I don't like this chapter much; it's when Chase meets Dumbledore. It's a too crazy too soon some kind of chapter. I might edit it later, but now I just want to get to the good stuff asap ;)

"Hey, that's Cameron's…" Chase could not believe his eyes. The stout woman, Professor Sprout, had arbitrarily called out "Lemon Sorbet" and Chase was about to finish his sentence with "… favorite dessert" when the gargoyle in front of them leaped to life and aside to show a luminous, alarming shaft-like vertical space, embedded with an upward moving spiral staircase. He was about to lose his mind or faint when the woman beside him shot up her stick and cried "Expergiscere" and Chase didn't know whether it was her shrill voice or the obvious spell that had waken him up.

Chase felt a shove in the small of his back and before he knew it, the moving gargoyle was jumping back into its original post and the magical door closed behind him, and he was being raised upwards on the stair step he'd landed on.

"Um," he muttered nervously, but he was also as quiet as he could be, not wanting any shaft monster or the one hiding under the stairs to pounce on him now. "Woman? Professor Ma'am?"

There was no answer, of course. He was already several meters higher than where he was standing a moment ago. He started looking around, trying to make sense of all this. He recounted the events in his head. First he was with the team in House's office and House. He was telling him how badly he sucked this morning and sent him out to get coffee. This wasn't a dream, was it?

Chase was sort of an expert in lucid dreaming. He looked at his watch, and the time it showed made perfect sense as he mathed the amount of time he'd spent since he stepped into this strange, nightmarish (counting the gargoyle and Snape's ingredients on the chalkboard), ancient world of robe-clad people. He looked up, shut his eyes, and then looked at his watch again. Same time. He looked at it for a third time, and the arrows stayed the same place. So he wasn't dreaming then. If he was dreaming, they would've changed completely, for in dream didn't keep up well with details.

He thought about the smudge he'd last touched before he was swallowed into here. Could it possibly have been an instant drug thing that gives you fantastic hallucinations through one slight touch? Or was the tip of his finger still touching it at the hospital now, making him see all of those visions through the contact of the smudge? But if so, someone who cared enough would at least turned him away from the coffee machine. Unless – did I die?

Suddenly, Chase found himself facing an elaborate door. It opened as soon as his senses took it in and they were now absorbing a tall man with a long silvery beard. His eyes a light blue of the sky that also reminded him of someone he knew very well, but he dismissed that thought. Something about this man, he didn't know what – could be his air of kindness, wisdom or patience, yet he doubted that – seemed far from resembling House.

"Enter," the man said. Chase pursed his lip in false superiority and strut inside the office, his steps becoming slower and more modest as he took in the wonders of this room. Hundreds of unrecognized objects filled every shelf, the portraits moved, seeming to have an embedded video-screen, yet they all stared at him.

"Where am I?" Chase said, never had meant to ask that question more than he did now.

The old man closed the door, and walked to over to the desk in the room, taking his time with his steps. Like the others, he wore robes; unlike the others, they were bright, light blue-colored robes.

"I'm Professor Dumbledore," explained the man, taking his seat behind his desk. "You came in time, Dr. Chase."

"How do you know my name?"

"One question at a time," answered the man with a rather frivolous smile hidden under his swarming white moustache. He drew out a stick like the one the teacher in the lounge had, and instantly Chase flinched. He had no time to cling onto his clothes, but coincidentally had enough time to suddenly remember where the atmosphere about this man derived from. His gay cousin Fred had that same atmosphere about him. He didn't know why irony always came at times like these.

Chase screamed. The man whipped the air with his stick, yet only another one of them comfortable chairs popped out of nowhere. Chase stared at it, taking out his stethoscope, automatically getting his heart rate checked.

"I need to get out of here," Chase muttered slowly, but not quietly enough so the man wouldn't hear him.

"Sit down, Robert. You are much smarter than that."

Chase whirled round at the professor, and saw that he had his hands neatly laced together on his desk, watching Chase with a bland expression. Chase deduced that the man could certainly right, and he started to use his better judgment, started to look around this room, or office, with a better eye.

"So," said Chase, a few minutes later, still not taking his chair. A hand rested on his chin, his finger stroking his lower fat lip. "This is some kind of magic?"

The professor nodded his head with the air of someone encouraging a very fresh beginner. Chase clung onto this cheer, though, no matter how small it was, he felt the support and smiled.

"Sit down," said the man calmly, after allowing him some more time to bask in the successful progress Chase made, for he'd done more than just pointing out something. He had accepted the place he was in.

"To answer your first question," the old man started, now in a strong, clear voice. "You are in Hogwarts Wizarding School, where they learn about magic, Dr. Chase."

Chase gave him a look of seeming impressed. "I didn't know they had schools for those things," said Chase, not knowing why he was interrupting. Because of his shame for that, he lost control of his ramblings. "In our world, they call them mental institutions."

"Silence," cried the man, clearly affected.

"I take it you're a wizard, too," Chase continued to blabber with a prominent stare up Dumbledore's pointy hat. A muscle in Dumbledore's now reddened face twitched. It caught Chase's attention and he glanced down at it with a surprised wince.

"Are you always suffering from ranging stress disorders, sir?"

"No," said Dumbledore hotly, with an obvious failed attempt to sound calm.

"I take it you are the principle of this school."

"The Headmaster, yes."

"Hmm," said Chase, sitting back in his chair fondly, taking in his unusual but definitely striking surroundings. Then something struck him. He angled his head to the man. "Exactly, why am I here?"

Dumbledore smirked. Chase had the feeling that if he had stayed a bit quieter throughout this conversation, the Headmaster's smile wouldn't've looked so vindictive.

"Listen," Chase said with a blink of his grey eyes. "If you want something from me, just ask. But don't bring me into this rabbit hole and stare at me like I'm an alien. A lot more would be done to you if you would visit my world."

"As a matter of fact, I do want something from you," Dumbledore voiced deeply, with that breath of an old, wise man that seemed to come from many far lands away."

Chase silently cursed himself for forgetting who he was talking to. If he hadn't forgotten how gay the Headmaster seemed to be, he would have rephrased his sentence, but it was too late now. "Is it ph-ph-physical?" asked Chase in his sure Aussie accent.

"Yes, certainly it is," came Dumbledore's prompt answer.

Chase smiled and nodded, but soon after he jumped out of his chair and ran to the door he'd come through. It didn't budge, yet he kept trying the handle. He couldn't actually find the handle.

Behind him, Dumbledore searched his desk in a rage, his expression from the last sure one he'd shown while answering Chase's question clearly changed.

"Enough of that," snapped the old man, retrieving his stick, which to Chase, it was now clear that it was a wand. The man aimed it at Chase and Chase felt himself return to his chair again without his will.

The old man put his wand next to him on the desk, still frowning behind his half-moon glasses. "What's wrong with you, sir? I supposed doctors held their grounds more firmly than that."

"Hold my grounds for what?" spat Chase anxiously amidst his desperate withering on the chair he seemed to be magically glued to. "You're talking like I have something to gain here." His face was red and puffy now; he arched his back upwards, giving it his utmost strength in getting off the chair. But whenever he removed a limb or part of his body, another part stuck. The image he saw in his mind with what that man seemed to do to him wasn't pretty, no matter how pretty Chase still looked in it; on the other hand, his beauty was the trigger here.

"I shouldn't have let this happen," cried Chase. "I refuse to get raped by an old man!"

Dumbledore had been trying to verbally calm Chase, but when Chase said that, Dumbledore gaped, and at the same moment, the door of his office flung open.

"What is all that racket about?"

Dumbledore's face darted to the woman at the door, the same one who escorted Chase here, and instantly climbed to his feet. "Nothing, nothing, Pomona," looking back at Chase with a bright, yet sagacious smile, "Just a little understanding." And he arced his brow warningly and amusingly at Chase. Chase comprehended Dumbledore's look and in a surge of relief, nodded subtly and reattached himself properly in the chair.

"Come have a seat." Another spark of Dumbledore's spark now shot out another chair next to Chase's and Professor Sprout occupied it. She seemed to be very much at ease in that office and Chase didn't remember envying anyone more in his life. He didn't know why, though. Maybe, he thought, if someone like Cameron and who was not a doctor, yet probably worked in some other kind of job, one that didn't require every answer to be as accurate as one plus one equals two, they'd enjoy that kind of thing more, and would be here feeling excited about all of it. This was the first time he felt like he could be better off not being a doctor. Yet, the words that came next out of Dumbledore's mouth caused Chase to take that thought back.

"Dr. Chase is a very skilled and clever doctor, Professor Sprout. One of the main reasons we need him here."

"How long is he going to stay?"

"Goodness, Pomona. The man has a job." He looked back at Chase with that cheerful, knowing light smile. "We won't keep him for long."

"What are the other main reason I'm here for?" asked Chase. He hadn't removed his eyes from Dumbledore all the while.

Dumbledore raised a finger, as though telling Chase "Hold on a sec" and with his other hand fumbled inside the pocket of his robe. Then Dumbledore bent over his desk so that Chase could see what was in his hand clearly. Chase's eyes acted as though they had jumped out of their sockets. He recognized the transparent yellow tubular plastic vile instantly, through which he saw Dumbledore's warped face. The label read Gregory House. It was the same prescription bottle House used for his Vicodin.

Chase slowly took the bottle from Dumbledore. It was almost empty, the lights of the candles in this room causing the yellow of its plastic to become so enticingly aglow. Cameron would so be having an orgasm right now if she saw Chase holding House's bottle of Vicodin.

"Is it from his secret stash?" Chase asked eagerly, as though he was an eight-year-old who was given the latest edition of his favorite video game console.

Dumbledore serenely shook his head. Chase's eagerness tripled.

"His secret, secret stash?"

Again, Dumbledore negated that. Chase now looked disappointed, yet gathering some more hope, he hesitantly said, "His secret, secret, SECRET stash?"

Dumbledore shook his head forcefully, and parted his lips. "I got it from his desk in the office."

Chase looked horrifically disappointed now. Like he'd just figured out Batman only wore a suit to hide a very foul rash.

"However," said the Headmaster importantly, standing up from his desk with an air of authoritative and sharp-witted dynamism. "I want you," pausing to lean towards one of the small closed cubicle in one of his shelves, his back to Chase and Sprout. Chase could hear him slide open its drawer. "To fill it up," said the Headmaster, returning to his post. Then simply with a kindness in his tone, he added, "With these."