The Dimensional Portal

"As such, it's my near-certain belief you've pulled the whole 'he is dark' thing out of your arse; just as Professor Lupin implied. Further, I firmly believe you've only labelled him dark because he has what you covet, the Potter fortune.

"When you've been asked why you believe Lord Peverell to be dark, you throw a tantrum like a whiny little school girl and declare that everyone should just do as you say and believe what you tell. You demand everyone inform you of everything, but flatly refuse to share any information out.

"Do you know what that makes you, Dumbledore? As per the Oxford dictionary, the premiere qualifier of almost every single word in the English language, you are defined as a megalomaniac. Your words and actions are all neatly described by the description of that word in the Dictionary.

"So, am I going to put up with it any more?" He sighed, "No; I'm done! You want Riddle dead? Go find the real Chosen One. I've already figured out it won't be me."

Without even waiting for anyone to say anything, he spun about and walked out.

Everyone, including Dumbledore, were stunned speechless.

As the swinging double doors of the infirmary swung shut, McGonagall whirled on Dumbledore and snarked, "Congratulations... my boy... you may have just killed us all. All because you happen to find pleasure in being blatantly rude to people."

Then she too spun about and walked out. "Is it now we applaud you, Mister Dumbledore?" the auror smarmingly asked, as McGonagall stalked off.

Dumbledore scowled, looked away and said, "Thank you, that will be all."

"Oh, how won-derful!" the auror again snarked. "Thank you, ever so much.

"It's so nice of you to give us permission to leave. Have you forgotten we are here against your wishes? Or that what you want is irrelevant to us?" He then chuckled and removed the privacy wards McGonagall had thrown up. After a gesture to his partner to follow, he then walked back to the main doors."

It wasn't until then that Dumbledore realised no one, including himself, had done anything about the stinging coming from his cheek where Longbottom's mild stinging hex had tagged him. He raised his wand and fixed it himself. Later that day he again tried to send for Longbottom via messenger Patronus.

A few minutes after sending it, the large brown bear of Longbottom's own Patronus lumbered into the room, stood up and - in Longbottom's voice - said, "Go fuck yourself!" Before then fading out.

The aurors snickered.

Members of the detail weren't supposed to make any sort of remark or imply any sort of mindset when on guard duty such as this. However, the entire guard detail on Dumbledore really didn't care if he, the detainee, was offended or not; not any more. And they knew they'd not be hauled over the coals for it, once word reached Hammer or the Minister, Bones.

Down in Grimmauld Place, except for the morning for Harry and Luna the day was planned a quiet one for the residents. Harry, from long experience while he fought a year-and-a-half-long war with the Jaffa was feeling more than magically recovered by the time he went to bed. He was just physically tired at the time. 'Was it an eighteen-month-long war?' he wondered. 'Or, was it far longer and I just didn't know?'

That would be something to try and figure out later, if he could be bothered going through his memories to determine how many on-planet days it occupied.

The next morning, feeling refreshed... and, yet again, sexually sated... Harry and Luna joined Sirius and, low and behold, both Tonks and Remus.

"Good morning," he said, which Luna echoed half a second behind.

"Morning, you two," said Sirius.

Harry could see the look of surprise on Tonks's face, but not on Remus's. If anything, Remus was trying to hide a smirk. 'Damned werewolves,' he thought. 'Them and their bloody noses.'

As the two sat at what had become their normal places at the table, Harry at the foot and Luna to his immediate right, Sirius asked, "Plans for today?"

"Back to Harrods," said Luna. "Harry needs to pick up his custom-made business suit and the rest of the stuff that goes with it he left with the suit maker making the suit.

"After that, he needs to go back to the Alley to be seen. There'll be no Dumbledore to interfere this time, though. However, we won't hang around very long. I need to go in and organise a subscription for Harry with the Daily Prophet. And a trip to Madam Primpernelle's for Sleek-Ezy, also for Harry."

"Then, back here for lunch," added Harry. "Then I want to try and lay out something of a teaching schedule for you lot for this afternoon."

After their visit back to Harrods to pick up his suit, with Luna using the opportunity to buy more of what would be appropriate muggle to wear if she accompanied Harry to a business function, the pair moved to an out of the way place and had Dobby take their bags back to Grimmauld Place.

Then they headed for the Leaky via muggle means, a cab, and entered through the front door of the pub.

Harry was on the lookout for any of Dumbledore's or Riddle's minions as they entered, but didn't see any.

Moving through the pub, out the back door and on through the magical portal, he asked Luna, "Where to, Love?" "The offices of the Daily Prophet first," she replied. "Let's get your subscription organised and see what we can do from there."

With a nod he said, "Can you lead the way? I have no idea where it is."

She smiled back and did just that.

As soon as they walked into the nondescript building the woman sitting behind the long counter, the only true furnishing on their side of it, took one look at him, gawked and ran out through a door behind the counter.

"Am I that frightening?" he asked his girlfriend.

"Oh no, Harry," she grinned back. "I'm a senior journalist for their rival, The Quibbler. She's gone to alert the staff I'm in the building."

He grinned and was about to say something when the woman was back. She was leading Skeeter. "Ah, Lord Peverell," she smarmed. "How wonderful to see you."

With a flat looked back he just said, "Uhh-huh." It was so obvious that Harry didn't believe her, the simpering expression on Skeeter's face slipped for only a moment before it was back.

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