AN: Don't worry guys, Mr White is going to die. Soon.

Chapter Eight – To Kill Albus Dumbledore

Mr. White was sitting on the living room sofa, in a quiet and thoughtful mood. That was when the flue call came. The fire roared, Mr. White looked up, the fire turned green, a head popped out; it was the head of the Leader of the Vampires. "Mr. White, we have finished our work." He said.

Mr. White got up with a start and said, "Okay I'll be right there."

"Be sure you have our one thousand galleons you owe us," The leader said, "And come quickly, you will want to see this."

Mr. White quickly got dressed – it never paid well to be lax on your neatness near a vampire – and went into the flue. He arrived at the Vampire room. There was two big trolls guarding the room this time on the inside. On the outside he could hear banging.

"What is going on?" He said, "Where's Harry?"

Harry Potter was in the corner of the room, his face still pale, his eyes sunken, bags under them making him look like some kind of raccoon. "Right here, grandpa," He muttered. "Right here."

"Oh good," Mr. White said with relief. He turned to the silent leader of the vampires. There were two vampires behind him. Their faces were grim. "Mind telling me what's going on?" He jerked his head to the door in indication.

"Okay. There is a rebellion going on." The leader said. "They have ousted me and want Harry Potter. They want to trade him in to dark wizards, death eaters, for a fortune."

"How much?" He said harshly.

"Three hundred thousand galleons." The leader said. "As such, since I resisted, I have been ousted. I am no longer the leader anymore."

"What?"

"Yes, no longer the leader. Now you may call me Alexis if you like."

"Okay, Alexis, listen, I…err, I am sorry about this, you have to believe that."

"I doubt it. Mr. White, from one businessman to another, let me tell you that sometimes things prop up from nowhere and take you down. A good businessman like you works to his advantage. A bad one, like myself, is ousted. I have been defeated, Mr. White."

"No. Look how much do you need?"

"To reinstate myself as Leader?" Alexis grinned. "Thought you'd never ask. Three hundred thousand galleons are what I require. I believe that's what you are blackmailing Fudge for…"

"How do you know about that?" Mr. White asked.

Harry's eyes were wide as he watched. He had just woken up from a coma induced by the dreamless sleep potion. He was seated near the cage with the African Boomslang snake. The snake hissed at him. Harry hissed back.

"I have my sources. In return I suppose I could offer you a lifetime of free potions. How does that sound?"

"For me and Harry, it sounds good." Mr. White said. "So Harry? Everything okay?"

"There's something I have to talk to you about," Alexis interrupted. "Harry's a parselmouth. We found out when he was conversing with that snake over there."

"What? A parselmouth? But how?"

"Show him, Harry."

Harry grinned. "hiss hiss hiss hiss hiss." He said to the snake, and the snake said back, "hiss his hissy his hiss."

"But parseltongue is hereditary…"

"I am sure you will figure it out with time. The solution is quite easy."

Harry was acting like an eight year old (his age) had found a new toy and not like a boy assassin. "This is awesome, grandpa."

"I'm sure it is," Mr. White said tiredly. "I am sure it is."

"I believe you should go home now, and collect from Fudge." Alexis said. "Then I can be reinstated as Leader and everything will be alright again."

"Yeah for you." Mr. White muttered. Alexis said nothing, instead kept his silence.

"Okay Harry, let's go."

They went out the floo and back to the compound. Mr. White looked tired; his eyes were bloodshot. "I'm sorry, kid, haven't got much sleep lately." The reason for it was that he was reviewing his plans and had discovered a hole. What would happen when the letter was sent out when Harry was eleven? He would have to dispose of the boy because the letter charm at Hogwarts told the real address. That would be a disaster for Mr. White.

"That's alright grandpa." Harry said. "What are we going to do now?"

"Now, you explain yourself. Just what the hell happened?"

Harry flushed. "I failed grandpa. I failed you… and my parents too."

"Explain," Mr. White commanded.

"Well I entered the Malfoy Manor just like you told me how to get through the wards. I used the animagi potion and changed into a rabbit. I circled the compound once and found an open window that I jumped through. There was a house elf there, which I stunned and bounded with ropes."

He stopped a pained expression on his face.

"Continue," Mr. White said.

"I went to Malfoy's main office, it took some finding but I managed."

"You were invisible?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Those charms are sodding hard to do…"

"Don't swear. That's only for the worthless lower class, Harry. Now continue."

"Okay when I entered his office there were a bunch of people who-"

Mr. White put a hand to his forehead and groaned. "And you continued with the job?"

"Yeah, why?"

Mr. White sat down on the couch and took out a bottle of opened scotch from which he took three deep gulps. He coughed and waved to Harry, "Go on."

"So I gave Malfoy the letter. And he got all scary, he opened his vault – It was huge! Like ten times the size of ours and there was so many bags of gold so I thought…"

"Let me guess, you took a speed potion, not knowing the side effects and ignoring that you could only do it in emergencies and eliminated everyone in the room. Then you killed Malfoy and got the money?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Then where the hell is it?"

"I dunno. I borrowed a pensieve from the vampires. I think I dropped it when I was attacked by the elf."

'I thought the elf was bound?"

"I…uh… unbounded him."

"Oh good Jesus boy, how do you manage to remember to breathe?"

Harry turned red. "It wasn't my fault. Besides I am only eight years old. I'm not superman!"

"Wait, let me guess, you stupid boy you left the pensieve with vampires, memory and all…?"

"Yeah," Harry said guiltily. "I kinda did."

"No wonder they fucking knew."

"Don't swear, grandpa." Harry said cheekily.

Mr. White glared. Then he sighed. "You need more training. How about another three years?"

"What? No way!"

"Yes way, I swear to god you made so many mistakes in your job I am surprised you didn't die…"

"I would have but you saved me," Harry said quietly. "I guess I owe you a life debt, huh?"

"Yes you do, and more than that too."

"Oh but did you know I was a parselmouth? That's so awesome! I can talk to snakes now. I wonder if I can talk to dragons too… Maybe lizards! I have to try, hey maybe we can find a basilik that…"

Mr. White groaned. He felt a headache coming on.

------

Two years later, when Harry is ten years old and ready for one last job before he becomes useless to Mr. White….

------

Mr. White had been preparing for this for a long time. As he trained Harry, ran him through virtual simulations he had set up through magic, drilling him in battle magic, dueling, all sorts of spells, and with a free supply of healing potions from the vampires he subscribed to the what doesn't kill you makes you stronger policy. And it worked.

Harry had grown from a little kid who got nightmares from his two jobs to a man. A real man. Albiet a ten year old one. Harry now had a look about him most assassins have when they enter the assassin business. He had his wand in one hand, all the time drawn, and he had animals. Mongooses mostly which he hated with a passion. They were in cages in a deep dark room that smelt of bird droppings.

He always had snakes on his arm, hissing at him and he hissed back. He held secret conversations and grew even more alienated with Mr. White.

But his eyes were the things that changed more. They were sunken, and had a deep desperate look to them like a rat had when it was caged, or a lion, captured. And the green pupils had tinges of red to them. The red that comes from madness from using the dark arts.

At night he dreamt. Strange things, strange places. Flying motorcycles, and green light. The green light of Avada Kedavra, the one curse he loved to use with a passion. Everyday he would practice his killing curse on mongooses which he bought personally from exotic mugggle stores. There were lots of them around the world and it took only minutes to get there with apparration spells. And his other unforgivables.

He also painstakingly shifted through the books in Mr. White's personal library, the one Harry wasn't allowed to enter. There he found the strangest rituals that used blood. Human blood, and human ingredients. Things like how to invent horocruxes, how to increase your speed tenfold… without speed charms.

They all had consequences, they all made you lose your humanity and give you volatile potions. Harry tried one, a potion that increased your mental speed. The ingredients you needed were the eyes of an owl and the blood of human to mix it up and change it to suit his needs. And the fang of a boomslang.

Harry had numerous snakes, Mr. White took him to Gleden the Snake Banshee one day, and Harry wanted to buy the whole lot. He went there every week to Gleden to buy a new snake. Gleden absolutely loved him.

The boomslang Harry used was the same one that had saved him a long time earlier. He did so with remorse, and mercilessness. There was no hesitation. He reached out and snap, popped off the snake's head. The snake had no chance to hiss her outrage. The other snakes were not there, it was in the washroom he did it, so the other snakes won't be in turmoil.

He mixed the ingredients up in a cauldron and boiled. Mr. White was out, doing one of the easier jobs to keep food on the table. He had let it simmer for a day and a night, and then when it was ready he put it in the fridge and let it cool for an hour… in a glass. The same bubble glass Mr. White used to drink his wine in fact.

Harry drained the potion with one gulp, and the effects were instantaneous. But they weren't what he wanted. And the worse part was that they were permenant. The potion instead of making him smarter, made him slower some way. Calmer perhaps but slower.

Slower in the sense that, while his emotions were already toned down, now he felt nothing. He wanted to feel emotions dammit! He thought that thinking would make his emotions more prominent. Fast thinking meant volatile emotions and that was what he wanted! He would study more deeply in rituals later, but for now, he was cold.

Very cold

And merciless. He had no reservations about using the crucio and used it very liberally, only on animals though. In truth he was starting to frighten Mr. White.

Mr. White was getting a bit scared now. He had been planning this for two years though. One last job, then he would kill Harry, time to bring the puppy down. It was growing too bold, too strong.

Harry must die. But after a bit of profit making. And he knew how too…

One word… Voldemort.

Yes, Voldemort. He was out there, Mr. White always knew because Mr. White had been Voldemort's top researcher.

Who the hell had gotten the dirt on horocruxes? Not Riddle, it was him, George White, the half blood.

Riddle had been half blood. They had some sort of common bond after they met on a triwizard tournament. It was hosted in Drumstrang, the last one there was. Riddle had not been one of the champions, he had not even entered.

But him and that Hogwarts headmaster, that corrupt old man Dgelus or something. They made sure Hogwarts won.

The other two champions died, Hogwarts won by default. Died on the first task. People thought it was some sort of freak accident but it wasn't. White had helped.

He did it for the powerful feeling he had felt when Riddle taught him the imperio. The feeling of superiority and control. And he had fell into Riddle's little web and it was tough to get out of the little web. Very tough. When he took the dark mark he had felt proud. A week later he realized better when he had to kneel down in front of the man.

Kneel.

Him.

No.

But Voldemort contacted him through the dark mark which had never faded away completely. As a ghostlike shade, he had no power. He did it cautiously at first, just searching in the eternal nethers of mind magicks. Dark mind magicks. And somehow he had found Mr.White, the traitor, the odd man out.

And Mr. White fell into the web of lies again.

"George… hello… its been a while."

When Voldemort had first contacted White, it scared the shit out of him. He got drunk and never spoke of it. A week later it happened again, and this time he answered back.

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am…" the voice said, a ghostly whisper on the night wind.

"Who the hell-?"

"Its me George, your old friend…"

"Tom." It wasn't a question, a statement. That was when White felt dread and terror, and cunningly, Riddle was always cunning this time even more so, he had gotten a bit of the story out from him.

White had a magical child, a child prodigy, who was an assassin.

The target?

The biggest target there was. The one that assassins had tried to off for years and years and years. The man who had single handedly defeated armies of wizards, who beat Voldemort himself into submission, along with his death eaters, over and over. That was when Albus Dumbledore was young. Now he was old.

And even more powerful.

White had one thing going for him, Riddle didn't know the boy assassin was Harry Potter.

But if Dumbledore died, then his order members would stop looking so hard for the wraithlike dark lord. And then Voldemort could go in the open and start his rise to power… again.

It was all coming back to Dumbledore. The seed had been planted, and Mr. White watered it down with Harry Potter.

To kill or not to kill... Albus Dumbledore.