A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 647 The Consequences of Not Speaking
Inside the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, the Pensieve glowed softly as Dumbledore finished reading Fletcher's informative report.

His brows were furrowed, and his eyes behind his glasses were sharp as knives, as if they could pierce through space to see what Voldemort was thinking.

The Death Eaters are also searching for "a boy's mother," and the timing matches up—isn't that too much of a coincidence?

Dumbledore remained silent for a long time, wanting to ask Snape for some information, but his intuition told him not to mention it to him.

Ultimately, he made a decision: he had to capture Antonin Dolokhov and pry him open.

A few days later, the rain continued.

The Leek Tavern seemed no different from usual, except for a subtle change in the air.

When the wooden door was pushed open again, and Dolokhov's tall figure, damp with sweat, appeared in the doorway, the "boss" behind the bar paused almost imperceptibly in his wiping of the glasses.

"Any news?" Dolokhov walked straight to the bar, his voice still steady, but if you listened carefully, you could detect a hint of urgency.

The "boss" looked up, gave an apologetic smile, and said, "Sir, this is not something you should inquire about..."

Before he finished speaking, something strange happened!

The "driver" next to him, who had been slumped over the table and appeared drunk, suddenly raised his hand and fired a silent, precise stun spell.

Almost simultaneously, the "Glasses Guy" sitting in the corner reading the newspaper and the "Barber" playing darts also suddenly launched an attack, with several red beams of binding spells striking Dolokhov like lightning!

He couldn't even fully draw his wand before he was firmly bound and slammed to the ground, his eyes filled with shock and rage.

The entire operation was swift and efficient, taking only two or three seconds.

Deep beneath 12 Grimmauld Place, in a damp, musty-smelling dungeon, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion began to wear off, revealing the true faces of Kingsley Shackleton and other members of the Order of the Phoenix beneath.

Dolokhov was chained to the cold stone wall, with only a torch providing a faint light, casting a distorted shadow on the wall.

Blake and Lupin have been interrogating people here for several hours.

They tried everything – stern threats, calm reasoning, mind control, even limited physical coercion – but Dolokhov remained as stubborn as a rock, clenching his teeth and uttering not a word except for a fierce glare and the occasional cold laugh.

His fearless attitude only further confirmed the crucial importance of the information he possessed.

“It seems conventional methods won’t work on him.” Blake wiped the sweat from his face and whispered to Lupin, his voice echoing in the dungeon, “We’ll have to take him to ‘that place’.”

Upon hearing this, Lu Ping trembled almost imperceptibly, a mixture of fear and resistance flashing across his face.

Are you sure, Sirius?

"Isn't that place...too...cruel?"

At that moment, Arthur Weasley and Mundungus also came in, bringing Black and Lupin a late-night snack.

Hearing their conversation, Arthur's face showed reluctance, and he said, "Sirius, sending that guy there... wouldn't that be too inhumane?"

His innate kindness made him uncomfortable with this approach.

Fletcher shrank back, his face filled with fear, and chimed in, "That's right! That place is terrifying!"

"I'd rather go back to Azkaban for a few more days!"

Blake scratched his head in frustration and yelled, "I know that's not good, so tell me, what other way is there to get a Death Eater who can endure the Cruciatus Curse to talk?" "We don't have time! This is the fastest, the most... civilized way!"

Arthur opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but seeing Dolokhov's unyielding attitude, he finally sighed heavily, nodded helplessly, and even looked at Dolokhov with a hint of pity.

Fletcher glanced at Dolokhov and said reluctantly, "You'd better tell me now, or you won't be able to later."

Locked to the wall, Dolokhov maintained a calm and indifferent demeanor on the surface, but inside he was panicking terribly.

"That place"?
Dolokhov couldn't help but search his memory. What other secret interrogation sites of the Order of the Phoenix did he have that were even more terrifying than the Cruciatus Curse, and that even the slovenly thief and the usually honest redhead looked terrified at the mere mention of them?

The unknown fear began to gnaw at his nerves.

Black and the others no longer hesitated. They used a special method to temporarily imprison Dolokhov's magic, ensuring that he could not even cast the simplest spells.

Then they put a large Muggle coat on him to cover the restraints on his hands, stuffed him into an inconspicuous car, and drove off to London.

The car eventually stopped on an ordinary Muggle street.

Dolokhov was somewhat reluctantly led into a bright and clean-looking dental clinic.

The pungent smell of disinfectant made him frown.

The waiting room was filled with the latest magazines, and a box of sugar-free gummies sat on the table; everything seemed so ordinary.

But to the wizard, the numerous detailed diagrams of tooth structure on the wall exuded an indescribable eeriness.

Especially when a child's heart-wrenching cry came from behind that door, Dolokhov became even more nervous.

The door opened, and a child with a deathly pale face walked out. Dolokhov could assure you that the child had just experienced something terrible.

Behind the child was a kind-looking middle-aged man wearing a white coat, mask, and glasses. When he came out, Blake went up to him and whispered a few words to him.

After listening, Mr. Granger turned his gaze to Dolokhov, and his eyes behind his glasses instantly flashed with an indescribable, almost fanatical light—the excitement of a top professional encountering a highly challenging "case."

"Oh! Another real wizard patient! A full checkup and treatment are needed?" His voice trembled slightly with excitement. "Excellent! I've always wanted to study the potential effects of magic on tooth enamel and periodontal tissues!"

"Rest assured, I will use the most advanced technology to ensure that every tooth receives the best possible care!"

Dolokhov looked into Mr. Granger's eyes, which shone with the light of scientific exploration, listened to the slight hum of the drill as it warmed up, and glanced at the shiny, oddly shaped metal instruments on the cart next to him. A chill ran from his tailbone straight to the top of his head.

He thought of the knife and fork used when eating steak, which was more bizarre and more horrifying than any torture he had previously imagined.

Blake noticed Dolokhov's sudden pallor, leaned over, and with a mischievous smile, patted the fierce Death Eater on the shoulder, saying in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Dolokhov, you're an Azkaban, don't embarrass yourself."

"Yes, be more alert."

"Good, well done."

As they spoke, Dolokhov was pressed onto the cold treatment chair, his hands, feet, and head firmly fixed in place. The blinding light of the operating lamp made it impossible for him to open his eyes, but his eyelids could not be closed even slightly due to the magic.

When Mr. Granger held up a probe with a small hook and enthusiastically explained to him that "this is just a simple probe, it won't be too uncomfortable," the Death Eater, who had never been truly subdued even by Dementors, felt for the first time a strong urge to immediately confess.

However, he can't speak now without Mr. Granger's permission.

(End of this chapter)