A/N: Chapter last edited on 12/18/19 (M/D/Y)

Harry The Reaper

Chapter 4

Dumbles Demented

Previously on Harry the Reaper:

Harry never even had a chance to blink before he was suddenly stuck by a massive bolt of grey lightening from Deaths hands. A bolt so bright, it surrounded him completely in a cocoon of grey light. The last thing Harry heard before his world turned dark once more was a silent chorusing of the crowds:

"So it was decreed, so it is done.

"So it is decreed, Deaths will be done.

"By the will of the gods', so it was decreed."

" By Deaths hand, it shall be done."

And now the continuation:

Several hours had come and gone. Harry, knocked out by an overdose of Deaths godly powers had turned into an undead agent of the afterlife, namely a Grim Reaper.

He was currently recovering from his ordeal, his 'upgraded' body was slowly adapting to quite a few changes, the least of which was a set of new black wings which could now be seen sprouting from his shoulders in a wide arc.

Those, he knew, would take some time getting used to. Thankfully however, he also knew that no mortal would be able to see them once he was back with the living, so it wouldn't be too bad. Besides, he could now fly. 'How cool was that,' he mused as he patiently waited for his body to stop changing.

Dursley residence, Little Whinging, Surrey; shortly before Dumbledore's arrival

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Chaos; the god of disorder and despair... and self appointed part time god of mischief, was in the process of implementing some 'retribution' of the chaotically murderous kind. Anything to make a certain new reapers new life that little bit more bearable for when he arrived back to Earth. Mind you, not that he would actually needed it anymore, as he was now effectively a different person. But it was the thought that counts...right?

Besides, it would not do for a young child to be abused and for the mortals to get away with it. No, that would simply not do at all. At least not if it could be avoided. Also, for the amount of 'disorder' Harry had inadvertently caused, he felt he owed the new reaper. This would be his way of repaying him for the unexpected fun...and newly added paperwork on Orders... and most likely Deaths desks.

If this retribution just happened to turn out to be a little bit...well...of the more permanent kind, then that was simply bad luck... for the mortals.

Now, normally he would not usually be permitted to go as far as he was planning, as normally the killing of mortals - even if justified - was frowned upon, even by the gods. Unless of course it was done by Death or his reapers. That was, after all, their job and his divine right. However, due to... certain extraordinary circumstances, for once he, 'Chaos', had received permission from the very same death god, to bend, even break the rules a bit. Just this once.

And so, in a bizarre twist of fate by Fate, for once it was not Death or one of his reapers who would come to reap...but chaos. Such, as they say... was life. Or not...as the case would soon be.

Of course the mundanes in question would never actually appreciate or thank him for the rare honour of being 'entertained' by himself personally. That, he mused, as he walked down the lane towards Privet Drive, would have been a bit too much to expect. Especially since he was there to kill them. Sadly, not everybody understood or appreciated greatness when it blessed them with its presence. It was a sad fact in his profession that some mortals were rather hard to please and usually quite thankless.

Oh well, it did not matter. It was after all...all for the greater good and if a certain manipulative old coot could use that phrase, then surely so could he.

When did the old coot know what was for the greater good anyway. In this case Chaos was sure it really was...just that...

'For the greater good.'

When Chaos therefore arrived at the Dursleys residence, he was therefore quite happy to see that not only did he find his doomed victims present and waiting, but he was also pleasantly pleased - though not necessarily surprised - to find that the dear family of four had recently been upgraded into a decisively unhappy quintet of five. And while it was true that the fifth was not family, not by a long shot, it did not matter.

All that mattered was that the self-acclaimed leader of the light himself… the 'I am the great future God of manipulations and deceit: Albus Fumblebumble of the Hogs Warts'... had arrived.

"Oh joy! This was going to be fun! fun! fun!" he said giddily as he rubbed his hands together with glee, his prankster self awakening as he sensed his prey. Very high prey indeed. Just the way he liked it. The perfect recipe for some good old divine chaos.

It was just too bad he wasn't permitted to kill the old fool as well, only the elder Dursleys.

At least not by his hand...

But that did not mean he couldn't cause the old coot some trouble where he was there. Trouble of the terrible terrific troublesome capital 'T' kind.

Or was that the capital C of the chaos kind?

No matter!

Let the fun...begin.

Insuring that he was invisible, thoroughly silent and more importantly... immaterial - unless he willed it - he stepped through the solid door of the Dursleys home as if it wasn't even there, stopping just long enough to loosen a small bolt in the door. That done he skipped along the hall towards the dining room, knocking over a vase of roses as he skipped along all the while singing.

Ring-a-ring...oh look at all the roses,
A pocket full of posies,
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!


...and we all fall down!

A few minutes earlier.

The Dursleys were in shock. There was no other word to describe it. They had been ever since the old mans arrival, Marge choking, Rippers accident... add to that that the old fool Fumbleboor... no... Dumbeldork...or...whatever the heck he was called had come for a visit and was demanding to know where their freak of a nephew was.

Well, it was all simply too much for them to handle.

Currently the pale and shivering family of four were tied up listening to said old man, as he held a small bottle of what looked like clear liquid in his hand, all the while mumbling quietly, talking to himself.

"Hmm, how many drops was I supposed to give a muggle again?" Dumbledore asked himself, speaking out loud as he held up the bottle of the potent truth serum.

"You know, I'm not sure. I never could remember these sort of unimportant things," he lied, meaning to frighten the Dursleys into submission.

"Wasn't there a rule that muggles couldn't handle more than a few drops? Something to do with them… what was that word again... dying? Yes...yes, I think that was what they called it. Dying. Hmm... oh well, that's just too bad, sacrifices must be made. I guess there is no time like the present to learn. All for the greater good, of course. Yes, all for the greater good. Well…I do have four people to play around with, don't I? Plenty of room for error, to try and try again. Yes…yes, Albus you clever man... yes I think that will do just fine. It's just too bad, it could have been five...but I'm afraid the pooch had other ideas, oh well."

"So, that means I can afford two...no three errors…how wonderful!" Dumbledore said merrily, looking sharply at Dudley at the same time… "Now to figure out who I'll start with...Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Mo...catch a muggle by the toe, if he squeals don't let him go...I think I'll start... with... you!," Dumbledore said pointing towards each Dursley before finally settling on Dudley.

Dudley went blind with fear as he heard what the old man was saying and it didn't take long for him to lose control over his bodily functions, much to his and his parents' dismayed shame and an old mans disgust.

Dumbledore grimaced as the tell-tale smell of lost bodily waste met his nose but managed to force a pleasant smile to his face.

"Now, now...no need for that. I promise it won't hurt…much. Just two or more drops, it's all very fast, you'll see...or maybe not. I'm afraid I'm not exactly sure how many exactly I can give you. To many and you die. Too few and I'll just have to give you some more. But I'm fairly sure…about let's say...fifty-fifty, perhaps less, that it will all be all OK… I'm not sure...after all I've never done this before. But that's what makes this so much fun,' he said smiling widely at his increasingly terrified victims.

"Of course…if you'd simply just tell me what I want to know…we could skip this unfortunate cumbersome yet necessary exercise and I'll be happily on my way. If not …well… let's just say…I'd apologies now in advance for any unfortunate grievances...but I simply can't get myself to care," Dumbledore said, forcing a grin onto his face as he saw the ever increasing fear in the Dursleys' eyes.

Dumbledore of course knew the right amount of drops to use, but the Dursleys didn't know that. Nor did they need to know that. It was all an act. With a swift movement he grabbed hold of Dudley, who immediately started screaming in compete panic. One quick silencing charm and he was silent.

"Now, now, there is really no need for that, my dear boy. We wouldn't want to cause you any more stress than necessary now, would we? Think of your poor voice. It would be a shame to lose it...permanently. Besides, nobody can hear you scream anyway…I made sure of that. Magic, you see is such a wonderful terrible thing. But great if used by the right sort. People can be bent to your will in so many different ways, it can be such a wonderful past time…quite amusing actually. Why, you have no idea just how many times I have..."

"Ah, but excuse me… I seem to be rambling on again and of course, you wouldn't understand me anyway…would you? Of course not, how silly of me to expect a silly little muggle like you to understand the great actions of a great god like me," said Dumbledore sweetly in a babyish mocking voice.

The Dursleys looked at him like he was mad. Currently invisible, Chaos, who was watching from the doorway simply snorted bemusedly at his blasphemy. 'As if he could ever become a god! ludicrous!' Pigs would fly before he became a god. Muggle pigs, without human help or magic used on them first, that is.

Slowly Dumbledore held out the bottle of Veritaserum again.

"OK….OK…please stop!...I'll tell you everything! I'll do anything…" wailed Vernon. "Just please…I beg you, PLEASE!... Please leave us alone. Please!" he practically screeched in fear.

"Oh!…Really?" asked Dumbledore sweetly.

"Yes…YES… damn it…Anything! Anything!… just please don't harm us.," wailed Vernon loudly, tears flowing freely from his face.

"Good boy…Now!…

Where is Harry Potter?"

Vernon gulped. "I…I…In…t...t...the…"

"Yesss!...I'm listening!"

"..the…c.c. ..b bb..oo.a…"

"Cupboard?" asked Dumbledore sweetly, clearly undisturbed by the man's claim.

Vernon only managed to nod fearfully. Beside him Petunia and Dudley, white-faced and trembling, did the same. Marge who had fainted was currently drooling on the carpet, oblivious to the world.

"Ah, well, let's have a look then, shall we?" said Dumbledore joyfully, choosing to read the rest of the information he needed directly from Vernon's mind. It was more of a statement than a question anyway.

Still invisible, now in a corner of the room, Chaos snorted again. 'As if he didn't already know. Yes...quite a naughty fellow our little Dumb diddy Dorkins,'' he thought to himself before suddenly snapping his fingers and casting a divine spell on the cupboard. Then smiling at what he knew was about to happen next he snapped his fingers a second time. Suddenly he was relaxing on an armchair only he could see, with a beautiful buxom girl giving him a massage - again one only he could see. Finally there was a large box of popcorn in his hands.

Casually, as if he didn't have a care in the world, Dumbledore moved towards the alleged cupboard and tried to open it. However, it wouldn't budge. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows slightly then turned to face the Dursleys once more… "What's this, a military grade security lock? Impressive! If not a little excessive I might add… interesting! He gave Vernon a small nod. "You really must hate the lad," he said, smiling before turning back to face the door once more. He never noticed Vernon frown, nor the sudden confused look on his face either.

Meanwhile back in Limbo Land, Death Reaper HQ, guest room.

Slowly, as if from a dream, Harry woke up. It was the second day after his change into an undead Reaper. The first thing he realized as he opened his eyes was that he felt different…stronger, more alert… reborn. Wondering where he was, Harry blinked and looked around.

He seemed to be in another one of those spotlessly white rooms everybody in the afterlife were so fond of.

'Why does everything have to be so white all the time?' he asked himself, bemused. And so clean... you could practically eat of the floors here, it was that clean.

Almost as soon as those thoughts entered his head the room changed and turned into a cream coloured, slightly dusty and more dirty version of itself.

Ok…now that's cool! thought Harry, surprised and impressed by the sudden change. Thinking of another colour he watched the walls change first into blue, then into a red before settling into a calm light blue.

"Anything else I should know about?" he asked the room in general after willing the room to become clean again. As if the room had ears of its own, a tray of his favorite food, complete with a table and chair, appeared beside him.

"Food?...sure...I guess, why not. Looks like even the dead enjoy a good meal," Harry said, speaking more to himself than to the room. Shrugging, sure that it wouldn't be poisoned - not that it would matter anyway seeing as he was already dead...or was that now undead, Harry sat down and began to dig in.

'Come to think of it, being undead doesn't really feel that much different to being alive,' he thought as he grabbed a chicken leg which magically appeared in front of him. At least it looked like one. 'Looks like chicken, smells like chicken, tastes like chicken... must be chicken,' he thought with a shrug.

Suddenly he frowned and lost his appetite. 'Do they even have chicken in the afterlife,' he wondered thinking of all the animals which died each day.

'What happened to them?' he wondered. 'I really would not like to be an animal if this...' he thought, but was unable to finish his thought as he stared at the uneaten chicken leg in horror. 'If that this was their ultimate fate...'

Not feeling very hungry anymore Harry placed the uneaten leg back on his plate. Only to jump in surprise as it was suddenly snatched up in a blur by a furry hand.

Surprised, Harry turned to look at what had stolen the chicken leg.

It was a creature of a sort he had never seen before. To Harry it looked like a mixture between an elf, straight from a fairy tale he had once read, and something else he couldn't quite describe. It was like an evil fairy, only much, much larger...and much, much uglier.

Had Harry already been a wizard and a 7th year Hogwarts newt student, he might have recognized it as a Gremlin...a mutation between an ugly house-elf and a doxy, a creature usually only seen in textbooks, under the section;'highly dangerous triple X rated creatures to be avoided at all costs'. However, having lived his life thus far as a muggle, he did not.

This fearsome and no less deadly critter, was known as a Graveling. Not to be mistaken, under any circumstances - at least not if you wanted to live a long and happy life -, with their mortal cousins; the Gremlins.

While Gremlins were known as being highly destructive, on a scale no pixie could ever hope to achieve, as they always caused severe injuries everywhere they went. Unless provoked. If provoked then a call to the local undertaker was never far away. That is, it there was anything left of the body.

Not so for their highly vicious undead cousins; the Gravelings. Gravelings, as a rule, were feared even more than grims, dragons...or even dementors for that matter.

While a Gremlin, as a few unfortunate unspeakables would be able to tell you, if they were still alive to do so, were well known for their destructive capabilities and their sly, clever, not to mention devious ways of causing mayhem, mischief, injuries and destruction. Gravelings; the Gremlings undead cousins, on the other hand, were well known for putting people into graves. Hence their name. They were that dangerous.

To see a graveling meant someone near by - usually you - was about to die. No ifs or buts. Someone was going to die and there would be nothing you could do to stop it. Death always followed after a graveling's sighting. They always killed!

It is said...those who can see a graveling...are already dead... their bodies just didn't know it yet.


In fact, for a time gremlins were so highly feared that in the year 234 AM (after Merlin) the Ministry of the time offered anybody a fortune of 100 Galleons for the body of any gremlin, dead or alive…preferred dead. An astronomical amount in those days as back then one hundred galleons would have been enough to pay for a large house and let one live a life of relative luxury.

Of course very few gremling hunters actually made it, fewer became rich enough to enough it.

The few families who specialized in gremling hunting, that were successful became filthy rich very fast. Unfortunately, those same families also actually were successful usually didn't survive long either. Gremlings are pack creatures... worse...they had long memories and held even longer grudges.

It is speculated that this is how some of the wealthy pureblood families of today became so rich. Not because they hunted and killed Gremlings...but because they inherited the fortunes from the dead hunters that did.

Unfortunately... or maybe fortunately, no graveling was ever caught. Seeing a graveling only appeared if someone -usually you - was about to die...and only then, it was no doubt a good thing.

Nowadays the only place you could find a gremlin, if you were crazy enough to look for one, would be under heavy lock, key, and even heavier wards in the depths of the Department of Mysteries and only under constant guard.

Needles to say, had Harry known what it was, he would most likely have run away in terror. However, he did not. And so it was that he was looking at the creature and it was only a few meters away from him.

Deciding to act friendly and treat it as if it were a dog, thinking that since he was dead nothing could happen to him - a common misconception in the afterlife - Harry slowly moved towards the gremlin and slowly held out his hand to it.

He regretted it almost immediately. A short split second later his arm was torn off his new body and in the gremlin's mouth.

Wide-eyed and screaming as if the hell hounds of Hades were after him, Harry sprang away as fast as his feet could take him and practically sprinted to the other end of the room.

"Holy Shit!" he roared as he watched the Gremlin swallow his entire arm whole, in one bite.

For the first time, but not for the last, Harry was happy that he couldn't feel any pain anymore. One of the benefits of being dead. At least while he was in the afterlife. Once he was back on earth that would no doubt change again. For now however, he couldn't. Thank the heavens for that, he thought.

Freaked out by the sudden attack and the sudden loss of his arm, he looked at the place where his arm used to be. Then, the next thing he knew, he felt his arm slowly grow and reform back to where it had been moments before.

"Oookaaay… now that's freaky," he said to himself, still shocked and highly unnerved, yet impressed, not to mention highly relieved.

Looking at his new arm, while at the same time glancing nervously at the Gremlin, who now seemed extremely interested in him, he took another hurried step away.

Just then three more Gremlins appeared beside the first as if out of thin air. One second they weren't there, the next they seemed to phase in.

"Oh…OH! Oh No!...oh mama...HELP!" Harry said as he watched the Gremlins circle around him like predators hunting their cornered prey.

"Er…Hi!" he said next, stupidly, sweat rolling down his face, not knowing what else to do. There seemed to be no where to run.

Then, as one, all four of them attacked.

"Crap!...No!...Get off me...HELP! NO!...SHIT! NOOOO!" he said and could only watch in horror, as only a screwed person who knew he was screwed could, as multiple parts of his body were systematically torn apart and scattered all across the room.

For the next hour or two, Harry...or rather his head, could only watch as several Gravelings played a match of soccer with his severed body parts, his head included.

Too bad nobody mentioned to him that Gravelings also loved to play with new Reapers. It was a lesson Harry now learned the hard way as his head was kicked across the room.

It sure gave him an all new meaning to the phrase...'heads will roll'.

Back on earth, Police HQ, London central, a few minutes before Dumbledore arrival at the Dursleys

Chief Inspector David Gardener was not having a good day.

Nearly an hour ago he had received a call straight from the brass in Scotland yard and had been asked...more like ordered out of the warmth of his bed and the arms of his lady friend to go on an immediate emergency to some place called Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey.

The superintendent he has spoken to, while apologetic for ordering him around on his day off, had told him it was a severe case of child abuse. One of the worst types he had ever heard of and one which demanded nothing but the best to be sent. As such he was needed to take care of it.

Now, normally, a case of child abuse was nothing which would have required an Inspector, least of all a chief inspector to check it out... but for some reason the call had originated from high above (meaning a very high department in the government) and was a VIP operation of the highest rank possible. This made it important enough to send him and not just some other poor bloke.

Usually that wouldn't have annoyed David so much. Sometimes it simply was necessary to work long hours. And while it was irregular to send him, he wouldn't have minded...much. But today was not just any day. Today was his free day off, the first full day he had managed to get in several weeks and that made him very grumpy. A child was being abused somewhere, something which he hated even more than nearly anything else, except maybe rape and murder. David, for those who didn't know him, had been abused himself when he was younger and as such he really despised child abusers with a fiery passion.

Add to that that it had taken him days of hard work and even a few favours, all of which were now wasted, to get himself this evening off from his usually busy and overfilled time schedule - all due to the recent cuts in the police department...not to mention the fact that he was currently suffering from a severe case of 'blue balls' as he was enjoying the second act of an extremely enjoyable experience, with somebody really special when he received the urgent call, only made it that much worse.

He would have his revenge!

Horrible thoughts of what he would do to the abusers if he…No!…not if he, but when he caught them, were racing through his mind as he radioed for a few officers to follow him to Privet Drive in their squad cars. He would never forgive the abusers for ruining this special day for him. They would rue the day they messed with Chief Inspector David Gardener, the toughest and most feared cop in the district.

With a grim expression on his face David coasted his car up towards Privet Drive, several sirens blazing through the night's wind as several squad cars followed closely behind.

Nobody noticed an ethereal being smile from his chair as he watched Dumbledore deal with the Dursleys.

Back at the Dursleys, several long minutes after Dumbledore's entry, a few minutes before David's imminent arrival.

Dumbledore was red in the face and very annoyed.

For the past ten minutes he had been trying furiously to open the door of the cupboard, all with no success.

For some strange reason his unlocking charms had not worked on the lock. It had no key hole and as such most of the spells he knew were useless.

Unknown to Dumbledore, the lock was an electronic lock from the future, brought to the past by Chaos to thwart him. The moment, he tried a spell, multiple electronic circuits inside the lock had fused inside it, making it impossible to open the lock through normal means. Only an angle grinder, or another specialised cutting tool could have opened it now. Of course, Dumbledore, being a wizard, would never have thought of using a muggle tool and so he started using cutting spells instead, with no success.

Much to Dumbledores surprise the lock had survived a direct cut from a cutting curse from his normal wand. He even tried vanishing the lock several times... all with no success.

It was only after a small temper tantrum, after a failed septumsempra, that he had taken out the elder wand and had blasted the lock with an overpowered advanced dark cutting curse that the lock finally fell apart.

On his 7th try.

Seeing as the elder wand had been created by Death, it was strong enough to destroy Chaos's lock.

Never once had Dumbledore thought about vanishing the door itself.

Giving a cry of victory, Dumbledore finally proceeded to open the door. Only to see the one sight he did not want to see.

"DURSLEYYYYY!" roared Dumbledore, spit flying from his mouth, as he saw the stiff cold remains of the wizarding world's only supposed savior on the floor of the cupboard. It was clear the boy was long dead, that he had been dead for a while and that the Dursleys were the cause for it. Hearing him, the Dursleys squeaked in complete terror and frantically tried to break loose of their bindings with an overwhelming desire to run.

"What have you done!" Dumbledore bellowed again, real solid rage evident in his eyes as he walked back into the room. His magic was pounding across the room in waves and his aura was alight.

Vernon whimpered as he saw the look of complete and utter rage in the old man's eyes and would have bolted had he not been tied up. Moving with steps which clearly showed his anger, Dumbledore walked up to Vernon and grabbed the man by his hair. With a sudden movement he pulled the man's face closer to his, until they were nearly touching.

Up until now Dumbledore had not believed Harry to actually have died. That notion was now gone. To say that Dumbledore was furious would have been a grave understatement of the century. Mount Dumbledore was raging and it was ready to blow.

"I told you to abuse him, NOT TO KILL HIM, you imbecile," Dumbledore snarled angrily, giving the man a heart-wrenching deadly stare which caused Vernon to promptly follow in his son's footsteps and soil himself. Sickened by the man and the smell he was releasing, Dumbledore let go of him and let him fall to the ground with a wet sounding splat, leaving a foul stain where he landed.

"Disgusting!" said Dumbledore with aversion, looking at Vernon as if he were dirt on the ground before he turned and walked towards the door, his sole intention now set on leaving the house and to get away from these Muggles who called themselves civilized beings.

Even now, he was already mentally making alternate plans. He would have to alert certain factions to the unfortunate demise of the boy and then find a different pawn to take care of his problems.

Chaos, who had been enjoying the show, eating popcorn and enjoying the message from the beauty behind him, seeing that Dumbledore was leaving, took that moment to act. Making his voice sound as if it came from Vernon he said one word:


Halfway to the door, his eyes suddenly turning red with rage, Dumbledore stopped in his tracks. Thinking Vernon had said that last word, he turned around, red eyes blazing with even more fury. "You filthy, good for nothing muggle…" Vernon, seeing what was about to happen, cried out in alarm.

"Wait, that wasn't me…it wasn't me….NOOOO!"


In one swift moment, Dumbledore, having long forgotten that he was supposed to be a wise kind old man, a benign leader whom the world looked up to, had cast the strongest Crucio he knew. Immediately Vernon dropped to the floor and started to scream in utter excruciating agony, before he was quickly silenced forever when his brain literally blew up in a gory mess from the massively overpowered curse.

Horrified by her husband's demise, Petunia screamed - and with the unknown help of a certain god - suddenly, miraculously, found herself free from her bindings. In a sudden foolish courageous act of divine heroism, she grabbed a nearby vase and threw it at Dumbledore. To her great surprise she actually managed to score a lucky hit. The vase smashed against the old man's head which left him momentarily stunned. Dumbledore, taken by surprise, dropped his wand and collapsed to the floor.

Now, at this moment, Petunia should have done the wise thing and either should have grabbed her son and run or - like anybody would do to a dangerous criminal who wanted to kill you and your family - should have 'finished' the mad man off while he was down. That would have been known as self defense while under fear for your life. However, instead she ran to the gory remains of her now dead husband. A mistake, as just moments later Dumbledore was back on his feet, angrier than ever before.

Now sprouting a massive bruise on his head and a cut across his cheek, Dumbledore, who was now swearing like a sailor on a very bad day, lost no time in picking up his wand then casting the next curse, another crucio. Like her deceased husband Petunia dropped like a log, screaming.

Dudley, who had until that moment been too afraid to act, finding himself also free form his own bindings, promptly grabbed a knife from the table and then proceeded to stab Dumbledore into the inner thigh. This caused Dumbledore to howl in agony. Moments later Dudley was sprawling on the floor, sporting a red, rapidly bruising cheek and a split lip from where Dumbledore had backhanded him.

In all the commotion of the battle which took place inside the house, none of the four combatants noticed the arrival of a small heavily armed police task force, led by Chief Inspector Gardener. With a crash the door flew open and multiple heavily armed police officers stormed inside.

The first thing David saw as he entered the room was Dumbledore backhanding Dudley across the floor while also brandishing a stick in his other. The second was the motionless body of a woman, followed closely a second later by a headless body of a man who was obviously the boys father. That was all he needed to know. Not caring about why the man had done what he did, he advanced.

'Your ass is grass...and I'm the gardener,' Davis thought a grim look on his face.

A quick jab later David quickly grabbed the stick the old man and been waving around and snapped it, much to Dumbledore's utter horror.

A second jab into Dumbledores stomach saw the old man gasping for breath as he suddenly found it difficult to breath. After that Dumbledore soon found himself lying face down on the ground, his nose in the floors dust.

As he pushed Dumbledore further into the ground, David began to handcuff the old man.

The last thing Dumbledore knew before unconsciousness claimed him was the policeman reciting him his rights.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you..."

Nobody ever noticed a laughing god named Chaos cackling madly, pick up the remains of Dumbledores broken wand, then flash away.

Mischief managed!