Dumbledore paced to and fro beside the tree where the one called The Masked One had told him to wait if he were willing to exchange himself for the four children. Deep in his heart, Albus did not trust the Death Eater, but he felt he had no choice in the matter. If he could do anything to gain their release, he would do so. The wind blew cold and stark through the trees, and he clutched his quilted purple robe tighter about him. The chill from the Forbidden Forest wrapped about him like a cloak of frost, freezing him to the marrow. His beard wagged as he paced, unaccustomed to being kept waiting so long. It had been half-an-hour since he had arrived, half-an-hour since he had sent a reply to The Masked One.

The waiting was driving him mad.

He forced himself to be calm, to breathe in and out, to lean against the tree trunk and appear outwardly as if he were merely patiently awaiting the arrival of an old friend. Never had he found it so difficult to maintain that casual façade. The children. What could be happening to his children? He was a seething mass of nerves and he wished he had a Calming Draught. He felt the way he used to when he had sent Severus off to spy upon Voldemort. Except this was worse. Much worse. Severus had been a trained informant. The four children were innocent pawns in a deadly game that he should have made certain ended that night in the Department of Mysteries.

What will you sacrifice, Albus?

Once he would have blithely answered whatever he needed to.

Only that had been a lie too.

For he had sacrificed others to check Voldemort but had never really sacrificed himself.

He had been the king, overseeing all the pieces on the board, the puppet master in the shadows, pulling first one string then another.

Until now.

He felt a stirring in the air and knew that magic was being used close by. That had always been one of his talents, to sense magic in use, whether near or farther away, and also the type of magic, such as a conjuring or charm and whether it bore a dark taint. It had lead to some of his colleagues declaring he was all-knowing, though it was not true. He had encouraged that belief, however, because he knew it would make the dark wizards afraid, one in particular. Smoke and mirrors, old man. But that will not save you now, his thoughts mocked him. His clever subterfuge was at an end. The Hat should have put me in Slytherin, considering all of the deception I have practiced. Then again, it takes great courage to pretend to be something you're not. That made him think of Severus, who hid his compassion behind a wall of thorns, who pretended to follow evil at his behest, who risked all in the fulfillment of a promise made long ago to his beloved. And you used that love, Albus, used it to make him become the perfect agent and the protector to young Harry that you needed, his conscience rebuked.

He wished suddenly that he could apologize to the Potions Master, make amends, but there was no longer time. The sands in the hourglass had run out.

"So. You decided to show after all. How refreshingly noble."

Dumbledore turned, slowly, to face a tall black robed figure in an iron mask. The voice behind the mask was smooth, cultured, and filled with contempt. "I am here, as promised," the old wizard said shortly.

"Your wand, old man. Surrender it to me."

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and handed it to the figure with a short bow. "I shall render unto Caesar what is due," he replied flippantly.

There was a snort behind the mask. "Be careful, old one. Or Caesar shall cut off your head." The wand disappeared beneath the robe.

Dumbledore glanced around, and saw several other shadowy shapes further back in the trees. "Where are the children? You promised if I gave myself to you, they would be released."

"All in good time." The Masked One reached into a pocket and withdrew a shiny metal collar with a clasp at one end. "You know what this is, don't you?"

Dumbledore flinched, for the aura of darkness radiating from the collar was nearly tangible. "A Collar of Obedience."

"Yes." The other's voice was rich with satisfaction.

Ages ago, those collars had been forged by dark wizard seeking to bind rebellious apprentices and break them to their will. Once on, a wizard could perform no magic unless specifically directed by the one who had put the collar around his neck. He also could not disobey a direct order from his master. The binding spell used on the house elves was an offshoot of the way a Collar of Obedience operated.

The collars had been declared outlawed by the International Confederation of Wizards centuries ago. Anyone caught with one in their possession was subject to a fine, using it was guaranteed a trip to Azkaban.

"Lower your head," the Masked One hissed, approaching the elderly wizard.

For one instant there was a flicker of fear in the other's eyes. "You won't need that. I will do what you wish."

"Ha! As if I would trust you, old fox! This is insurance." He clasped the cold metal of the collar about Dumbledore's neck.

There was a flash of bluish light and the collar shrank to fit the old wizard.

"You know how this works, don't you?" purred the Masked One. "I give you a command and you do as I say. Any attempt to disobey will result in a great deal of pain. So I would suggest you behave yourself. Come."

Albus found his feet following the dark figure without conscious thought. That was how a Collar of Obedience operated. Sometimes a collar could be fought, but it was a rare wizard who could do so and endure the pain while trying to break the enchantment. In any case he knew he must not fight the collar just yet.

"Stop." The Death Eater ordered, halting just within the trees. "Now sleep, old man. Sleep and know nothing."

Dumbledore felt his eyelids grow heavy and he sank to the ground, asleep before his head touched the earth.

Behind the iron mask, Lucius gloated. Stage one of his plan was complete. Now for stage two.

He spoke a word and the Headmaster was levitated into the air and floated along behind him. Lucius turned and headed back towards the castle, to a certain stone outcropping. He touched the third stone in the sequence and it slid aside, revealing a tunnel twisting downwards.

He lit the tip of his wand, levitated the Headmaster through the entrance, then sealed the tunnel with another word. There were many passages into and out of Hogwarts. This one had only been used a handful of times, by the one who called himself the True Heir of Slytherin. It led to a warren of catacombs, but at the center of the web was the Chamber of Secrets.

* * * * * *

"Well, did you get him?" Bella demanded as soon as Lucius had returned to their new base beneath the school. There were several unused rooms below ground, it was almost like a self-sustaining complex. There was even plumbing and lavatories and running water. Lucius had explained that this had been built in case the castle were under siege and the wizards needed somewhere safe to hide back in the days when wizards were hunted by the Inquisition and magic-hating Muggles.

"He is our guest in the stone prison," Lucius said calmly. The stone prison, it had been discovered, was made to contain magical prisoners, and prevented wizards from drawing on their powers while they were within it.

Bella, who was wearing her slinky red dress, rubbed her hands together and looked like a child who had just received the best birthday present ever. "Oh goody! When can I start in on him?"

Lucius shook his head. "Patience, Bellatrix. Let the old fox settle in first. How are the children? Still asleep from the potion we put in their water?"

The curly-haired woman nodded, her pouting lips curled into a vicious sneer. "If you don't want me to play with Dumbledore, can I play with them?" she whined.

Lucius scowled. "If you're bored, go out and find a Muggle. There's no shortage of them. But we need the children as bargaining leverage, to keep Dumbledore behaving."

"What for? You have him collared, right?"

"You and I know that if he chose, he could break the collar's control. He's strong enough." Lucius reminded her. "That's insurance to keep him docile. But the real threat is what we'll do to his precious students unless he cooperates. And they must be kept untouched. Just in case."

"You're no fun, Luc," she pouted, like a five-year-old denied a sweet before dinnertime. Her mercurial personality shifted like the wind, and often frustrated and frightened the blond wizard, for she was unpredictable and dangerous.

Lucius did not trust her in the slightest and was careful to keep her on a tight leash. "Where's Pettigrew?"

"Don't know. The little rat is always sneaking about somewhere." Bella shrugged.

Lucius's mouth tightened. He disliked Wormtail and didn't trust him either. The man was a coward who would sell his own skin for profit.

"Go, Bella, amuse yourself until Dumbledore wakes up. There will be plenty of chances for you to play with him later."

He strode away, going to check up on their other hostages and then see Narcissa for dinner. In three days it would be the dark of the moon, the time when the dark powers were at their peak and he wished to perform the ritual then.

* * * * * *

Later:

Dumbledore didn't know how long he was within the cramped stone cell upon the straw pallet. The cell was ten by six square foot and he could feel the walls pressing down on him even though he knew that was impossible. There was something in these stones . . .some kind of magic inhibitor . . .he felt as if he were smothering, his magic was being crushed . . .

He took a deep breath, admonishing himself to stop making a mountain out of a molehill. He was not suffocating, not going to pass out, there were no black spots dancing before his eyes.

He made himself get to his feet and paced his cell. Around and around he paced, trying to unstiffen his aging bones. He hoped that one of the Death Eaters would come soon, he wished to speak with them about the children, ask to see them, if possible.

But minutes trickled by into hours and still Albus was left alone.

Finally, two hours or perhaps later, the door to the stone cell creaked open, and Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room, his arm about Hermione Granger.

"See, Dumbledore, one of your students." He had his arm tight about the girl and his wand pressed against her back. "Tell the Headmaster that you are unharmed, girl."

"Sir, I'm . . .okay," Hermione managed to get out. She could feel her eyes swim with tears that she refused to let fall. Then she cried, in a burst of inspiration, "Don't give up, sir! Whatever they tell you, don't give in."

"That's enough, girl!" Lucius snarled, twisting her arm. Hermione cried out.

"Lucius, is that really necessary?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes flashing.

"It is when she tries to incite a rebellion. If you don't want to see her hurt, you'll do whatever I say."

The older wizard paled. "But the agreement was that if I surrendered myself to you, you would let the children go."

"Was it? I don't remember wording it quite that way," Lucius said with a malicious smile.

"You hardly need them now that you have me-a much more powerful wizard. Do as you promised, Lucius, and let them go."

Lucius looked right at him and bared his teeth like a shark. "No. I lied. Now deal with it." Then he put his wand to Hermione's temple and said, "Obliviate!"

"Stop! What are you doing?"

"Making sure she doesn't remember you're here. That way she'll be more biddable." He laughed. Then he dragged the half-asleep girl out the door and back to the room where the teens all shared beds and a few other necessities.

He shoved her roughly into the room, letting the other teenagers catch her before she fell.

"What did you do to her, bastard?" Vince shouted, catching her neatly.

"Quiet, brat! I'll do the same to you if you don't watch your tongue!" Lucius snapped.

Then he locked the door and strode back up the hallway to the stone cell.

He found Albus sitting upon the straw pallet, looking rather befuddled and serene. Lucius bared his teeth in a fake smile. "Now, Headmaster, are you willing to cooperate, or shall I be forced to . . .do something unpleasant?"

Albus smiled blandly. "What is it you wish from me?"

"Your magic, old fox. All of it. Every last drop. That should be plenty to bring the Dark Lord back from the dead."

"So sorry, Mr. Malfoy, that I cannot accommodate you."

"Ah. Can't you? You will, Albus Dumbledore." He stepped back and beckoned with his left hand. "Come with me. We'll perform a few . . .tests."

Compelled, Albus got to his feet and followed.

Lucius led him to a small room where Bella was waiting.

She licked her lips when she saw him.

Inside the room was a low steel table with a white cloth over it. Next to the table were an array of instruments and something which looked a Iron Maiden, a set of thumbscrews, and other things.

"Hello, Dumbledore," she purred. "Welcome to my humble abode. Care to stay for tea?" She threw back her head and laughed, a high wild sound with madness lingering in it.

"Get on the table and stay put." Lucius ordered and Albus obeyed.

"What a charming place you've got here, Bella," Albus said conversationally.

"Isn't it?" she grinned. "And you will become intimately familiar with it, old man." She began to skip about the table, her wand out. "I'm going to have some f-u-u-n!" She whirled and pointed her wand directly at his heart. "But . . .I promised Luc I wouldn't break you . . .at least not yet. Still, it'll be fun to play with you." She laughed maniacally. "Fun! Fun! Fun! Crucio!"

* * * * * * *

Much later:

He lay where he had fallen in the stone cell, shivering uncontrollably, his body wracked with spasms. He had never felt such agony in his life and he felt his mind spinning away in self-defense, seeking solace in old memories. But just when he reached a happy memory, he would feel a sharp stab of pain that would throw him right back into the present again.

He had no idea how long Bellatrix had used the Cruicatus on him, but that was not what had reduced him to a state of shock. No, that had come later, when Lucius had used some kind of odd dark curse to suck the magic from him. Even though he had not resisted much, the curse had wracked him with pain, tearing the magic from him in short sharp bursts. Very quickly he had gone hoarse from screaming, and he could only watch as Malfoy stored the magic that was his life into three glowing crystal shards.

"Crystals are excellent for storing psychic energy, and also magical energy," Lucius had said, lecturing as though he were in a classroom.

Dumbledore had been nearly passed out by then.

Slowly he raised his head, gritting his teeth at the wave of pain that simple movement gave him. Now he understood better what Severus had gone through all those times he had attended Death Eater meetings. Oh, now he understood all too well, and he wished dearly he did not. Severus . . .I thought I knew what it was to have the curse on me for a few minutes . . .but this . . .I knew nothing . . .

Slow tears trickled out of his eyes, tears of pain and guilt and remorse, and the terrible cold knowledge that he had sent the man back to such horror, over and over. How could I have been so callus, so selfish? I was blind . . .blind to all but the Glorious Cause . . .I was blind, but now I see . . .

He managed to crawl a few inches, stretching out his hand for the tiny cup of water they had placed beside him. It was warm, just enough to wet his throat, but it tasted as good as an ice cold ale.

Then he slumped down, that simple act exhausting him.

Even worse, he felt his magic begin to return, slowly but surely, it trickled back. For the first time ever, he cursed the other special ability he had been born with-that of swift magical replenishment. It was that ability that had given rise to the legend that he was the most powerful wizard alive, that his strength had no limits. That was not so, it only seemed so, because he could recover from spells that would exhaust or kill an ordinary wizard, his magic replenishing itself at ten times the rate of a normal practitioner. It had enabled him to defeat younger wizards, such as Voldemort, and Grindelwald as well. But now his greatest blessing was about to become his greatest curse.

Because the quicker he recovered, the sooner they could go back to wrenching his magic away.

Dumbledore trembled. Then his eyes closed and he slept.

* * * * * *

What followed was a nightmare of black and red accompanied by pain that never ceased, or at least not for long. One by one, the children were paraded before him, so he could see for himself that Lucius was keeping his end of the bargain. And then they were Obliviated and he was forgotten. Occasionally, Lucius gave him a Pain Reliever so he could get some sleep, and be well rested for their next session.

Sometimes Lucius used other methods to wear down his resistance, like putting a plate full of hot food and a cold glass of ale in front of him and ordering him to sit there and not move, knowing that Albus had not eaten in . . .hours, days, he had lost track of time.

Salivating uncontrollably, he had been forced to stare at the food, knowing it was but a single handsbreadth away, but not daring to disobey the command or else risk the collar administering a sharp lesson. He had closed his eyes, recalling Harry's voice telling him that sometimes his relatives wouldn't feed him for days, and then let him out only to cook meals for them which he was forbidden to eat.

His stomach pinched and cried out for sustenance and once more he wept tears of regret for the boy he had sent home year after year to cruel abusive people. At the time he had thought it necessary, never realizing the torture it was to see food and be forbidden to eat when you were starving.

Desperate after an hour or so, he had tried to reach for the plate and draw it to him, but the movement set off the collar and its sharp shock sent pain coursing through him until he stopped reaching and remained still.

You have never known what it means to be helpless, Albus, Severus had accused him once after returning from a meeting badly injured. Never known what it's like to simply lie there and be forced to endure pain and humiliation because you cannot do anything to prevent it. To know that you might die . . .and hope for it . . .because it is easier to die than to survive . . .You feel pity for me, sure, but you cannot know what it's like. You were always the Golden One . . .

Those words seared him like a brand. But he could not deny them. He had led a life of wealth and privilege growing up, he was the eldest and the favored brilliant son, with Aberforth and Ariana left to get the scraps. In school, he was regarded as a wonderful student, always with top marks, always outperforming his peers, popular and well-liked. He had enjoyed school, playing pranks and having fun with his friends, especially Gellert Grindelwald, whom he had met in his seventh year. Only twice did tragedy touch him, once when he was thirteen and his father had been arrested and died in Azkaban for assaulting and killing some Muggle boys who had hurt his little sister, and many years later his mother had passed away suddenly.

Ariana . . .how I regret your death. But even then, I managed to turn that to my advantage, and cast all the blame upon Gellert, when it was my fault too, for returning to him and thinking I could reform him . . .And after he died, I was hailed as the greatest wizard alive, because Nicholas and I had discovered the Philosopher's Stone and defended it from Gellert's mad scheme to become immortal.

After that, all doors had been open to him. He had worked for the Ministry for a time, been hailed as the next Minister of Magic, respected and beloved, even the media had nothing bad to say about him.

Then came Tom, my other huge mistake . . .and yet even there I ended up coming up smelling like roses as the Muggles say. For Harry ended up defeating him and my reputation was still untarnished.

He lay with his cheek pressed against the cold stone floor of the cell and knew at last what fear was, not the kind of fear that you feel when you face down a dementor, or have a nightmare, but the kind of gut-wrenching fear that comes of not knowing what will become of you, not knowing if you will be alive to see the next dawn, that your fate was in the hands of monsters, and there was nothing you could do to prevent it.

Despair was an acrid taste upon his tongue, desolation a silent companion in the stone cell. Fear sat upon his shoulders like a black beast, hissing and mocking.

Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of his time, lay upon the floor and prayed for rescue, for his magic was nearly gone and he was terrified the next session would shatter what little he had left. May Merlin forgive me, Severus. . .Severus, please . . .help me . . .! Destroy the Horcruxes, my brave hawks . . .let me know that the threat is ended forever . . .and then I can go to my rest . . .Forgive me, Harry . . .forgive me, Severus . . .

He breathed in shallow gasps and drifted in a kind of haze, unaware of the rat observing from the corner.

Poor Master Dumbledore! Now at last you know what you put my Master through! Wormtail thought furiously. How does it feel, O Great One, to be at the mercy of Bellatrix? What, no clever response, no all-knowing wisdom? The rat bared his teeth at the comatose wizard. Serves you right, old coot! It's only fitting that you, who killed my Lord, be the one to bring him back from beyond the Veil.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and Wormtail scurried to hide under the straw pallet as the stone cell was unlocked and Lucius walked in to perform a few elementary healing charms upon the Headmaster, not wanting his subject to die before the ritual.

"Soon, old man, there will be a final reckoning," murmured the Death Eater. "Your magic is overflowing in my crystals and when I have wrung the last drop dry, during the ritual, my Master shall return and then you will kneel before him, Albus Dumbledore. Soon . . ."

* * * * * *

He floated in a place outside of himself, somewhere that the pain could not follow. It was a place of light, shimmering and flickering like rainbows dancing upon a cerulean sky. It soothed and refreshed him, and his weary hurting spirit found solace in the golden light that caressed him.

He opened his eyes and looked about. The light dazzled and hurt his eyes at first, but when he blinked and squinted he saw two misty figures before him. One was his beloved sister, Ariana. The other was Lily Potter. Both women were transparent, but he could recognize them clearly in spite of it.

"Ariana? Little sister, is it really you?" he stared at her in shock. "Have I . . .died?"

She shook her head, her golden curls bouncing over her shoulders, just as he remembered. "No, Al. You're still alive, but you've projected yourself here into the Garden of Forever."

"The Garden of Forever?"

"Yes. It is a place where everything that grows upon the earth flourishes and those who have had untimely deaths dwell until they can be reborn. Like me. And Lily." She waved a hand at her companion.

"Hello, Lily," Dumbledore turned to greet the fiery witch.

"Hello, Albus. We've come to you now to give you hope."

"Hope. But I am in the darkest place of all." Albus said, despair choking him. "There is no help for me."

"Not so, Al." Ariana said serenely. "There is always hope, even in the midst of darkness. That is when hope burns the clearest, like a bright flame in the shadows. Remember why you did this, Al."

"I remember, Ariana. To save the children."

"Yes, the children. Like my Harry." Lily reminded him gently, her green eyes bright with worry.

Albus's face crumpled. "I'm so sorry, Lily. I made a terrible mistake, I left him with your sister . . .and she . . .was not kind to him . . I am sorry for the prophecy as well . . ."

She held up a hand. "That is done, Albus. You cannot change the past, only move forward. You say you regret what you have done and need to redeem yourself."

"Yes, I do."

"Then you must master your fear," Ariana said.

"How?"

"Look within yourself, Albus, and see the fear for what it is."

"I am afraid . . .that I will fail and my sacrifice be in vain. That they will kill the children before . . .before they can be rescued."

"That was my fear too," Lily said. "But when the moment came, I gave up my life willingly, and in that pure sacrifice I defeated Voldemort's spell. True courage is not fear's absence, but the mastery of fear."

"And in order to master fear you must acknowledge it and then go beyond it," Ariana explained. "That's always been your flaw, Al. You like to be in control. Always. But sacrifice is about surrender. Surrender yourself and your sacrifice will protect your students."

"But . . .I did that."

Lily shook her head. "No, you didn't. You made a bargain. It's not the same. A true sacrifice must give up everything and expect nothing in return."

Albus bowed his head. "I understand."

Ariana came and hugged him. "Don't be afraid, Al. There's always a light in the darkness. And those whom you love return to you."

"In one form or another," Lily said wryly. She too came and hugged him. "It's time to go back, Albus. You cannot stay. Remember what we told you."

"Goodbye, Al! We love you!" Ariana said.

An instant later they were gone and he was waking up in the cold dank cell. Only this time it did not fill him with dread. Instead he managed to sit up, resolutely ignoring the myriad aches and pains, and began the first stages of meditation, going deep within himself to face his fears and free himself.