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This chapter: Dumbledore tells all while dosed with Veritaserum.

Posted Jun 28, 2012.

-CHAPTER 16-

THE OLD MAN'S CONFESSION

December 18, 2000
Canadian Ministry of Magic, Toronto ON

The trial of Albus Dumbledore had been a lengthy affair—though not as lengthy as some Muggle trials could be. Testimony from the defence had concluded the day before, with the court adjourning while the twenty-member panel debated the verdict. There had been a great number of witnesses called, most of them by the prosecution, or the protector, as the ICW deemed the side working as such.

The defender, too, presented witnesses, although not as many. Most of them were character witnesses, and when truly pressed by the protector, their testimony was in many cases shredded into tiny pieces. Jason thanked everything holy Sandra was on his side. The woman was truly frightening when she got up a head of steam.

Her ferocious methods of questioning had already resulted in charges against several other individuals, including the English Minister of Magic, and his toad-like undersecretary. That had resulted in the English Wizengamot expelling the dumpy wizard from office on December 10th, for, even though the man had not yet faced the international court, it would look bad if he were allowed to remain. Names were already being floated around on a successor, including one Amelia Bones, the current head of DMLE.

It was clear the international community had grown tired of the cancer that festered within the English Wizarding community, and were taking steps to correct it... whether Britain wanted it or not. After all, two of the most dangerous dark wizards in modern history had been spawned there, and in the case of one, evidence could place blame directly at the feet of one man: Albus Dumbledore.

"All rise," The Auror waiting at a side door in the court room announced, as the door opened.

Everyone stood as the large panel of international jurors filed in, and took their seats on the raised benches. Finally, the overseeing judge, a short, pudgy wizard from Brazil, entered the room, and stepped up into his box, slightly raised from the rest of the benches. He sat down.

"Please be seated."

There was a rustle of fabric as everyone took their seats.

"This has been a most disturbing enquiry, I do have to admit. Liberties have been taken, rights were ignored, lives were destroyed, in the interest of what?"

The judge looked about ready to pinch the bridge of his nose, much like Jason had seen Snape do so many times.

"The accused will rise."

Dumbledore rose, along with the defender assigned to him, and the two assistants.

The judge continued, "Upon the weighing of the evidence presented to this international court, the panel finds the accused, Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore, guilty of all the charges filed against him. Before we continue, I would like Mr. Black to present his thoughts, before we pass sentence."

"Sir?" Jason arched an eyebrow.

"In the Muggle system, the victims are allowed to give some sort of statement before the accused is sentenced," Sandra explained.

"Oh." Jason stood up. "Judge Santos. I think... I think I would like to ask the accused a few questions. Would it be possible if he were first given Veritaserum?"

"Objection!" the defender shouted, "That is grossly-"

"Within the bounds and purview of the court," answered the Judge, with a nod, "I'll allow it. Aurors..."

It was no struggle really, although Dumbledore did seem to put up a bit of resistance, as he was forced into the witness chair, then stunned. The Auror wore a nasty smirk as he did so. The aged wizard's mouth was forced open, searched for any sort of hidden pill or caplet which might negate the potion's effects (two were found, along with a poison caplet), and three drops of the clear liquid were then allowed to drop onto his tongue. He was then revived.

Dumbledore sat there a moment, and they could see by the way his jaw was shifting around, he was searching his mouth cavity for the hidden contraband.

A smirking Auror questioned, "Looking for these?"

The look on the old man's face was priceless. Still, the old wizard did his best to fight the powerful truth serum, but it was no use. The seconds ticked by, and he slowly lost the battle, his body relaxing as the serum took hold.

Finally, the Auror gave a nod, declaring, "He's all yours, Mr. Black."

The defender made to protest again, but a withering glance from Judge Santos silenced him.

"Thank you, Auror," said Jason, with a slight incline of the head.

He come around the table, to face the witness chair.

"Professor. Ex-professor, I should now say, I guess. Up until four years ago... even right after all that happened, Sirius' death... I still respected you. I thought of you like a grandfather. You were someone I could put hope in, someone who would be there for me when no one else was."

Jason took off his glasses, and set them on the table, then returned to where he'd been standing.

"I guess the best thing to do is start at the beginning. More like, way back at the beginning. Long before me. See, Tom Riddle and I had a chat in the Chamber of Secrets, before I destroyed that little diary of his. He told me at length about his home situation, and I couldn't help but notice how similar it was to mine. I guess then the first question. When you met Tom Marvolo Riddle, why did you leave him in such a deplorable environment where he was hated?"

"At first, I believed that was still the best place for him," answered Dumbledore, calmly.

"And later, when he came to you, and later to Professor Dippet, begging and pleading that he be allowed to remain at Hogwarts?"

"Harry, you have to understand, with the chamber being opened all those years ago-"

"The Chamber of Secrets, you mean," Jason clarified, to which Dumbledore answered, "Yes, the Chamber of Secrets. The circumstances at the time prevented us from making any sort of arrangement for him. Professor Dippet, naturally, did suggest he be looked after by a Wizarding family—The Prewitts were certainly a candidate, but I did remind him Riddle was a Slytherin, and the family might not look out for the boy."

"Sabotaged his thinking, you mean."

"Yes," answered Dumbledore, although he hadn't wanted to.

"Did you know, the first time you met Tom, how dangerous he was?"

"Yes. I was able to get into his thoughts, see his memories," answered Dumbledore, "The boy could already control his magic at eleven and a half years old. He already carried a healthy dose of resentment for those around him, and a lack of respect for those in authority. Even then, at that first meeting, I saw he had grandiose thoughts of making the world pay for his hurt."

"Why then, did you permit the abuses to continue?"

"I saw also, a powerful young wizard," answered Dumbledore, calmly, "One who, if moulded just so, could influence great change in our world."

"Well, congratulations. You certainly got that," Jason scoffed, "Instead of doing what was right, you allowed him to fester and grow into the terrible man he became. I think, that is what you truly wanted... you wanted another adversary to defeat, to add one more great accolade to your hat, trophy room, or whatever it might be. Isn't that true?"

Dumbledore truly fought against it. He finally clamped a hand over his mouth as to prevent him from answering.

Jason gave another nasty smirk.

"Auror, he appears to have trouble answering the question."

The Auror had no trouble fixing the problem, and both Dumbledore's arms were bound in the chair by heavy chains.

"Again. Is it true that you wanted another adversary in Tom Marvolo Riddle?" Jason asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered, defeated.

Naturally, the gallery had seen his reaction to the question the first time, so the bombshell wasn't quite as large, but nonetheless, it had an impact.

"So by all accounts, you sired the dark lord Voldemort. I hope you're proud of yourself," said Jason, his features darkening, "Let us then move on."

He went back to the protector's table, picking up another page of parchment. He knew he was to have this opportunity, after all, and his reaction to the judge calling on him had been an act.

"Let's go back to the night you hired Sybill Trelawney to teach Divination. Did you know there was a spy from Voldemort's side listening in?"

"I was nearly certain of it," answered Dumbledore, "I knew Severus Snape had taken the Dark Mark not long before."

"So he listened in, and caught part of the prophecy. Why did you let him?"

"I knew if word got back to Tom, he would have to act. It all unfolded better than I could have hoped for."

"You wished for my parents to die?"

"Yes. It was unfortunate, but all for the greater good."

Jason felt white-hot anger lick the inside of him once more—he so wanted to curse the man in front of him right now. He stepped back, and inhaled several deep breaths to get himself back under control. Last thing he needed to do was blow up the court room in a fit of rage. Naturally, the reaction of the gallery was one to remember as well, with the sharp intake of breath from a number of people... including a certain snarky potions master. If the look he was giving right then could kill, the old man would be dead many times over.

"When... when you realized it had came to pass... what was the first thing you did?"

"I travelled to Gringotts," answered Dumbledore, "I knew I had little time to act before certain things took effect, namely the release of the Potter will. I used my authority as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to have it sealed away indefinitely. It could not be executed if my plan was to work."

"Yes, your plans on top of plans, Dumbledore," Jason snarled, "You have so many plans on the go it seems. Let's keep to this one. Why did my parents' will scare you so much?"

"It listed specific individuals you should have been left with, beginning with your godfather, Sirius Black."

"But that's not all of it, am I right? No, there was another clause just below those recommendations. Tell me, Dumbledore, what did it say?" Jason was already picking up another piece of parchment from the table.

"You were not to be left with the Dursleys-"

"And I quote, 'Even if they are the last Muggles left on Earth', according to my late mother," Jason scowled, "You, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, have directly and wilfully violated a magical contract. I still wonder how you managed to keep your magic—and Fawkes, come to think of it."

At that exact moment, the bird in mention arrived in his traditional blaze of golden flames. He fluttered down to rest on Jason's shoulder.

"Good to see you, my friend."

The bird seemed to assess his former bonded, and let out a long, mournful call.

"A very curious question indeed, Mr. Black," said judge Santos, glancing at a page of parchment before him, "Dumbledore has indeed signed the will as a witness, most certainly qualifying him as a participant. He is equally named as the executor."

"Ah," Jason said, another chilling smirk crossing his face, "Now I understand."

Mace actually shivered from his place behind the defender's table. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn't good.

"Jason?" Sandra too, looked worried.

Jason smiled back, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"I know the answer, see. As the executor, he simply told himself he would actually execute the contents of the will—eventually. It was a little lie, see."

Jason smirked again.

"Albus Dumbledore. As the executor of my parents' will, did you ever have intentions of following through with their instructions?"

Once again the powerful wizard fought against the equally powerful truth serum... and once again, he lost.

"No, I did not."

A terrible shriek followed, along with the sound of shattering glass, as a blaze of purple energy surged out of the elderly wizard. Fawkes let out an indignant squawk, and fluttered off to land on Mace's shoulder, momentarily startling him—he was watching the extraordinary display in the middle of the court room after all. A thick tendril of the energy burrowed itself inside of Jason, while the rest of it—the bulk of it, dissipated into the atmosphere. Jason looked dazed by it, and tottered over to the table, where the lead protector and Sandra helped him into a seat.

"Well then," said judge Santos, seeming to be equally startled by what had just happened, "A short recess, while we sort this out. I assume, you are far from finished, Mr. Black?"

"N-no, s-s-sir," Jason stuttered, feeling the strange magic going haywire in his own body.

He sat there, heaving, still not quite understanding what was going on.

"The magic judged him in violation, Jason," Hermione explained, from her spot on the bench directly behind them, "You were the direct victim."

"So he... he took some of Dumbledore's magic," Mace guessed.

"Some of it. Most of it simply dissipated back into nature, but, yes, some of it, as a sort of reparation."

"Merlin... some? Head's still swimming," Jason breathed, his heart still racing, "S-s-so that's what happens when someone breaks a magical contract."

Mace only shook his head.

"Holy fuck, Jason. Don't ever let me get on your bad side." He thought for a moment. "So Dumbledore's got no magic left at all now."

"None. If he's in contempt of the magic again, it'll take his life next time," said Sandra, "I hope that's not what you have in mind, Jason." She cast a worried look toward her client.

"No. D-d-death would be too easy for him. I want him to experience what I experienced. The company of Dementors isn't a pleasant thing... possibly something much worse than death," Jason answered, as he poured himself a glass of water.

He glanced over to the witness chair, where Dumbledore, still chained to it, was getting seen to by a pair of healers. They were casting a barrage of spells at the aged former wizard, likely to determine exactly what sort of damage had been done.

"Mr. Black, are you all right?"

Another healer had come over to check.

"F-fine, sir. Just... a little rattled, I think. Just need a minute or so."

"Good then, very good." The healer was off to assist the other two.

"Jason. Look at me."

Jason turned and faced his partner, and their lips met. It was a little awkward, considering where Fawkes had chosen to rest at the moment, but they made it work either way, and broke apart after a few seconds. Jason felt instantly better from the intimacy.

"Better?"

"Much," Jason smirked, getting up. He drew his wand. "Lumos," he whispered, and instantly had to shut his eyes, as the light bloomed from the end of it.

"Uh... right then. Nox."

He put his wand away, smirking, and gave a nod to the Auror standing at the side door.

Under a minute later, judge Santos was back at his seat.

"If we are ready to resume-"

"I must again protest," said the defender, "Isn't it enough Mr. Black has virtually reduced my client to a squib as it is?"

"The victim has the right, counsellor, to address his aggressor before sentence is passed. This is the way of our court for nearly three centuries, I need not remind you."

The judge gave a nod to the Auror on the floor, who again administered three drops of Veritaserum to the elderly man.

The potion having taken effect, Jason was again allowed the floor.

"I won't delve into too many details with my next set of questions, since asking too many of them here may actually cause you to forfeit your life... and quite honestly, that would be too easy. So I'll keep this set of questions simple. You naturally knew already, Sirius Black was my godfather. I think I know the answer to this one, but I'll ask it anyway. Why did you not use your powers within the Wizengamot to reopen the case and force a trial?"

"Because I knew that, should he ever be released and cleared of charges, he would immediately seek custody of you."

"And?"

"He would also demand to see the Potter will. Being the last in line of a noble and ancient house, coupled with him being your godfather, it would usurp my authority on the issue."

"And he would have known then, as would the rest of the world, of your deceit. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Moving momentarily forward to fifth-year, just so we do stick to the same topic here... it wasn't really Narcissa Malfoy and Belletrix Lestrange filling Kreacher with nonsense, was it?"

"No."

"Who was it?"

"It was me."

"How?"

"I used a combination of memory charms and the Imperius curse. It wasn't him who injured Buckbeak, it was me."

"I see."

Jason knew he was reaching at this point, but took a chance anyway.

"Is it true, then, it was actually you, and not Voldemort, who orchestrated the events at the Department of Mysteries in June of 1996?"

"It was me," Dumbledore admitted.

Jason's hand twitched toward his wand, as he felt the inferno of white-hot anger flare in his belly. It had indeed been a reach, but it angered him more to know he'd been bang on with his gut.

"You effectively murdered my godfather, the head of a most ancient and noble house. Albus Dumbledore. You're a fucking monster."

"Decorum, please," a witch on the far right of the panel chided, "Any further language such as that, we will fine you."

"Sorry, mum."

Jason took another deep breath to calm himself down. He went back to the protector's table a moment, pulling out another page of parchment.

"Let me jump back a year. Alastor Moody. You've known each other a long time, this is well known, I think. So tell me. When he arrived at Hogwarts, did you know it was Barty Crouch Junior, rather than your friend?"

"I did."

"What did you do?"

"After the feast, I stunned him, dosed him with Veritaserum, and determined what he was truly up to. I then modified his memory, looked in on my friend, and returned to my office. I had suspected Tom would try something along what was planned, all considering. Tom is most certainly a smart wizard, you must realize."

"I do," Jason agreed, then scowled. "So. An entire year, you knew exactly what Tom Riddle was up to, exactly what he was planning, and you did nothing. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"How did you feel, then, when I arrived back in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, with a friend... classmate... boyfriend... DEAD, BECAUSE OF YOUR BLOODY SCHEMES!"

"I felt somewhat pleased," answered Dumbledore, calmly, "Most unfortunate, the Diggory boy, but it was all for the greater good."

Jason finally lost it. "YOU TWO-FACED, BOOT-LICKING FOUL-VILE—MOTHERFUCKER!"

He was about to pummel the old man, but found himself being held back by two strong arms.

"Jason. He's not worth it."

Santos, meanwhile, sent a firework up at the ceiling. "Order."

"That'll be a thousand galleon fine, Mr. Black," said the same witch on the far right of the panel.

"Don't care," Jason scowled, "Donate it to the poor, really don't care."

Mace still held him tightly in a near bear-hug at this point, but was relaxing his grip.

"You all right?"

"Yeah—no, stay with me. Just to keep me from... y-you know," Jason answered, and Mace let go of him. Jason still rounded on the former headmaster.

"You're truly unimaginable. You admit to little remorse at learning a bright young wizard was murdered by the Dark Lord. You admit you were pleased to find he had been resurrected. Why?"

"I knew it would only be a matter of time before the pair of you would face off again. You are both extraordinary wizards, Harry. Surely you realize that."

"I do," Jason admitted, and again took several deep breaths to further calm himself. "I do respect Tom enough to recognize him as a powerful wizard indeed. I would say, in fact, I have more respect for him, than I have for you. At least Tom is rather direct in his intentions toward me... unlike you. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes."

"Good to see the Veritaserum is still working."

Jason felt Mace put a hand on his shoulder.

"When did you decide I needed to be moved out of the way—or put in Azkaban, more bluntly?"

"Immediately after our meeting in my office, after the (fortunate was whispered here) events in the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore admitted.

"After the sharing of the prophecy. Why?"

"I realized you had become more powerful than me. You had the power to easily defeat Tom and I both."

"Other than a few certain items he has stashed away. But when would you have told me about them?"

"When the time was right. I cannot answer exactly when," said Dumbledore. Jason frowned, glancing toward the Auror.

"An honest answer, Mr. Black, his behaviour is consistent," the Auror said.

"Good, although unfortunate. I won't reveal more detail about exactly what we're talking about, since it could reach the wrong ears," said Jason.

"He's created—"

This time it was Mace who slashed his wand at Dumbledore, silencing him.

"You let go of that little secret, fucker, I'll bust both your kneecaps right here and now."

"Another thousand dollar fine, Mr. Black."

"But-"

"He's with your party, Mr. Black," said judge Santos, "And I would appreciate, Mr. Mace, that you did not threaten individuals in my courtroom."

"Sorry, your honour."

Jason, meanwhile, removed the silencing charm.

"So we've established the why. So now, the how. How did you frame me for murder, Albus?"

"I summoned Kreacher, knowing he was visiting Narcissa Malfoy. I simply sent a small missive along with him, for Belletrix Lestrange. Inside, was a few strands of your hair, and a draft from Gringotts."

"Where did you get the draft?"

"From your vault."

Jason looked murderous.

"You used money out of my vault to pay a Death Eater."

"Yes."

"What did the missive ask her to do?"

"I asked her to take polyjuice potion, disguising herself as you. While you were asleep in your dormitory, I collected your wand and gave it to Kreacher, informing him to seek you out and help you into Hogwarts when the time was right."

"I'll be having a small chat with my little friend later, I think, making sure that sort of thing can't be repeated," said Jason, airily. No, he certainly wouldn't punish or hurt the old house elf, but there needed to be a few more safeguards put in place.

"When she was inside the school, what was she to do?"

"Attack the first individual she came across in a secluded location. Completing the task would earn her an additional draft from Gringotts, sent through the house elf."

"I'm curious to know," said a wizard on the left side of the panel, "How were you able to get a known Death Eater to trust your word, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"I am—or was—quite adept at the use of compulsion charms and loyalty charms."

"I see."

"She would have trusted him implicitly. Though I'm guessing Kreacher didn't tell her it came from Dumbledore," said Jason, "I mean, the Death Eaters aren't exactly the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree, but they're not thick as bricks either. Well.. maybe Crabbe and Goyle are... beside the point... sorry. Thing is, it was Dumbledore, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised, really." He took a breath. "I barely remember stumbling through the hallway that day. My head was messed up, but not that messed up. Did you do something to me, Albus?"

"Yes."

"What exactly did you do?"

"A compulsion charm convincing you to visit Miss Myrtle."

"Right, the ghost that haunts the second floor girls' toilet," said Jason. "That's where the Aurors found me. How long did you plan on keeping me in Azkaban?"

"Until you were significantly weakened by the Dementors, or in the small chance I was unable to defeat Tom myself. Though you already realize, as long as you were alive, he couldn't be killed. You were tethered together up until recently, you see."

"Until recently. I know," answered Jason, furrowing his brow. "Did you intend to murder me if necessary?"

"Yes. Harry, it was all for the greater good."

"You know what I think about the 'greater good'." Jason used his fingers to make air brackets as he spoke 'greater good'. "It's interesting, you know, that your famous phrase, is the same phrase which adorns the entrance to another Wizarding prison: Nurmengard. Tell us, who is the only prisoner still being kept there?"

"Gellert Grindelwald."

"The former 'worst dark lord in recent memory'," said Jason. "I have to wonder, but... no, I don't think we really need to know. Something about old wounds in there somewhere, I'll just leave it alone. I guess that leaves me with just one final question, Albus Dumbledore. Was it worth it?"

He again felt Mace put his hands on his shoulders in support.

"No."

The answer somewhat surprised Jason, equally as much as the glassy eyes of the former headmaster. He was clearly on the verge of tears. "You're not as cold-hearted as I thought, then. This is good bye, Albus. I hope your next life is better than this one. I have no further questions."

He let Mace lead him back to the bench behind the protectors' table, while the Auror on the floor produced the antidote for Veritaserum. The room was starting to buzz as people began to talk about the revelations they'd just heard. It was sensational, to say the least! A silencing ward had gone up, shielding the bench from the rest of the room. The panel and the judge all huddled together, while a pair of Aurors now helped the aged former headmaster back to his seat behind the defender's table.

At last, the panel shuffled back to their seats, and judge Santos again shot off a firework, silencing the room.

"Albus Dumbledore. Please rise."

All at the defender's table stood.

"Our initial sentence had included magical suppression. However, since Mr. Black seems to have already taken care of that little detail, your sentence shall be as follows. You will spend the remainder of your natural life locked away in Azkaban. It is further ordered you have no contact with any individual you have had personal contact with, for any reason, seeing from the result of such interaction recently. You will be looked on by a medi-witch periodically, to ensure you do not expire prematurely.

"All of your belongings, including the contents of any vaults you have control of, are henceforth seized and awarded to your primary victim as compensation for your crimes. Any beneficiaries named in your current, valid, last will and testament will be informed of this decision, and shall be equally reminded, it is binding and irreversible, being the consequences of the actions you have taken, and the pain and suffering you have caused.

"Albus Dumbledore. The level of depravity demonstrated here goes beyond criminal, into territory I have yet to fathom. I have been a sitting judge in my native Brazil going on thirty-five years, so that is indeed saying something. I truly echo Mr. Black's sentiments: may your next life be better than this was. I declare this hearing to be concluded." Another firework burst from the end of his wand.

AUTHOR NOTES: Up next, Jason and his friends celebrate Christmas...