Harry and the Magic Factory

Chapter 21

A/N: I received an interesting review asking that I "fix" my story so that it meets the neat symmetry of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (a.k.a., Charlie is slated to inherit the factory from Willy Wonka after not screwing up any of the challenges that sent the other prospectives packing). Of course, the reviewer neglected to remember the utterly bizarre sequel to the first Charlie book (Charlie in space in the glass elevator, battling monsters, and the like). Consider the current direction of this story as the bizarre second act to the fun and formulaic first part. The Chosen were originally selected as part of a major publicity stunt to start revealing the Potter Estate to the rest of the wizarding world, but the Apprentices will be important to the overall story arc, but who knows if I will be able to continue it that far out to bring them back into the main plot. Besides, I think they provide some interesting and fun comedic relief from time to time. I am actually enjoying beating up on Dumbledore, Fudge, and all the others now. I hope you all enjoy! (Sorry for the cliffhanger in this chapter, too!)

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Harry cocked his head. "I will call you Mister Dumbledore for now, sir, and you will call me Mister Potter. You will answer a few of my questions and perhaps we can sort out whatever ulterior motive kept urging you to contact me." He was beginning to drop his earlier, disinterested persona. He had enough information to know full well that Dumbledore had done all of the crimes ascribed to him – but now Harry also realized that Dumbledore didn't consider a single one of them as a crime.

"Harry…"

"No, it's Mister Potter. I let you get away with it before, but there is nothing familiar between us."

Dumbledore sighed. The he inclined his head just the smallest bit. Harry knew the man was almost dying of curiosity. What question would he ask first – what did he really want to know above all else?

Harry took his seat once more. This would either be a long conversation – or a very short one. Harry did want to take the full measure of this man Dumbledore, and either reaction would tell Harry some very valuable things.

"My parents left some notes about a prophecy of some sort. What can you tell me about that?"

Dumbledore seemed to turn red underneath all his white hair. He'd obviously not been expecting this kind of a question at all.

"I… I, uh, don't know that I can say anything… about that prophecy. I don't know that it's been carried out or invalidated. I just can't."

One demerit for Dumbledore, then. Dumbledore knew he hadn't revealed it to the Potters, just told them to go into hiding. So the old man was trying to figure out how they'd learned anything about it at all. Plus, the one man was dodging questions poorly and obviously.

"Alright. I also read in my mother's journals that your Order seemed to have a leak inside it, but no one knew who it was. What can you tell me of your efforts then to find him or her? I imagine this person had a hand in my parents' death…"

Dumbledore spluttered some more. He obviously wasn't used to be called to account for his actions. "Again, that is privileged information, Harry…"

"Mr. Potter."

"…so I cannot tell you anything about it. I do wonder if I might be able to see your mother's journals at some point, though, she was a very clever witch…"

"Who you or someone inside your group betrayed to her death. No, I think not."

Now Dumbledore seemed like he'd been slapped.

"I have been back to the remains of my parents' safe house at Godric's Hollow. It was completely destroyed. But, my mother's journal indicated she used a secrecy spell called the Fidelius Charm to protect it. What do you know of that?"

Dumbledore seemed to relax a bit. Apparently, this was a safe question.

"Yes, Harry, yes, that was my idea. I found it in an old book. Security through obscurity. Breaking it would have required finding and destroying a series of hidden rune stones, stones that are hidden inside the protected property. It seemed the best idea at the time…"

Harry nodded. He knew all that. It was actually his follow-on question he really wanted answered.

"I am curious, though, Mr. Dumbledore, why my mother or father couldn't have held the secret. They were the ones protected by the Charm. Why couldn't they have held it?"

"Well…" Dumbledore was back to bravado and spluttering again. "I don't know why they picked Sirius as their Secret Keeper…"

Harry shook his head. "Wrong, Mr. Dumbledore. You led the discussion as to who should be the Secret Keeper. Sirius suggested Lily should set the Charm and James should be the Secret Keeper. Her notes suggested that you vetoed the idea, claiming it had something to do with the magic of the Fidelius. Ridiculous, of course. A person can serve as his own Secret Keeper, in truth. Then you suggested that Remus not be considered, as he was a 'Dark creature,' and that the Black family traditions could sprout up again inside Sirius. That left one of their close friends. The one you secretly suspected Voldemort of controlling…"

Dumbledore was shaking in his seat now.

"No. No, I didn't know anything about Peter."

"Didn't want to know. Or didn't want to acknowledge. But you took a very safe, if underpowered spell, and turned it into a death trap for me and my parents. So, I'll ask again. What did you know about the prophecy? Were you trying to ensure it got enacted in a way you'd planned out?"

Dumbledore sat as mute as a doorpost.

"Because I know you're a Legilimens. You could have cracked the mental defenses of anyone you suspected of treachery – or otherwise tested those who had strong Occlumency defenses. You had to know about Peter Pettigrew. You had to know encouraging my parents to trust him with the Secret would be equivalent to killing them yourself…"

"You think you know a lot, Harry," Dumbledore said, finally coming out of his mental torpor. "I don't know who's been filling your mind with these twistings of the truth, but I assure you…"

"What do you know of my parents' wills? Their plans for me…"

"Well, they'd asked me to provide a safe home for you. Once your parents asked me, I had thought to place you with your mother's sister, a Petunia Dursley…"

"Who hated everything about magic. 'A jealous, bitter shrew of a woman who has more lung capacity for yelling than common sense.' Again, my mother kept journals. And I have an original copy of their will. It doesn't sound anything like what you're describing, Mr. Dumbledore. They definitely didn't attempt to impose on you by asking you to see to my care. And they definitely specified that nonmagical folks, especially my 'Aunt' Petunia, were to have nothing to do with my care. I wonder if you're familiar with the forger Petelain Fortescue. She did a lot of work for Death Eaters in her day, and apparently did quite a bit of forging for you as well, Mr. Dumbledore. She did remember creating a short document and forging the signatures of James and Lily Potter. You, of course, as witness, signed it yourself…"

"Now see here, I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. I will not have baseless accusations of crimes bandied about…"

"Mr. Dumbledore, I have the pensieve memory of her forging the document. And of you signing it in her presence. And of you paying her one hundred seventy galleons for her services. And of her creating many more wills, Diggory, Wood, and two dozen other families, you know."

The room fell silent for a moment or two. "Have you been reading so many Merlin stories you just couldn't help yourself, trying to create a new kind of Arthur? Placing someone important into a hateful home environment, testing a child with abuse of every kind…seeing if he'll crumble or work through the pain and agony? It's not right, your gamesmanship, not at all."

"You sent thirty-one orphaned children to America so that you could better control them. You wanted to mold their mind, control their assets, and influence their choices to your own benefit. You think you're going to have a good long life, and sit behind the stage and pull the strings of everyone prancing around on it. Kind, benevolent, wise, generous. These are the words you've convinced people to use when describing you and your actions. But very few know the real you, Dumbledore. And for good reason."

Harry could tell that Dumbledore was trying to work up a new plan to deal with Harry. He had stopped fidgeting in his seat. He was all about his mental concentration now.

"The real Dumbledore… Where to start? Perhaps your actions toward a young child named Tom Riddle. Abandoned in a muggle orphanage, but clearly down in the Hogwarts register. Why did the Headmaster of the time permit it? You were his deputy even then, why not transfer the boy to a magical home, arrange for an adoption? Why did you and the others keep sending him back? Why did no one cotton on to his darker obsessions, his links to the line of Salazar Slytherin and his opening of the Chamber of Secrets in his fifth year? You even cast a vote to make him Hogwarts Head Boy. And then you just watched from the shadows as the confused, angry, powerful young man ventured out into the world and was fully seduced and mutated by the Darkness. Think people would like that Dumbledore? Or, how about the warrior Dumbledore who obliviated the memories of the four other people who participated in the final battle against Grindelwald in the 1940s? Leaving you the sole title as his destroyer…. Good for one's career, I'd imagine. Or how about the judicial Dumbledore? In your work with the Wizengamot, you allowed seventeen persons to be sent to Azkaban without trials, six of whom were innocent of their crimes."

The old man's lips moved up and down. He wanted to deny it. To deny everything. But he couldn't. Every word of it was true and Dumbledore had been bombarding by accusations so rapidly he couldn't latch onto a place to begin to refute the truth.

"It's not true," Dumbledore said, his voice not even mustering the timbre to sound genuine or truly indignant.

"Excuse me, Mister Dumbledore, but you're not even trying." Harry's voice was colder than it had been in a very long time. The betrayer of his parents, the manipulator of destinies. He deserved everything he would be receiving in the very near future.

"I do have two gifts to offer you…"

Harry handed over the freshly printed copy of a book. He'd been working on it for much of his life and had only written the closing pages in the last few weeks.

Dumbledore mutely took the book, but he did gasp when he saw the title. "The Rise and Fall of Tom Riddle, Once Known as the Dark Lord Voldemort. He's dead then?" Dumbledore sounded a bit relieved. At least one revelation had been a positive one.

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore opened the book and flipped to the table of contents. "Early Life…Accidental Magic, Cruel Magic…Coming to Hogwarts…A Half-Blood in Slytherin House…A Secret Life with Parseltongue and a Famous Ancestor…Horace Slughorn and Tom Riddle…The Chamber of Secret Opens and the Wrong Man is Accused…'He Was the Perfect Student'…Evaluating Armando Dippet's Blindness…Killing Off His Father and His Family…The Young Borgin and Burkes Clerk…Early Thoughts of Immortality…My Merlin." Dumbledore looked up. "You can't publish something like this. It's like a recipe to become a Dark Lord. Even the chapter headings are making me queasy…"

"Keep reading," Harry said.

"The Collector of Rare Objects…The Darkest Magics…International Travels and Intrigues…An Education in Dark Curses through History…The Rise of the Pureblood Agenda in Britain…Albus Dumbledore's Impotence…You can't write that."

"Keep. Reading."

"The Birth of the Death Eaters…Terror in the Night…The Battle at Cowl's Saddle…The Order of the Phoenix Responds…The Massacre of Pepridge-Upon-Avon…The Ministry of Magic Infiltrated…Sybil Trelawney's Prophecy…Further Crimes Against Humanity…A Brief History of the Potters and Longbottoms…The Duplicity of Dumbledore…Families in Hiding…The Slaughter at Hogsmeade…The Betrayal of the Light by Peter Pettigrew…The Death Eaters Versus the Prewitt Twins…Voldemort's Final Battle…The Years of Tom Riddle's Spirit Form…The Capture of the Death Eaters…Revelations at the Death Eater Trials…Corruption Spreads Inside the British Ministry of Magic…The Hunt for Tom Riddle's Cursed Objects…The Dark Magics Reversed…The Fall of Tom Riddle…Epilogue."

"That's it. That's the whole truth as we know it now. Future historians may uncover more, but that is what we know at this time. From Riddle's papers and his own magical journal, from the Death Eaters themselves, from the spies we've had monitoring you and yours, Dumbledore, and our sources inside the Ministry. The book is well vetted and hits the magical bookstores later this afternoon…"

Dumbledore jerked out of his seat as if he had an urgent appointment.

"Sit."

Dumbledore glared with unrestrained hatred. He had plans within plans already cooking inside his head now. He had an enemy to beat: Harry.

But Dumbledore sat back down again. He was waiting for the rest of the disclosures. With a thick, hate-filled voice, he said, "That was but one gift, Mr. Potter. You said you had two."

Harry nodded. He then produced a large satchel which he pushed toward Dumbledore.

"I thought, since you originally generated much of this paperwork, you should have a copy for your records…"

Dumbledore ripped open the satchel and began pawing through it. It took him nearly a minute before he recognized what he was holding.

"How did you? These were stored at the base in America that the Order established. And these are copies, where are the originals?"

Dumbledore knew he was in a lot of trouble. The book could be discounted, explained away as the work of a lunatic. But goblin records couldn't be forged, it was part of their magic. They could be copied but not altered.

Dumbledore rifled through the satchel. The records were very complete. But why had they stopped so long ago. Dumbledore had distinct recollections of receiving his annual updated, with proper figures in them.

"How?"

"I think the question you want answered is: why did the withdrawals stop?"

Dumbledore nodded for a moment, then stopped himself. He was giving away entirely too much, admitting to far too much. This boy couldn't survive this meeting with his memory intact.

"I'll let you stew on that, Mr. Dumbledore."

"If you think this way of me, why ever did you agree to meet with me?"

"I had to be sure," Harry said. "I'm leaving it to your people to judge you. But before I let all the evidence into the public domain, I wanted to be very sure. And, thanks to your further lies – which weren't even very good – I have all the peace of mind that I needed."

Dumbledore finally rose out of his stupor.

"Contrary to your words, it sounds exactly like you intend to be my judge and jury. You intend to fix all the world's problems? To rule the world absolutely… You know what they say about absolute power, my boy."

Harry suppressed a smile. This was a very common tactic. Accuse the other party of the things you yourself have done. Dumbledore really was working from an old playbook.

"I have no interest in ruling anything beyond what my family started. I'm an accidental leader for my family and my people. I'd prefer to run no governments, veto no laws, sit in no judgment of criminals when they ask for my pardon. I simply want to be in a safe position to tell the truth to the world and to set up a powerful counterbalance to the excesses in this world. The muggles will keep the wizards on their toes, for sure. Good things will come of it – good and bad, but all things come paired like that, I think. I am but a young man hoping for a safer, more stable world. I want no more wars in my lifetime, although that is overly optimistic to expect. I want no more Light Lords or Dark Lords in my lifetime. I want no one setting themselves up as the ultimate savior. I do not proclaim myself anything but a young man with one simple idea: tell the truth to the muggles in a safe way and it will do both worlds an enormous good. I enjoy tinkering with potions and pranks and spells; I like football, Quidditch, and swimming; I have a number of friends and a few very close ones; I have Sirius and Remus and the ghosts of my parents to help and advise me. I am a normal person struggling with an oversized gift, I will make mistakes, correctable I hope, but I will never – unlike you, Dumbledore – rationalize everything away or shine a false light on what I'm doing. I will do dangerous things, even things commonly thought illegal. I will completely shatter the International Statute of Secrecy; I will destroy muggle artifacts, namely weapons, by the millions…"

Dumbledore was back to aping out-of-water fish.

"I suggest for your sake, Dumbledore, that you leave your manipulations behind. Announce your retirement from Hogwarts and the Wizengamot today, before the torrent of news and honesty overwhelms you like peasants storming the Bastille. Or not, it's freely your choice, old man. Exit with limited grace. Or get thrown out the door." Harry decided to add in the final kickers. "By the way, your phoenix has finally abandoned you. And Fawkes has brought your Philosopher's Stone to us so it can be destroyed. People shouldn't live past their normal life spans."

Dumbledore was still processing all of this disaster.

"The children need me…"

"You need that school and the prestige it lends you far more than the students need whatever small amount of benefit you provide. I have no honest idea why you have such a reputation in the wizarding world; it's certainly unearned. You're a menace to orphans and your ideas about education are rooted in medieval times."

Dumbledore looked up with sad eyes. He rapidly pulled his wand from his holster and leveled it at Harry.

"Imperio!"