I am so sorry it's taken me so long to update this story; I've been focusing on a new set of short stories, but it was my plan to upload an update the whole time. I'm hoping to upload more updates frequently. As usual, I don't own Harry Potter.

Please let me know what you think.


The Treasure Hunter.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, CASTING CURSES LIKE THAT?!" Dumbledore shouted as soon as he entered the room, followed by a small number of teachers including the four Heads of House and several others; for a moment Harry wondered why there were so many, but he guessed what he had been doing had startled Dumbledore enough to summon backup rather than go about this on his own. But he decided not to worry about it for now. He had Dumbledore here and he knew it would be a fight and a half right now.

"Oh my goodness," McGonagall whispered as she finally had the chance to speak, and she glared at Harry even though she didn't have a clue what he was doing, but he could see she was already making assumptions. "You're training in the Dark Arts, Potter!"

Harry internally sighed.

Once again McGonagall was making assumptions based on what she saw, and that was all she planned to see. Typical. The woman was not only incompetent she was willfully blind. Did she honestly think for one second he would use that spell and conduct a ritual without knowing what she was doing?

"Actually I'm not, but go on, keep on making assumptions based on what you don't know rather than actually bothering to investigate," Harry spared his Head of House with a glance before he dismissed her. It was mostly his own fault using this abandoned classroom in the first place instead of using the Chamber of Secrets, but he had chosen to conduct the ritual up here because he had wanted to be as close as he could be to the hospital wing in case something went wrong.

It was hard to reach the hospital wing when you were underground and you had to pass several of the safeguards put into place by Salazar Slytherin himself to keep his precious Chamber secure under the castle. But in this classroom, he could make his way easily to the hospital wing via the secret passages and get to the wing in a few minutes. Harry had known from the moment he planned to use this ritual any number of things could go wrong, and he had merely been thinking of his own safety.

But one of the biggest issues which had led to his decision was the fact he had a horcrux in his head. The horcrux he believed had granted his parseltongue abilities would be removed. How would he get out of the Chamber of Secrets? Harry had every intention of destroying Lord Voldemort and getting rid of the monster for good. He did not want to be trapped underground in a place inaccessible to anyone but parselmouths.

Harry took in all of the teachers - he wasn't surprised to find Snape looked absolutely terrible, but what worried and stunned him the most was Professor Moody looked ashen-faced, and he decided to get it out into the open. "I was conducting a ritual to summon all of the horcruxes Lord Voldemort had created for immortality," he said, stunning the teachers.

"How do you know of that?" Dumbledore gazed at Harry as if he could not decide if the boy in front of him was good or evil; while it annoyed him a little bit, Harry guessed he could understand and even sympathise with the old wizard's point of view since the last young wizard (as far as Harry knew) under his tutelage had gone insane just by studying and creating those things.

"What's a horcrux?" Professor Sprout asked before Harry could even reply to Dumbledore's question, while Professor Flitwick gasped and then closed his eyes in frustration. Harry guessed the small goblin charms master now recognised what it was that was happening and was angry he hadn't said a word about it. Harry didn't blame the little charms professor since he had only seen the aftermath of the ritual.

"Horcruxes are pieces of the soul, Professor. They're created through the use of a ritual induced murder; the more innocent the victim, in other words, a child, the stronger the ritual, and the purer the soul fragment. The Ancient Egyptians and the druids put out similar stories that splitting a soul would make someone immortal, but instead, the whole thing is a con. Horcruxes don't work, otherwise, the world would be full of immortal witches and wizards and they'd be more common," Harry answered the Herbology professor. It was a strategic thing to do really while he considered what to say to Dumbledore.

"A child?" Professor Babbling's beautiful and smooth dark skin looked grey in the face; Harry knew how the Rune's professor felt.

"Yes," Harry nodded solemnly, remembering that flash of green light and Voldemort's high pitched laugh as he'd murdered Lily, all of those years ago.

"And You-Know-Who created them?" Flitwick shook his head, with a thoughtful expression on his face that said how much he was actually thinking. "I should have realised he would have done something like that with all of his boastings of how immortal and how powerful he was; I merely assumed he had found a number of rituals and he had lost his sanity from those. But it explains so much, like how he managed to hold onto life all those years ago…"

"What, you knew about those things, Filius?" Dumbledore forgot Harry for a moment while he focused on this newest revelation.

"I do. But how do you know about them, Mr Potter?" Flitwick turned to face the young wizard who'd started this off.

"It's a long story, but to make a long story short I was always curious about how Voldemort survived the war and how that diary in second year worked. It took time, but I found out about them from a curse breaker manual I found. It contained enough information that answered many questions about Voldemort," Harry replied, having no real problem with giving a basic truth. "I was getting tired of the piece of Voldemort's soul rattling around in my head, burning me when he was nearby or sending visions into my mind. When I discovered what it was, I wanted it destroyed and be Harry Potter for the first time in a long time, not Harry Potter with a chunk of that son of a bitch in my head."

"Harry, limit your language," Dumbledore chided, but his face was pale as if he could not believe just how much knowledge he likely wanted to keep secret was actually easily found.

"Why should I?" Harry sneered back at the older wizard. "I think you've known about the horcruxes for years; I remember the way you held onto the diary I gave to you after I saved Ginny Weasley because she was so stupid to write in it even though people were being petrified; you wore a look of delight on your face as if you'd just been handed an answer to a timeless question."

"What? You knew, Albus, what that thing created?" Flitwick gaped up at the tall, thin figure of Dumbledore who looked uncomfortable with how many revelations were coming to light within a public setting. The very sight angered the half-goblin teacher, and he had no trouble letting his anger loose. "It's true, isn't it? You knew that thing had created those abominations, and you have done nothing when it's clear you suspected their existence! You know horcruxes are abominations against the laws of magic, and it's the duty of every witch and wizard who learn about their existence to destroy them. What if he came back and you were killed in the process; are you really that complacent to believe you're instantly invincible just because you are who you are?"

Chuckling with amusement despite the dangerous truth behind Flitwick's very well thought out and painfully sharp questions aimed right at Dumbledore's lack of common sense, Harry had to fight the urge to conjure a bucket of popcorn and sit back and watch the fireworks. It wasn't every day he saw someone really stick it to the arrogant old man. But what amused him the most was Flitwick had pointed out a fundamental flaw in Dumbledore's thought process. The old man was not a young man anymore, and his magic could only last so long before he gave out and died. If that had happened, all he had learnt about Voldemort would just die with him. Or someone could get lucky and kill Dumbledore. In either event, whatever plan Dumbledore had in mind would have gone up in flames. All of the critical information would be lost, thanks to Dumbledore's habit of keeping things to himself.

But Dumbledore seemed to think he was invulnerable and that nothing could happen to him. The sheer complacency of the old wizard was staggering. Harry's mind went back over what Flitwick had just said. But his mind twisted it into a different scenario thanks to what he knew of Dumbledore's complacent, one track attitude to problems. What if Voldemort had come back, and he found a way of getting into the castle? If that happened the lives of everyone in the castle would be in danger.

All because one old man thought he knew everything.

Harry decided to voice the rather sinister thought in mind. "Headmaster, did it ever once occur to you that your desire to be seen as the saviour, the one who knew everything, the great caped crusader, you were putting everyone in danger?"

Dumbledore and the rest of his teachers turned to face him in disbelief. They had clearly not expected his question or they had forgotten his presence in the room. But the question had stunned them.

"You've known Voldemort was alive for a long time. Have you ever considered your secrets and your plans could have been turned over on their head because Voldemort could have found a way into the castle?" Harry raised an eyebrow. His expression darkened and he fixed Dumbledore with a pointed look, revealing the extent of his disdain and disgust for Dumbledore.

The old wizard was staggered by the hatred there, and he stumbled back, staring at him with wide eyes.

Harry let out a sigh. "You could have signed the death warrants of everyone in the castle with your arrogance, Professor, you took the law into your own hands when you came up with a stupid scheme to see Voldemort's end rather than give it to more competent witches and wizards. You decided to take it on yourself, passing the whole damn task onto me."

"Harry, this is not the time-," Dumbledore tried to say, but Harry didn't see the point in hiding the truth anymore.

"I know about the prophecy, you craven hearted moron. My mother wrote diaries," Harry's eyes spat fire as he glared angrily at Dumbledore, "did you really think she would keep something like a prophecy hidden from me!?"

Dumbledore staggered back in surprise. "Y-you know about the prophecy?" He whispered hoarsely while everyone in the room looked stunned, although Harry noted McGonagall look terrified as well. He realised the aged bitch had known the whole time, and she had gone along with the plan to keep everything under wraps.

"I do. As I said, mum wrote it down along with a number of questions about your sanity for believing in something like a prophecy as an answer for everything; mum never believed the future was pre-determined, but shaped according to our actions and choices, and I happen to agree with her and not some quack who spins some stupid poem out of the ether, but it's been fulfilled. That means whatever plans you had in mind for me need not apply anymore. I don't care what you do in the magical world anymore, Headmaster, just so long as I stay out of it," Harry felt his conditions were fair enough.

"What was the prophecy, Mr Potter?" Professor Babbling asked as she calmed down and she hoped to get the full story. It was clear she was unimpressed by Dumbledore's secrets as he was.

Harry could see Dumbledore had no intention of answering the question. Too bad for him that Harry had no such problem.

"It's a long story, Professor Babbling," Harry said to the Ancient Runes teacher, sending a look of contempt towards Dumbledore before he carried on, "a long time ago, the headmaster and his little band of vigilante heroes were losing the war against Voldemort and his forces; it was mostly down to their softly-softly approach. So many people died needlessly because this old fool thought he was Napoleon Bonaparte. A great French military general who waged a campaign of war for a few decades in the 18th century," Harry explained briefly when he caught the looks of confusion on the faces of some of the audience.

"A year before I was born, Dumbledore heard of a prophecy where Voldemort would make me as my equal. When he attacked us and killed my parents, he left me with the scar. That's where the horcrux went in. Now, most people with common sense would have tried to find a solution, but that would have been too difficult for your plans, wouldn't it?" Harry tilted his head as he stared at Dumbledore, who glared back at him.

"Kindly refrain from addressing me in that manner, Harry. There was nothing I could have done about the horcrux in your scar-."

"It didn't occur to you there might be others who might know," Harry corrected with a dark glare full of contempt. "What was your master plan, let that thing in my scar fester inside and then parade me to Voldemort so he'd kill me?"

The look of surprise on Dumbledore's face showed just how near the mark Harry was.

"You bastard. Don't tell me, let me guess. This was all a part of your master plan. Your 'Greater Good?'" Harry sneered.

"Yes, it was," Dumbledore didn't see the point of concealing all of this now since it was out in the open anyway, and besides he realised he would have to explain himself to a very angry young wizard. "It was impossible to fight Voldemort, Harry. He was winning the war. Many were dying all the time, but when he attacked you, I saw an opportunity to finally end the violence and insanity."

"Ah, the ends justify the means. That's what you're saying, right?" Harry nodded solemnly while he prepared to unleash the next volley where it would hurt.

"Sometimes it is important for sacrifices to be made."

Dumbledore had just walked into it.

Harry stared at him solemnly, the face of a kid who had been at the forefront of one of Dumbledore's sacrifice schemes. "Have you ever once thought none of those sacrifices needed to be made if you hadn't interfered and let them make up their own decisions instead?"

Dumbledore reared back in surprise. The other teachers weren't much different.

Harry just stared at him solemnly. "I don't interfere in the affairs of others unless the situation calls for it, Professor. I have learnt over the years people can make their own decisions without a caretaker holding their hands. Don't get me wrong, I know you think you're guiding people, but everyone has the right to decide, to choose, and to grow. It's the challenge of life that helps people to grow and to learn. You don't do that. You manipulate and interfere with people's lives, guiding them in school is one thing, but you are holding everyone back. You came up with a plan to end Voldemort - don't get me wrong, I understand your position even if I think you could have stopped Tom Riddle from his path in the first place, and I can understand your decisions, just as I can understand your belief that one life to save many.

"But what I am so frustrated and annoyed about is the fact you not even bothered to research horcruxes and asked for help. You have several magical races who have knowledge far ahead of yours when it comes to magic, and yet you didn't do that. The smartest thing you could have done was to take your theory of Voldemort's use of horcruxes to the Unspeakables. From what I understand, they deal with the obscure, the mythical, the legendary of magical artefacts and knowledge. A horcrux is probably a wet dream to them," Harry ignored the reactions to his description for them, "but that would have been too much for you, Mr I-Know-Everything, right?"

That was too much for McGonagall, who had been standing there horrified as Harry Potter methodically tore down the image of Albus Dumbledore while the man himself was there. "That is more than enough, Mr Potter-!"

"No, Minerva. He's right," Professor Sprout interrupted surprisingly. "While I do agree some of Albus's plans were likely made with the best intentions, the fact remains he didn't bother asking for any kind of aid that would help him devise a better plan, something I've noticed more than once over the years," she added with a pointed stare at Dumbledore.

"The goblins of Gringotts would have been more than prepared and pleased to help, given how many treasures have been destroyed over the centuries by the idiots who believed they knew what they were dealing with," Flitwick added, sending an appraising look over at Harry, "but Lily knew about them?"

Harry nodded. "She did. My mother, God rest her soul, performed a magical scan of Voldemort's body during one of her encounters with him. She had several theories of how he had attained….immortality," his sneer of derision made it very clear to everyone what he thought about Voldemort's method, "and she made preparations to try to conduct the ritual. She didn't believe in the prophecy, and she didn't want me to have to pick up the pieces because everyone else was lazy. Unfortunately, mum's attempts at finding one of the horcruxes failed because Voldemort had covered his tracks too well, and she couldn't find anything about him. But she wrote down diaries, and she made it easy for me to find them and make use of them. Believe me, it was good getting information about my parents without having the information go through the filters and embargo placed on them," he added with a pointed glare towards Dumbledore.

Babbling stared at Dumbledore in surprise. "You….hid information about his parents? An orphan who wanted to know about them, and you hid it? Why?"

"That's something I want to know as well. What gives you the right to place embargoes? The plan for You-Know-Who's death had nothing to do with Mr Potter's parents, so why bother?" Flitwick demanded.

Dumbledore knew he was being backed into a corner, and he did not like it. Not one little bit. "I was afraid the knowledge would make him go dark-."

"You're lying," Harry sneered. "Nobody could go dark if they learn about their parents who were murdered. Tell us what the real reason is."

"It's complicated-."

"Of course it is," leave it to Dumbledore to come up with an excuse like that, "do you actually think through your plans, or do you just go through them? Why hasn't Snape said anything?"

"What?" Thrown off by Harry's offhand question everyone turned to the dour Potions Master, and they found him - and surprisingly Professor Moody lying on the ground, half passed out and their faces were so pale and gaunt it was a wonder they were still breathing.

Instantly the teachers rushed to their colleagues, wands out and they scanned the bodies magically when something unexpected happened. Moody let out a terrible gurgling gasp and he collapsed to the ground, and his skin bubbled as his features changed. The chunk of his nose became filled with flesh and skin, and all of the scars he had received during his long life as an auror vanished leaving behind the face of a man with a haunted face.

"Barty Crouch Junior?" McGonagall whispered. "How is this possible? He's dead!"

"More to the point how can he be in the castle, surely he couldn't have gotten in without you knowing about it?" Sprout turned disbelieving eyes towards Dumbledore as she looked down at the body with something akin to hurt rage.

Dumbledore's expression was as if he had seen a ghost, but Sprout's question made him swing around and turn to Harry. "Explain this!"

Harry didn't bother acting innocent. "When the ritual was cast, it summoned all of Voldemort's soul, and since magic comes from the soul it's linked to the magic of the Death Eaters. Mum discovered if somebody creates horcruxes, and gains followers and somehow marks them with their magic, they are vulnerable too. The Death Eaters were pushing some of their magic into Voldemort's body, and it could explain why he survived as a wraith…"

"So you knew this would happen?"

"I did."

"Do you know what you've done?" Dumbledore was incandescent with rage. "You've signed the death warrants of many people!"

"Why should I be bothered, Headmaster? The Death Eaters massacred hundreds of people while you and the Ministry allowed them to get off scot-free. You can't deny that you, Fudge, and Bagnold stupidly believed that lie about them being under Voldemort's control, and you allowed them to gain positions of power. When Voldemort returned, do you really think they'd bat an eyelid to murder and torture again? They are terrorists, not school students playing games," Harry wasn't going to let Dumbledore play things like that and he wasn't going to let the old wizard go on and on about forgiveness and his weird ideas of how war should be waged. "Am I sorry the Death Eaters are gone? No. Do I feel sorry for them? Again, no. Lucius Malfoy threatened to kill me at the end of second year, and I promised him if he made threats to me again I would make him regret it. Two years later, I've kept my word."

"What do you mean he threatened you?" Flitwick hissed angrily.

"It's a long story," Harry knew it would take forever to tell the whole story of that mess of a year, but right now he wanted to know more about Crouch. "But who is he?" He gestured towards Crouch. "I take it you're not happy to see him?"

"No, certainly not!" Sprout growled. "Barty Crouch Junior is, as I'm sure you've gathered, was the son of Barty Crouch. He was in my house, and he was a great student before I learnt he was a Death Eater."

No wonder she was so angry at the sight of the man. "You were surprised to see him again, why?"

"You can thank Karkaroff for that," Flitwick ran a hand across his face wearily. "Karkaroff was a Death Eater himself, and at the end of the war he sold his former colleagues out to save his own neck-."

"He wanted to make amends," Dumbledore could not resist poking his nose into the matter. The looks of derision on the faces of some of the teachers showed what they really thought on the matter, a reality their boss just refused to accept.

"No, he didn't and you know it, Albus," Flitwick was more than ready and willing to argue his point. "Karkaroff was nothing more than a coward. He became excited at the prospect of becoming a Death Eater, but once he found out what it was like, he realised he made a mistake. He sold out his colleagues to save his neck. Why do you think he was quick to leave the country and teach at Durmstrang? He knew the former Death Eaters would try to kill him, but when he went abroad he discovered just how much Europe has learnt from its mistakes from the Grindelwald war. The moment he applied as headmaster of Dumstrang, he had to take dozens of oaths to not promote or secretly raise an army due to a Dark Lord's propaganda. He was allowed to teach his knowledge, but that's as far as it goes. In any case, he is under constant watch by the authorities in Bulgaria so he doesn't push his oaths too far."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I have heard Durmstrang teaches the dark arts. Why would they demand oaths like that?" Harry asked politely.

"It's no problem, Mr Potter. The reason is the magical world was brought close to its knees by the last two Dark Lords; Grindelwald nearly came close to conquering the magical world while You Know Who wanted to shatter the Statute of Secrecy. Bulgaria and certain countries may allow the teaching of the dark arts, but they are unwilling to allow that knowledge to endanger our way of life," Professor Flitwick said in his usual cheery manner when addressing a student, but there was a dark solemn shadow in his voice considering the matter at hand.

"I see, so they are willing to teach the knowledge but they refuse to allow them to destroy our world?"

"Yes, Mr Potter. Right now," Flitwick turned solemnly to his colleagues, "I think we need to question Crouch about his presence in the castle."