Disclaimer: Nope.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter. Hestia is certainly an interesting character, and like I said, she will play a large role in the plot.
Now, we check in on someone who has been mentioned quite a lot lately, but we haven't seen anything of for a while. Watch out, everyone, here comes something I wonder if any of you saw coming.
xxxxxxxxxx
He had been speculated about by the entirety of the wizarding world for a little over a month now, and for the majority of that time, he hadn't known it. There were things that had been done to the old man's mind that one could scarcely imagine. Lord Voldemort was considered to be the most evil wizard alive, but at this precise moment, as Albus Dumbledore lay in a bed, healing from deep, terrible wounds inflicted on his brain, he thought that the Mind Healers Fudge had ordered to be sent from Saint Mungo's could give Tom Riddle a run for his money.
He had finally woken up after being in a magically-induced coma. It had been an entire month since he had escaped the Ministry's stranglehold - it was now August 5, and he had been rescued on July 5.
Rescued. Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald, a man who had duelled Voldemort and lived to tell the tale, a man who was considered to be one of the brightest and most talented wizards in history no matter what some in the wizarding world thought of him, had had to be rescued. He had, for once in his life, been outsmarted - and in the cruelest way possible.
He'd always prided himself on having a brilliant mind. Even when he was just sitting in his office eating lemon drops, the cogs in his mind were forever whirling and swirling, thinking up new strategies and new plans. He had founded the Order of the Phoenix, because he knew that the Ministry weren't doing nearly enough to stop Voldemort. Knowing that his former student, Tom Riddle, had turned into the man that was causing death and destruction throughout the wizarding world caused him great pain and sorrow. There had to be a way to end this war, Albus remembered thinking constantly as the world grew darker and darker, and hope began to vanish from people's eyes.
And now, the mind he had always been proud to possess had been broken in ways he never would have thought possible. Apparently, when he'd been rescued from the Ministry, he was barely recognizable. He had been told that he had refused to answer any of the Aurors' questions anymore, no matter how many potions they forced down his throat. All he could do was stare blankly ahead, and the Aurors would clench their fists in fury, knowing that they'd have to try again tomorrow.
Albus had been told all this by Healer Arnold Dixon. Arnold had worked as a Mind Healer at Saint Mungo's for ten years. He was absolutely astounding in the Mind Arts - Albus realized that his knowledge of both Occlumency and Legilimency surpassed that of Severus Snape, Tom Riddle, and even Albus himself. He remembered him as a Ravenclaw student who had very much kept to himself, hungering for more and more knowledge. He was very quiet, and didn't let many people get close to him. He had graduated from Hogwarts in 1980, and had been a trainee Healer for several years before becoming a full-fledged one at the wizarding hospital.
Albus sighed, a sound full of weariness and exhaustion. He was still coming to terms with everything that had happened to him. Coming to terms? he thought bitterly, and his blue eyes, instead of twinkling, were two deep, dark holes that contained a well of despair so vast that he did not know if he would ever be able to swim to shore.
This was for one reason, and one reason alone - Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, leader of the light, giver of hope, did not remember one single thing of the last year. It was as if none of it had ever happened. In his mind, it might as well be August 1994. Hadn't the Dark Mark just been seen over the Quidditch World Cup? The Triwizard Tournament would be coming to Hogwarts soon, and Albus worried about the safety of all his students - especially Harry Potter, who he knew would have a very important role to play in the future. He'd managed to convince his longtime friend, Alastor Moody, to come out of retirement and teach at Hogwarts this year.
Albus couldn't describe the shock that hit his system when Healer Dixon told him the truth. The truth was more horrible than he could ever have realized. What had been done to him was so heinous and completely worthy of a life sentence in Azkaban.
Those oh-so-wonderful Mind Healers had completely messed him up. It was like they'd gone in and conducted brain surgery, removing parts of him that were essential to who he was. Arnold had had no idea that his colleagues were performing such barbaric experiments on him. They'd made several mistakes along the way that the Healer had eventually seen, and had realized could cause him permanent damage if not dealt with.
"I am so sorry, Albus." If there was one memory which Albus thought he would never be able to forget, it had been several hours ago when Arnold had sat by his bedside and taken his hand. Albus was so weak that he couldn't even stand - it was going to take him a long time to regain his strength. "It doesn't matter that I once didn't believe You-Know-Who was back. I know the truth now, after all. But even before I did, I knew I had to get you out of there. I've been working with Healers Pollander and Shaddock for years, and I have never seen any behavior that would suggest they were up to anything like this. The instant I realized what they were doing, I knew I had to remove you from their vicinity. You are currently staying in one of my homes, and no one knows you are here. The Ministry and Saint Mungo's do not even know of this place's existence. We are currently in the United States of America."
"You took me from Britain?" Albus couldn't believe how weak his voice sounded. "But you said you've still been going to work. How is that possible?"
"Do not concern yourself over such things." Healer Dixon smiled at him. "Let's just say, Saint Mungo's has never been aware that I travel between here and Britain quite often. I am still going to work as normal."
"In other words, what you're doing is illegal," Albus said, his recovering mind very unsure of what to think of this mysterious figure. His eyes gave literally nothing away, but his smile was kind.
"Yes," Arnold agreed. "It is."
"And I suppose you're not going to inform me of how you helped get me out of the Ministry?" Albus asked.
"Portkey. Again, an illegal one," Arnold said. "But I didn't have a choice, Albus. One more day under Pollander and Shaddock's care, and your mind would have been broken beyond repair."
"What were they trying to do?" Albus's blue eyes were wide, and he felt more violated than he ever had in his entire life. He tried to remember his days under questioning, and yet he couldn't recall a single thing. "And why wasn't I able to stop them?"
"You tried." Arnold shook his head, suddenly looking furious. "You fought them," he proclaimed. "They were trying to make you think you were delusional. They were attempting to change everything of what you recalled from the past year. And once it was done, if it had been done correctly, the Aurors would have questioned you, and you'd have told them You-Know-Who hadn't returned, and Harry Potter had indeed murdered Cedric Diggory. And Harry himself forced you to believe You-Know-Who returned."
All the blood drained from Albus's face. It was almost unreal to hear about these events without having a single memory of them. Healer Dixon had told him every last thing that had happened within the last year - he had seen it all in his mind once he'd gotten him here, to this house. While he'd still been acting normal and going to work, his house-elves had been trained to shoot the potions he needed directly into his bloodstream. His mind had been so damaged that Healer Dixon had had to force him into a coma if there was to be any chance of healing at all.
"I imagine both Healer Pollander and Healer Shaddock no longer work at Saint Mungo's, then?" Albus asked, feeling sick to his stomach even though he had no food in him. That had been yet another potion that had been shot into him - a simple nutrient potion that gave him enough sustenance to keep living while he had been stuck in a vegetative state.
"That's where you're wrong. They still do," Arnold said, to his surprise.
"They do?" Albus asked. "Why wouldn't you have done something about that instantly?"
Arnold looked at him shrewdly. "For the same reason you didn't stop Professor Quirrell during Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts," he said without preamble.
"How do you know about ..." Albus started to say, but stopped when he realized the truth. "You know everything about me," he whispered.
"Albus, I had to heal your mind. What Polleder and Shaddock did to it was almost catastrophic. Every day when I arrived here from Saint Mungo's, I would return to your bedside and work for hours to heal the damage. I know it is disconcerting to hear, Albus. But there is nothing I don't know about you, after the last month of making sure that you would survive this."
The empty, hollow feeling Albus had felt all morning, ever since Healer Dixon had finally allowed him to awaken from the coma and told him everything that had occurred, gave way to a surreal, sickening horror. His knowledge of the Mind Arts had failed him. His wisdom, his understanding, his own abilities had failed him. Fudge, a man whom Albus Dumbledore knew was a fool, had done something that had almost ruined his life. Was Cornelius aware of what these particular Mind Healers could accomplish? Was this why he'd sent them in the first place? And what had Arnold Dixon been meant to do?
As if reading Albus's thoughts, which he was sure the Healer actually had, Arnold answered. "I was to make sure everything was functioning properly in your mind after those two were done with you. I found out - through much ... persuasion later - that they were apparently going to tell me that Harry Potter had damaged your mind and made you believe his story. But as soon as I performed Legilimency on you, I saw what they'd done, the mistakes they'd made."
Albus was growing more horrified by the second. Unfortunately, he understood that many people in the wizarding world, as well as idolizing and worshiping Harry, also feared him. He had done the impossible - survived a Killing Curse cast on him by Lord Voldemort himself. And, without knowing that it was due to his mother's loving sacrifice that he had lived through it, they thought he possessed a power that no other witch or wizard could. A fourteen-year-old boy knowing enough about the Mind Arts to successfully addle the mind of Albus Dumbledore was not beyond the realm of possibility.
And Albus knew that all of this was his fault. It wasn't like he couldn't have told the entire wizarding world of his supposition that Lily Potter had actually been the one to vanquish Voldemort. Harry Potter was just an ordinary boy who had a mother that had given up her life, even though she had been offered the chance to live, to walk away unscathed. He wasn't a fifteen-month-old infant who possessed the power to defy the very laws of magic.
But Albus hadn't done so, because he knew what the prophecy said. He needed the wizarding world to have a symbol of hope, because he had a bad feeling that times would get very difficult later. The darkness would rise again, and they would need light in their lives when it did. Harry Potter would be the hope of them all.
But he had miscalculated. As smart as he knew himself to be, he hadn't realized that Harry would also become a scapegoat for everything that had gone wrong. If he did something slightly out of the ordinary that was not to their liking, they would turn on him. It was so easy, yet Albus had completely underestimated their reactions.
And yet, even after finding this out in Harry's second year when many people in Hogwarts started accusing him of being the one to open the Chamber of Secrets, he still hadn't told everyone the truth. What was holding him back now? Well, it was the same as before, wasn't it? Lord Voldemort would still return someday, and Harry would be the one to bring him down. It made Albus feel better to think that a day would come when the wizarding world would realize that Harry Potter was truly the hero, and he loved them enough to save them all. Even the hardships the boy would have to endure would be worth it, in the end.
"Look," Healer Dixon said, breaking him out of his thoughts. "I know this is an awful lot to swallow. You are safe here, Albus. As I said, no one knows you are here. None of my colleagues are aware that I own this place. You are in no danger of being discovered here. This, I can promise."
"How long will it take me to heal?" Albus asked, feeling like the little boy he had once been a long, long time ago. His head was beginning to pound with all the knowledge he'd learned in a matter of hours. A year had passed, and he remembered none of it. The fear, panic, and terror - three things Albus despised experiencing - were clawing through his system like never before.
"You will need to be in bed for several more days before you can even think about trying to get up," Healer Dixon said sternly. "You have been very, very ill, Albus. There were moments when I ..." He stopped, and Albus finally saw raw emotion in his eyes. It was pain the likes of which he hadn't seen in decades. "Albus, I didn't think I'd be able to save your mind. There's a reason why you don't remember the last year. I had ... I had to erase all of it from your mind. I atempted to heal the damage done, but ... but I couldn't. The only way to save you from completely fracturing was to Obliviate that entire period from you."
Albus was aghast. He thought he knew everything there was to know about the Mind Arts, but apparently he didn't. "Where in Merlin's name did they learn how to do so much damage?" he breathed.
"Some very, very dark books," Healer Dixon replied. "And that is the very reason that they are still working at Saint Mungo's right now. You had a reason for keeping Quirrell at Hogwarts even though you knew he was up to no good, after all. I am gathering evidence that I can use against them. I, like you, can be very persuasive with people when I choose to be. And I am almost ready to come out and tell the world what I have discovered."
"I see. And how many minds are these Healers damaging while you are gathering this evidence?" Albus asked.
"I am surprised you are asking such a question," Healer Dixon said. There was no condemnation in his voice, only curiosity. "Considering what danger you allowed other students to be in while certain ... events were taking place at your school. But that is a fair question, and I will answer it. I do not think they are taking chances with any other people's minds. They ... have always had a particular loathing for you. When Fudge ordered them to see to your ... well-being, they were more than happy to do his bidding and conduct their experiments on you."
"They think you're on their side, don't they?" Albus asked in realization. "They don't suspect that it was you who got me out of their clutches?"
"They do not suspect a thing, no. They do not even realize the damage they caused to your psyche," Healer Dixon replied. "I ... persuaded them to inform me of what they had done to you, because I convinced them that I loathe you just as much as they do. The instant I told them, they sang like birds."
Albus couldn't help but shudder at the continuous repetition of the damage to his mind. He knew those words would haunt him for the rest of eternity.
"I see. Well, my mind feels alert now, although my physical health leaves ... much to be desired," Albus said, trying to get past the horror the best way he knew how.
"You are still not well, Albus. Your mind is far from fine." Healer Dixon looked uncompromisingly at him. "And you are not to worry about what is going on back in Britain."
"How's Harry?" Albus asked, unable to let that stand. After everything the Healer had told him about the past year, that was the most important question he could ask.
"I told you, he's still in hiding." Healer Dixon sighed. "He's apparently in safe hands. Your own health, Albus, should be your only concern right now. You have been given a lot of information, and I know you are tired. I will make sure nothing happens to you. You can trust me."
To his chagrin, Albus could feel the exhaustion stealing over him. Arnold was right - he was bone weary even though he had apparently slept for an entire month.
And now, several hours later, he was awake again. Nothing seemed real, and everything was wrong. The numbness he had felt after he had awoken from the coma was wearing off even more, and feelings of horror, fury, grief, and an endless helplessness were seizing him full-force. He was Albus Dumbledore - things like this weren't supposed to happen to him! How had he let two Mind Healers get the best of him? Had Cornelius known exactly what those two were doing? Had he actually ordered them to do it, because he wanted so badly for Voldemort to not have returned despite all the evidence? Did he want to get rid of Harry and chuck him in Azkaban?
And what about the Order? Apparently, he'd wanted to restart it. Had Minerva done so? How was Sirius? How were the Diggorys coping?
He wanted to remember. He so badly wanted to remember. But every time he thought about the memories that should be there, there was nothing but blankness, a horrible, cruel, terrible empty spot.
A feeling of sheer and utter despair engulfed Albus's heart as Healer Dixon came into the room to give him another potion. Here he was, having to trust this man he barely knew. Arnold had kept himself so aloof as a student that Albus knew practically nothing about him. And now he was being asked to trust this man to care for his mind and make sure it healed properly before he even attempted to contact anyone from the outside world.
And for once in his life, Albus Dumbledore wanted nothing more than to forget all his errors, his miscalculations, his hopes, his dreams, his responsibilities. All he wanted to do was to ask Healer Dixon to put him into another magically-induced coma.
And this time, he didn't want to wake up at all. Because Healers Pollander and Shaddock had taken the one thing from him he found the most precious, the thing that he had never doubted in over a century - the fitness and sanity of his own mind.
And that, he knew he couldn't endure.