conniving and meddlesome Dumbledore leave me feeling pretty cheesed off, so I thought that I'd produce the cure ...
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Albus Dumbledore sat pondering all that he had achieved, and in particular all that he had achieved in connection with his weapon. As he pondered he sucked contentedly on one of his special, un-potioned lemon drops.
True, he had all but drained the Potter vaults, but the weapon wouldn't need the cash since he would die at the hands of The Nemesis. All for the greater good, of course.
He had managed to get the boy potioned to the gills in order to get the Weasel chit pregnant ... the Potter properties would be a nice addition to Albus' portfolio. He had managed to convince the brat that the only way to defeat The Nemesis was to die taking the so-called Lord Voldemort down.
Albus chuckled at that. Lord Voldemort ... what a laugh, a completely controlled necromantic construct based around a revenant that Albus himself had created ... and controlled. Yes, his plans, decades in the making, were finally coming together. Once his weapon was dead, proving that the, and here he chuckled, the prophesy was complete and that the Potter boy was unable to take down the so-called Dark Lord, Albus would step in and finish the job.
He found himself chuckling at that.
As the defeater of two dark lords, he would hold an unassailable position in the minds and hearts of Wizarding Britain, and this time he would accept the position of Minister of Magic, or maybe Emperor of Magical Britain.
He was giggling and chortling by now.
He calmed himself and popped another lemon drop into this mouth, and considered how he would change the face of the magical world ... all for The Greater Good, of course.
He went over the whole thing again, laughing uproriously as he did so, telling his enslaved Phoenix his plans and chewing his way through his lemon drops.
He was feeling tired from all the laughing. He calmed down somewhat, occasionally chuckling to himself and decided to have a nightcap before retiring for the night.
He sat and poured a large snifter of Brandy, one of the century old reserve taken from the Potters' place in Godric's Hollow. As he sipped the brandy, he became quite comfortably relaxed, all the tension in his muscles draining from him as the warming alcohol entered his system. In fact he felt quite ... helplessly ... relaxed ... He felt something touch his ear.
For the life of him, he couldn't raise the strength to brush it away.
It entered his right ear-canal and a voice whispered in his left, "you have been a naughty, naughty wizard, Albus."
Albus felt a thrill of fear. He tried to turn his head, to rise, to find his wand, but ... he hadn't the strength.
The voice continued, "we laced your lemon drops when we discovered the enslavement bonds on Fawkes. Of course, you won't remember a thing in a few minutes, Albus."
From the corner of his paralysed eye he could see a very familiar mop of unruly, black hair.
"Harry? But why?"
"We know everything, Albus ... the two puppet Dark Lords, the plot to rule Magical Britain and then Europe ... your use of Nicolas Flamel's stone to keep yourself alive and unaging. The Goblins know, and have restored the contents of my vaults. Ginny, can take the pillow from up her jumper. She was quite upset with you, Albus.
"Of course, Nicolas was the one to brew the potion for your dreadful sweets. He is a Master Alchemist, after all, and you are but an amateur - talented but an amateur all the same."
"But they are ..."
"Elixir of life, Albus. Not Balm, Potion, Posset or anything so ordinary, an Elixir. One dose is quite permanent. Nicolas and Perenelle are quite alive and well, and are looking forward to your ... punishment."
"What ... ?"
"Oh, that's quite simple. Have you ever read Gulliver's Travels, Albus? The Struldbrugs?"
Albus paled, all sense of pleasure at his plans and dreams now gone. He lost control of his bladder, his right hand began to shake, a tremor he had never experienced before.
"Yes, Albus, immortal, unendingly infirm and mentally incompetent. Your body is already severely weakened by Nicolas' potion - his gift in repayment for your theft of the stone, triggered by the brandy. My brandy, Albus ... and now I will give you my gift..."
The last coherent thought that passed through Albus Dumbledore's mind was, 'oh shiiiii ... "
And then he heard the words cacoblivium horribilum, and he knew no more but his eternal now.