Chapter 32: Swatting the bumblebee
For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1. Apologies for a chapter that is a bit shorter than the average so far.
1988-09-13 10:00 UTC, location unknown
"Nick! Penny!", called a voice from the floo.
Penny walked into the room from wherever she was, and smiled delightedly at her young (relatively speaking) friend.
"Good morning Alice, would you like to come in?", she said. She did note that Alice looked a trifle agitated, and it was best to deal with whatever the problem was more directly than through a floo.
Alice's head left the floo, and a few seconds later she walked out gracefully, and quickly vanished the few bits of extra soot from her clothes.
"Is Nick around?", she said. Then, without waiting for an answer, "I actually need to get a hold of that elf who wanted me to heal that muggle woman a couple of years ago", she said breathlessly. "It's urgent".
Hobby was in the next room, and he had heard. He was wondering if Healer Ashwell had forgotten him or something - he had been expecting a bit of an inquisition from her. He liked her, she was good at her work and a nice person, so he didn't feel like blowing her off, but at the same time, there was no way he was going to share his story - and his dual identity - with someone so far outside the core events of his past life.
"Good morning Healer Ashwell", he greeted. "What can I do for you?"
"I thought Nick was not your master - what are you doing here?"
"My master asks me to be here and give Nick and Penny company", Hobby said without thinking. Then - with a strange feeling of deja vu - he bit his tongue. This was the second time he had messed up in front of this person.
"And he also lets you call them 'Nick and Penny'? What do you call him?"
But by this time Hobby had recovered, and he grinned at her. "Nice try ma'am, but I don't screw up twice in such a short period", he smirked.
She grinned back, clearly enjoying the banter, then she got serious.
"Hobby, that girl - Dumbledore briefly scanned her mind a few minutes ago, and - knowing him the way I do - will probably do a deeper scan later tonight, when she is asleep".
"How do you know this?", asked Hobby.
"I had put a SNORT in her mind".
"Sorry what's a 'snort'?", asked Hobby, puzzled.
"Apologies; medical jargon", she said. "It was originally created only to detect mental intrusions on pureblood heirs, so they called it an IDS. Then someone modified it to detect other kinds of attacks, so they called it AIDS. Luckily some muggle-aware healer shot that down before it could take hold".
"But still... snort?", persisted Hobby.
"Primarily it detects three types of attacks. First, attacks on the nervous system and the brain, which includes the imperius curse and the cruciatus curse, as well as mental intrusions: legilimancy. Next, it detects anything happening to the musculature and bones - reductors and other explosive curses, bone-breakers, even a non-magical injury, like falling off a horse. Finally, it detects respiratory problems, such as from the asphyxiation curse. All this comes from analysing the death-eaters favourite spells during the last war". She stopped as if that explained everything.
Then - catching his look - she continued. "So they established a committee to come up with a name for this". Hobby looked suspicious, so she continued, "really, I'm not joking! The best name they could come up with was Secondary Nervous, Orthopedic, and Respiratory Tracker", she said, a trifle shame-facedly.
"That's a terrible name! Were you on the committee?", teased Harry.
"I was but my choice was just 'ADS'. Which no one liked", she sighed.
Then she shook herself. "Anyway, the snort charm I put on her tells me her mind has been probed, albeit gently, and it also tells me who did it.
"Dumbledore, I'll bet", said Hobby, with a look of mild anger on his face.
"You know, you are the most unusual elf I have ever met", smiled Healer Ashwell. "I'd love to scan your mind; would you let me?"
"Sorry but no. Meanwhile, I need to alert my master", said Hobby, and he popped off.
1988-09-13 10:15 UTC, Hogwarts
He popped into Hogwarts, straight into Filch's office. Filch was there, puttering about, and muttering to himself. Or maybe to Mrs Norris, who was sitting at his feet. She turned to look at Hobby and hissed at him.
"What is it?", growled Filch. He had an uneasy relationship with the Hogwarts' house-elves. They treated him like one of their masters, same as any other staff member, because it was in their nature to, but he always felt inferior to them. After all, they could do with the snap of a finger what may well take him several hours.
Hobby sent a silent stunner at him, earning a much longer, more vicious sounding, hiss from the cat. However, instead of lunging at him, as he was expecting, she backed up further, until her body was mostly under Filch's chair, only her head sticking out and glaring at Hobby.
Hobby wasted no time. He rifled through the drawers of the single, massive, desk, until he found what he wanted. Having found it, he popped out, straight to the seventh floor.
Wishing himself a simple room with a few chairs and a long table, he walked in and spread the map. Not knowing a way to quickly search for someone, he searched every classroom, methodically, until he found her. When he was in school, this was easier - he knew at least several names in each year and house, so he had been able to skip entire rooms in such a search. Now that was only possible for some of the senior years.
Anyway, he finally found her in the Charms classroom. It looked like the class had just given over, and the students were making their way out.
He knew she was in Hufflepuff - he had visited when she was sorted, and also spent a bit of time here and there to make sure she was alright. She appeared to be heading for the Hufflepuff common room, which meant she had a free period before lunch.
He needed to separate her from her friends, but that was easier said than done even for the other houses, and these were 'Puffs. So he waited inside their common room. When she entered, he sent her a mild compulsion to go to her dorm room, instead of staying in the common room. He felt slightly guilty, but the compulsion was extremely mild; even a child, if she really did not want to do it, would have been able to resist it. Or at least that is what he believed.
Whatever the ethics of this, she walked up to her room. She saw the elf sitting on her bed, and stood there puzzled. She'd never seen an elf do that.
Then she remembered. A shy smile crept upon her face, laced with a little bit of fear. The last time she saw this elf, he had saved her from some bad people, and also that her mother was in much worse shape, and this elf had brought a doctor to help her. (Of course, she had no memory of the details of her long imprisonment, so she thought her mother was worse off).
"I remember you. Is my mother OK? Did something happen to her or my dad?", she asked.
"No Miss; nothing. I needed to speak to you", said Hobby. "My name is Hobby, by the way", and he held out his hand.
She held out hers, and shook hands. Just like a couple of non-magicals meeting for the first time and introducing themselves.
"Did the headmaster speak to you today?", asked Hobby.
"Yes. He announced during the opening feast that he had decided to meet with each of us individually, starting from the first years. I guess it took him a couple of weeks to get to us third years".
"What did he ask you? And did he do anything else? Did he test or examine you in some way, using his wand or otherwise?"
"He asked me a few questions. He especially wanted my memories of two years ago, but I did not want to tell him anything. Besides, I don't actually remember much anyway. When I told him that, he let me go, but by that time I had a headache".
"How much time do you think he spent with you?"
She thought for a moment, and started looking puzzled.
"You know, it's funny. I only remember about five minutes or so of conversation before I was dismissed, but it seems as if it took a lot longer".
Hobby was shaking with suppressed anger. However, he didn't want to scare the child, so he calmed himself down.
"He was probing your mind, using a magical technique called 'legilimancy'. He does not have the right to do that though".
"Oh", said Emily.
"Next time he asks you to meet him, please call for me. You don't have to shout or even speak normally; just whisper and I will come. I may not be visible, but I will be there, and I will briefly pat your arm to tell you I am here. After that nothing will happen to you."
"Why did he do that?"
"I think he was trying to find someone. He was trying to find my master, who was responsible for rescuing you and several others from several other pureblood homes. But don't worry, we can take care of ourselves", he grinned.
She felt a little easier at his smile and the words of assurance. "OK, I will do that. Just 'Hobby'?" she demonstrated her whisper.
"Perfect", said Hobby. "Oh and by the way, even if someone else calls you, let me know if you ever get the kind of headache you got this time, or you think you have lost some time like you did just now, OK?"
He gave her another smile, patted her on her arm, and popped out.
1988-09-13 17:00 UTC, location unknown
Dumbledore found himself in a very unusual situation. He was tied up hand and foot, and the room he was in, appeared to be sucking out his magic. Or at least preventing him from flaring it in anger. Or any other emotion.
It was also affecting his occlumency.
A house-elf was standing in front of him. "Ah, you are awake", he said. "I will get my master", and he popped away.
A few seconds later, the Phantom was in front of him. He recognised him from some of the vague descriptions, but mostly from the fact that he could not see his face at all, and the Phantom was the only one who had ever done that. (The Unspeakables also did the same, but in their case it was an effect created by their charmed identification bracelet, so he could detect the source of that magic. In this case he could detect nothing.)
"What do you want?"
Too late, he saw the Phantom's companion. Similarly attired, similarly blurred, but distinct nevertheless.
Without warning, the Phantom's companion launched a mental attack, the like of which Dumbledore had never ever experienced. This seemed to be from a powerful mind, a mind that spoke of enormous brute strength, yet a gentleness that could rock a baby to sleep if it wanted to. None of the gentleness was being wasted on him though, and his head was splitting under the attack. This would be the mother of all headaches.
Finally, the attacker relented, and Dumbledore was freed. He immediately went for his wand, but of course didn't find it.
The Phantom calmly handed it to him. That was bad enough, but what he said was worse. "I am now the master of the Elder Wand, headmaster. You may use it, but if you abuse its power, I will take it away", said the Phantom.
"May I ask what this is all about? How have I wronged you, whoever you are?"
"Legilimancy on minors is illegal, headmaster, and you have intruded on the minds of several children. Some of them have complained of unusual headaches, and it didn't take us long to ask a few questions and realise the common factor among all of them was a visit to your office", said the other wizard.
Of course, none of that was true. They only had the "snort" system, and that too only on Emily, but misdirection was useful. Even necessary, to protect Emily.
The Phantom turned to his colleague. "What did you find?"
"He's been doing this to all the muggleborns. Systematically. Methodically". The wizard was visibly angry.
"What was he looking for?"
"Memories of you, or your elf. I suppose, since it is well-known that you saved a bunch of them from Malfoy and his cronies, he thought they'd remember something about you."
The Phantom looked at the headmaster with a vicious smile. He produced a paper and ballpoint pen, and handed it to the headmaster.
"Write down something that is not very important, not secret, but you have a distinct memory of".
Dumbledore paled. No one said he was stupid; he knew exactly where this was going.
"I do not believe that is necessary. I think I understand precisely what you are telling me", he said in a resigned tone.
"Nevertheless, a demonstration will serve to prevent any second thoughts in future", said the Phantom, and again thrust the paper and pen in Dumbledore's direction.
"It is really not needed; I believe you and I know what you can do to me. This will not happen again, and in any case I have now found you so we can disc-"
"No", the Phantom cut him off. "The demonstration is needed. You are notoriously megalomaniacal, and without this reinforcement you are almost certain to regress".
Very reluctantly, Dumbledore took the paper and pen, and simply wrote down "The day McGonagall joined the staff of Hogwarts".
"Isn't that an important memory?"
"Sentimental, but not significant in any other sense", said Dumbledore. It was left unsaid that she and he were on the outs with each other now, and what little sentiment he had with regard to his dealings with her had turned bitter anyway.
Remus, though Dumbledore did not know it was he, turned his wand on him again, and carefully ripped that memory out of his head. It took a bit of time, but it was not hard to do.
"Take a look at the paper".
Dumbledore took a look, fearfully. What would he find? What memory had he been forced to sacrifice?
He read his own handwriting, and a wave of relief swept him. Even though he knew they had let him choose, he did not remember what he had chosen. Now, for the life of him, he could not remember anything about the day McGonagall started work as a teacher.
"If I hear of any more attempts at legilimancy, we will wipe out all your good memories of Ariana", said the Phantom, with a cruel grin. "We will only leave the one where she died".
Dumbledore slumped down in defeat, but that was not the end.
"If you really need to talk to me, call for my elf, Hobby. He won't appear, but he will hear, and will tell me. Now, what is it you wanted to speak to me about, for which you violated the privacy - and in some cases health - of so many children under your care?"
Dumbledore had the grace to look ashamed at that statement. It was, after all, a very clear and succinct description of what he had done.
"I wanted to ask you about bringing the Durs-"
"No!". This time the interruption was much more forceful, and the room seemed to shake with the Phantom's anger.
Dumbledore found himself lifted off the chair he was sitting on, but his throat. This other wizard, whoever he was, had enormous strength.
Hobby glared at him. "You will cease to interfere with Harry Potter's life. As far as you are concerned, he does not exist. What we will do to you if you try anything with him again, will be a hundred times worse than what we just promised you if we hear of you legilimancing another student. Do you understand?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND? Say yes, I understand. Say it!"
"Yes, I understand". Never had he been treated like a school child, not even when he was a school child. And this was well beyond how even the Marauders - perennial trouble makers all - had ever been treated by him. Dumbledore was angry beyond belief, but he forced himself to keep calm. Time enough to figure out next steps once he was back in his domain.
The Phantom glared at him once more, then took his arm, and popped him into his office.
An even more chilling thought hit him as he realised something. He had no clue where he had been taken, nor how someone had managed to apparate him out of Hogwarts. He, the headmaster, who held all the wards, who was the only one who was allowed to make portkeys in and out. Someone had kidnapped him from his domain, from his stronghold. And then put him back.
Too bad there weren't any chamber-pots in the room; he might have guessed where he was.