October 7, 1995 – Hogwarts, outside the Headmaster's Office
Amelia Bones took a deep breath and gave her companion a questioning look. Algernon Croaker nodded grimly at her, his short silver hair and goatee giving him the air of a disgruntled professor. The duo had set up a meeting with Albus Dumbledore, and were about to demand answers to some very important questions.
Bones had informed her longtime ally and fellow Department Head of Harry Potter's revelations, and at first he didn't believe her. He had stroked his goatee and frowned condescendingly at her. Then she had showed him the memory of Voldemort's rebirth, and he was made a believer.
Though not as immediately angry at Dumbledore, Croaker was more mystified than Bones at what he had witnessed in the pensieve. It should not have been possible. He knew of no way for the dead to be resurrected, and if some new and effective method had been discovered, it was truly an ominous turn of events.
The pair straightened their backs as the gargoyle moved aside to admit them. They had agreed on their strategy for approaching the Headmaster, which included waiting a day for Croaker to study Harry Potter's memory more carefully. He had never seen anything like it, neither the rebirth nor the mysterious victory that Potter had won over the newly-resurrected Dark Lord. That uncertainty troubled him.
Croaker was very aware of the potential danger they faced in confronting Dumbledore—if he was capable of trying to sacrifice Harry Potter, his reaction to them would be unpredictable—and so they had taken steps to ensure their safety on his turf. Dumbledore needed their support too much to harm them, but he might try to question and then obliviate them.
As they approached the door at the top of the stairs, it opened of its own accord and they saw the Headmaster looking down upon them.
"Welcome Amelia," he smiled. "Algernon," he nodded.
"Albus," they both acknowledged.
"Do come in," Dumbledore said, leading them into the office. "Can I offer you some refreshment? A lemon drop, perhaps?" he asked, gesturing for them to take seats.
"No thank you, Albus," Amelia answered for the both of them as they sat down. "We are here to discuss the return of Voldemort and why you seem hell bent on having Harry Potter killed."
The bluntness of the response caught Dumbledore off-guard, and the look of geniality faded quickly from his face. His right hand twitched, instinctively desiring to draw his wand.
Croaker raised his hand. "Don't even think about drawing that wand, Albus. You can't kill us, and we've taken steps to insure that an obliviation would fail. If we leave this office without our memories, you're not going to like the consequences."
Dumbledore's jaw clenched as he considered how to respond to this situation. Somehow Harry Potter had gotten in touch with Director Bones, and she had believed his story. Damn, thought Dumbledore grimly. I can't afford to make enemies of Amelia and Algernon right now. Better see how much they know.
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Dumbledore smiled tightly. "To what precisely are you referring?"
"Can it, Albus," Bones glowered. "We've both seen Potter's memories of Voldemort's resurrection, and the boy believes that you intend to have him killed. From what I've seen he's not just being paranoid. We have two questions for you. Just why in the name of Merlin did you fail to inform us of the Dark Lord's return, and what are your plans for Harry Potter?"
Dumbledore didn't move a muscle as he thought furiously. So Harry is likely in their custody, he thought. I won't be able to get to him without convincing them of the truth. Just how much I can reveal here?
"Amelia, Algernon," he sighed, "I do apologize for concealing the Dark Lord's return from you, but it was necessary. There are things happening that cannot become public knowledge. Surely you don't believe that I would act against the interests of the wizarding world?"
"I don't know what I believe right now, Albus," Croaker snapped, "so stop pussy-footing around and tell us what the hell is going on. You know we're not here to arrest you."
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