However, by the remarks of their Boss and later reports in the Daily Prophet, very few did not figure out the asset was Dumbledore. But, no one said a word. That way, they might 'think' or 'suspect' it was Dumbledore; but they didn't 'know' it was Dumbledore.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
Monday morning's mail drop at Hogwarts also saw the delivery of the workout/fitness clothes for the Heirs. They were carried by Sable, Sirius's owl. And, it wasn't until Harry realised they'd needed to have been shrunk to be sent, he realised he hadn't asked Sirius to drop around to do that.
However, the included letter from Monica told him they'd already thought of it and contacted Sirius by floo to come and do it for them. He was happy to do so and also loaned his owl to get it done.
He must've let out a noise, or it was just his expression, that had Hermione asking him, "What's wrong, Harry?"
"I had another daft moron moment," he sighed.
"When?" she asked.
"I forgot your mother would need Sirius or some other magical to both shrink the clothes for her and use an owl to send them to us," he sighed.
She smirked back and said, "Harry, my parents are not... as you put it... daft morons. They were more than capable of figuring that out for themselves."
"Which they did," he replied. "But, I should have still thought of it."
"We both should have," she replied. "Especially, me."
When he gave a her a slight look of confusion, she explained, "I've been receiving owl mail from my parents here for more than three years. Up until they were introduced to other magicals who could help them, they've had to go into Diagon Alley to send me anything. Anything that needed shrinking before it could be sent was done by the Owl Post Office.
"That's why I should have thought of that and suggested Sirius. I've had prior experience; you have not."
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
Harry's letter to Bones - which she'd received that morning - at first had her wanting to ignore it. However, as usual, she could find no fault in his reasoning.
'Damn him, for that,' she thought.
So, on the Monday morning and as soon as she entered her office she immediately gathered her Masters and informed them she'd be scaling back the search for Dumbledore and why. And none of them could fault the logic, either.
"So, we do nothing?" asked Robards.
"No," she replied. "We put the word out to our criminal informants and other information sources that we're looking for the 'old fairy', but they're only to tell us as soon as they see him that they've seen him and where.
"Sooner or later, without a house elf, he has to come out of hiding to buy food. Logic dictates he won't come into the wizarding world to do that, so he'll try to shop... or steal... in the muggle world."
"He could get a house elf," said Proudfoot. "Whoever helped break him out could either loan him one, rent him one or even buy him one."
"I'll have an investigator go question the house elf purchase and rental agencies," said Moody. "He or someone else might have already been in. If they haven't, they might yet."
"Good idea," she nodded. She also gave a nod to Proudfoot for the idea.
"What makes you so sure he'll remain in wizarding Britain, Ma'am?" asked another.
"There's... something... here he desperately wants. It's one of a kind. At the moment he can't get it because it's behind some pretty powerful wards," she explained. "However, that... item... has to come out from behind those wards soon and we believe he's just waiting for an opportunity to grab th- it."
"If we know what the item is, can we not set all manner of both protection and traps upon it or the area it's in?" asked yet another.
"That's being worked on," replied Bones. "For a start, protections are being increased. However, we don't want to do too much as we don't want to tip the old fool off that we know he wants to make a try for hi- it.
"Any more, people?" she asked, mentally urging them to keep going with the ideas. "There are no bad ideas here. I want them all, no matter how far-fetched they might sound or how silly you may think them to be."
"What about Potter's suggestions?" asked Proudfoot. "Send him tracked owl mail, send him a house elf carrying a charmed letter, try scrying... ummm―"
Bones mentally sighed again. 'Dammit!'
"All good ideas and ones the rest of us should have also had," she said, picking up a parchment-based pad and an ever-inked quill off her desk. "Keep them coming."
"If an elf can find him, use an elf to pop someone directly to him?" asked Robards. "I saw Potter do that, once." Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and said, "No. Instead, have an elf find him and then pop him to us."
Bones froze for a moment before she slowly developed a pained expression and allowed her monocle to fall to the length of its chain. Then she brought her off-hand up to massage the bridge of her nose.
Robards, feeling a little sheepish said, "Errr... Sorry?"
Not moving her hand from massaging her nose bridge, Bones quietly said, "Don't apologise for that idea, Gawain. It's a bloody brilliant one. I, too, have seen someone popped by house elf through wards. It was in this very office, at that; young Heir Longbottom. As such I, too, should have thought of that."
Letting her hand fall away she said, "Someone go down to the holding cells and prep one for the old man. As soon as it's set up I'll send an elf or two to go and capture the old bastard."
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
Immediately after the fire-side, Croaker returned to the bare interrogation room alongside Dumbledore's new cell. In effect, it was a cell, too; just one where everything had been stripped out and replaced with the single desk, the desk chair, the paintings and the Truth Chair.
The Spectral Threat Team, plus the specialist Legilimencers, were already waiting.
Looking around, Croaker discovered everything right as he wanted it.
With a nod of satisfaction, he simply said, "Bring him."
Dumbledore was brought in minutes later. He was again manacled with his hands behind his back and with the plain black bag pulled over his head and down to his elbows.
Uncaring, his two 'handlers' dumped him into the chair, ensuring his hands were through the small gap between the back of the chair and the seat. The bag was yanked off his head and he was charmed stuck to the chair through the activation of a rune on its back.
As soon as he was ready, Scimitar gave Croaker a nod and stepped away to stand with his back against the wall.
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