Disclaimer: JK Rowling did everything you recognize except the name of the screaming book and what it contains.

And now…

Chapter 20 - The Terrible Truth

Hours after Albus had finished the mirror, he lay in his bed unable to sleep. He wondered if the watch would have collected enough evidence, but he didn't want to view it without Elijah Huntington – he felt he owed the auror that much. Albus had not slept well the last few nights, but that was not what was keeping him awake this time. It was the words he'd heard from the specter, if that's what it was. Had Lorelei found a way to send him a message from beyond the grave, or was it something that had been eating at him all of this time that he didn't consciously realize?

Elijah had asked the right question – that could only refer to his inquiries as to what George had been going to show Albus and Nicholas, and the suggestion that Grindelwald thought that they had known where it, or something else, was. George Ellison had found something very important, and perhaps it was much more important than the man even realized. But then, it cannot have been Elijah who had actually asked that question. By that point, he had already been under the control of Adam Fullerton. Did that void the question, or simply prove that it was important?

Albus began to go over the scene at the warehouse once more in his mind. He even thought about pulling himself from his bed and using the pensieve to explore it more thoroughly; though truth be told, he didn't want to revisit that horrific scene if he could avoid it. The warehouse was large and anything could have been hidden there. Certainly, Grindelwald and his supporters would know to look for traces of magic concealment. But more importantly, why would George have hidden anything within the warehouse, when it was within the domain of Grindelwald himself?

The whole situation left more questions than answers. Albus had wondered for months what had been in that warehouse that George had wanted them to see. He had also wondered why Grindelwald had chosen a London warehouse as a point to do anything. With the ability to apparate, Grindelwald and his supporters could have worked together anywhere. Why would he choose a warehouse near the Thames in the heart of muggle London, where muggles could easily have stumbled across his operations? But then Albus suddenly wondered if that was the point.

Struck with the most appalling notion, Albus scrambled out of bed, threw on his dressing gown and headed down the corridor, guided only by the light of his wand. He did not encounter anyone in his trek through the halls other than Peeves, who knew better than to pull his pranks on Albus, though the poltergeist did try to engage him in a few ridiculous jokes, which, in ordinary circumstances, Albus might have enjoyed; but he was not in the mood for funny stories.

Once inside the silent library, he made his way directly to restricted section. He had not expected to find someone there, but he did. Tom Riddle sat, reading a very large book on advanced dark magic. The sight brought him to a halt.

"Tom!" Albus voiced his surprise.

Tom looked up at him bleary eyed and yawned. "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," he said, as if his presence there were perfectly natural. As always, the boy's mind was completely closed to him, and offered no hint as to whether his activities were something to be concerned with. "Perhaps we both have late reading habits," he added flippantly.

"You should not be out of your dormitory so late, Tom," Albus responded sternly. "As head boy, you have an obligation to set a good example for the other students."

"Quite right, Sir," Tom replied, suddenly respectful. "I'm afraid I found myself unable to sleep. I have been working on a report for Professor Merrythought that is presenting a bit of a challenge. I suddenly could not remember a piece of information I had read and failed to document in my notes. I came here imagining that I'd find it quickly, only to so far reread half the book and still not find what I'm looking for. I know it's hardly an excuse…" For a half second, Albus again thought he read something in the younger man's behaviors, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and Albus didn't know if he was imagining things.

"Well, hurry back to bed, Tom. It can wait until morning. You know that I must take some points away from Slytherin, but I believe five should suffice."

Tom returned his book to the shelf and headed back to his dormitory with only a nod, leaving Albus extremely worried about what he'd witnessed. He ultimately decided that Grindelwald was the more pressing issue, however, and reached for an old black and silver volume on the bottom shelf. The title was written in Sumerian was simply Gaz Anbut he knew it to mean "Slaughter Skies". He quickly did a silencing charm, knowing that the book would scream otherwise, and opened it toward the center.

Albus made his way to a table and sat to absorb the text, performing an elaborate spell that translated the text for him; he was too tired to translate himself. It was there he remained for the next hour, absorbing ancient rituals in which evil wizards of the past had found horrifying uses for muggles, including one wizard who found a brew to strengthen his own life force by absorbing the essence of each, much in the way a dementor might suck the soul from an individual when it performed its deadly "kiss". But the worst came in an ancient story of mind control. The wizard in question, a man called only Utu. had become unbelievably strong in a very short period of time by forcing a subordinate to paint rune symbols using the blood of a dying non-magic human on an altar kept in a "twice blessed room", while Utu sat above and channeled the energy. He was able to maintain mind control spells over great distances afterward. The story was so old that there was some disagreement among wizard historians with regard to its accuracy – some thought it was little more than a tale meant to frighten children. Albus might have been one of those skeptics, had the text not gone into such great detail about the importance of making a squib do the actual painting. For two years, Albus had been trying to see a reason that Grindelwald might be interested in Arabella. Now the horrible possibility left him nauseated.

Albus tried to imagine Arabella assisting with such a terrifying ritual, but he simply couldn't. He knew, however, that a discrepancy existed between her experience with Grindelwald's mind control and Elijah's – Elijah remembered everything he had done or been asked to do. Arabella, however, was missing more than a year of her life.

Albus began to wonder if there had been another squib before Arabella that Grindelwald might have kept company with, but if there was one, it was not known within Britain. Certainly the magical world didn't keep track of squibs the way they should; such was the conceit of the average wizard. Squibs represented an interesting conflict of facts. They did not possess enough magic to be considered wizards, and yet they saw things that muggles could not. A muggle would not see Hogwarts as any more than a broken down ruin, while Arabella had been able to see the castle in all its splendor. A muggle could not see a dementor at all, but any squib could see enough to be frightened. Muggles did not register within the magic sensing devices the Ministry used to track potential muggle-born students; squibs did, though their essence would simply show as a pale spot on a map, rather than the dark red mark that the Ministry usually noted when each wizard was born.

Albus practically flew back to his office. He hurriedly grabbed his pensieve bowl and a handful of floo powder. He did not even take the time to change into day clothing or brush his hair. He also never thought to wonder what Perenelle and Nicholas would think of his dead of night appearance, until he had already stated their address into the tickling green flames.

He spun to a halt in the kitchen grate at the Flamel Residence. Albus suddenly realized that he might have to wake the house in order to ask the burning questions that he simply couldn't put off. He stepped out of the fire and crossed the otherwise dark kitchen, only to find another soul awake in the predawn hours – Lolly. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder why she had not attended the memorial.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she squeaked, surprised. "I is not expecting you. No, no, no."

"I did not forewarn of my visit," he stated. Then, deciding it best to ask directly those questions that he was tormented by, he added, "Lolly, why have I not seen you since we sent Arabella to Aberforth?"

"House elves is not to be seen, sir," she replied. "We is to be doing our tasks. Miss Lory ordered me to take care of Miss Bella and I's seen to it."

"What other orders did Lorelei give you, Lolly?" he asked, crouching so the tiny elf need not continue to stare up at him so.

Lolly looked hesitant. "Elves keeps their family's secrets, sir," she replied finally.

"Yes, Lolly, but Lorelei is gone now and she may have directed you to keep something secret that is preventing me from stopping the man who killed her," Albus explained more sternly than he'd meant to.

"Miss Lory did not give many orders to Lolly, sir. I is supposed to protect and care for Miss Bella, and to come to you if there is danger. I is also supposed to see you and Hagrid as family."

Albus was touched and saddened by the gesture he'd never known Lorelei had made. "Has Arabella ever given you an order?" he pressed.

"Yes," Lolly replied, her large eyes pleading for him not to ask more.

"Are you sure that all orders she gave you were given of her own free will?" he asked.

Now Lolly stared open-mouthed. "Lolly is not sure what sir means by that."

Albus had managed to lower himself to where their eyes were at the same level. "Lolly, Arabella was under mind-control for more than a year of her life. Did she, during that time, give you any orders which seem questionable to you now? And please, don't tell me a house elf is not supposed to question, because at this point you must. Arabella's life may depend on it."

Lolly bit her lip, seeming to struggle with something. Finally she nodded, though only slightly. "Miss Bella says I's not to tell anyone about her clothes and I's to help her clean them. But I is unable to get out stains and had to throw them away."

Albus ignored the obvious fact that Lolly had handled clothing, something that house elves usually never were assigned to do because it could mean they were inadvertently freed. "Was it blood that was staining the clothing, Lolly?" he questioned, as gently as he could.

It seemed impossible that Lolly's eyes could get any larger, but they did. She seemed unable to blink and very frightened. She finally nodded again, so slightly that it was almost indistinguishable. "But not just as I's been able to wash blood stains from other things. They's magic blood stains."

He considered this for a moment. "How many times did this take place?"

"Six," Lolly answered.

He sighed heavily, sad to know his worst fears were probably true, but grateful that Grindelwald had taken the time to erase Arabella's memory completely. "Lolly, this is helpful to me, but will never be helpful to Arabella. Since she doesn't know, can you refrain from ever mentioning it to her? I will try to shield her from this as best I can. Perhaps when grief over her sister is not so strong, Arabella will be prepared to learn the truth. For now I believe it can do nothing but destroy her. Now I must discuss this with Nicholas and Perenelle. Otherwise, we will keep this between us. And Lolly, thank you. You did the right thing tonight."

Albus stood, uncertain how he was going to talk this over with Nicholas, but certain that it was the last thing Lorelei would have wanted her sister to know about herself. It was not like Arabella helped willingly, and yet he knew that guilt would destroy the girl forever if she learned the truth.

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