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Dumbledore: chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-09-15 13:40:20 +0000 UTC[Poppy Pomfrey POV]
Poppy was exhausted. She hadn't been able to get much sleep for the past week. Being Hogwarts'—and by extension, Albus's—primary healthcare medi-witch guaranteed her a week-long insomnia fueled by anxiety, uncertainty, and fear.
Albus's situation was bizarre. By all means, he should have woken up hours after his arrival in the infirmary—and that was her being generous. His body was already healed. No, actually, it was better than healed. It was changed. He was far stronger than any human had the right to be, and that was without even considering his apparent bodily rejuvenation and age regression.
She had used every kind of scanning spell imaginable, even researching, studying, and practicing new ones just to verify the feedback she was getting. Because no matter how consistent the results were, they remained utterly unbelievable.
*Who'd believe that a human body could get that strong? And what kind of effects will this change bring?…*
Questions—all kinds of questions—plagued her thoughts. Couldn't he just wake up and answer some of them?
She exhaled sharply, violently scrubbing the already-clean bedpan, a noise that scared off a first-year girl tentatively approaching the medical wing. Poppy couldn't really bring herself to care right now.
The news of Dumbledore's condition was already worldwide news. If people hadn't believed it at first—because, to the average wizard, Dumbledore might as well be immortal—they did now. That initial disbelief had bought them about two days of relative peace, giving Amelia and her block of politicians some time to think of something.
Apparently, those two days weren't enough because they hadn't managed to do a damn thing with them. The people were still panicking, and everyone and their mother wanted to know what had happened and why Dumbledore hadn't woken up yet.
They couldn't lie about it either. The new term had started, and Dumbledore's absence from the Opening Feast was a screaming headline in itself. The news traveled fast. It was like every student had turned into a junior reporter, owl-ing home every rumor. Though she couldn't fault them for it. Albus was always present during the first and last feast… always. No matter what.
'Maybe we could have tried something to hide it better,' she asked herself, 'an excuse of some kind? But that wouldn't have worked, not when the people were already suspicious and just needed confirmation.'
She sighed as she felt a new wave of warm energy wash over her. There was that, too, wasn't there… the "healing magic wave," as the masses had dubbed it, had now reached almost all of Britain.
They couldn't tell the mechanics behind it, just that each wave seemed to push the one before it a little bit further. It was one of the reasons almost everyone around the world was paying attention, as opposed to the usual politicians and people in power.
Tap. Tap.
Hoot!
She jumped a little at the noise coming from the window. She turned her head and saw a barn owl—her barn owl, Pippy—giving her an unimpressed look. She shook her head in exasperation as she flicked her wand, opening the window. Her owl swooped in, dropped the new issue of The Daily Prophet, turned around, and left…
'Yeah, that's what I was missing… being sassed by my own owl…' She shook her head as she held the newspaper. She had never hated a wizard's right to speak more than she did now. She didn't voice her thoughts, though; she just held the paper and started reading the headlines and snippets… she couldn't handle more than that…
—————————-
THE DAILY PROPHET
Wizarding Britain's Primary News Source Since 1932
1 GALLEON per 3-month subscription.
---
EXCLUSIVE
WHERE IS DUMBLEDORE?
Hogwarts Silent as Global Wizarding Community Demands Answers
By Rita Skeeter
HOGWARTS – A silence more terrifying than any Dark charm has fallen over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and this reporter has learned that the heart of the mystery is the shocking and unexplained absence of its venerable Headmaster, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
For the first time in living memory, Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall presided over the Start-of-Term Feast, offering students no explanation for the Headmaster's absence. Sources inside the school confirm the Infirmary has been placed under strict quarantine, with the notoriously tight-lipped Mediwitch Poppy Pomfrey refusing all visitors.
The event, which this publication first revealed caused catastrophic magical disruption detected as far away as Mongolia, has ministries around the globe on high alert…
INTERNATIONAL FALLOUT:
• THE INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF WIZARDS has issued a formal summons to Minister Cornelius Fudge, demanding a "full and transparent accounting" of the incident and its follow-ups.
• MACUSA (Magical Congress of the United States of America) President is reportedly considering a temporary suspension of all international Portkey travel, citing "unacceptable levels of magical instability emanating from Britain."
• FRENCH MINISTER FOR MAGIC, in a statement to Le Cri de la Gargouille, called the silence of the British ministry "deeply concerning" and reminiscent of "the worst days of You-Know-Who."
A source within the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, who spoke on condition of anonymity, revealed the true depth of the ministry's panic: "The spells we use to track high-level magical events... they shattered. We've never seen readings like this. It wasn't just a battle; it was like a fundamental law of magic screamed and then... changed. We have no idea what he was fighting, or if he even won. For all we know, something worse is waiting."
Rumors run rampant, from a powerful new Dark Lord to a catastrophic ritual gone awry. Some even whisper of a celestial intervention, a punishment for... [*continued on page 3*]
SEE OPINION: 'Is Britain Still Safe?' - Page 2
BARTEMIUS CROUCH SR.: 'The Ministry Must Seize Control' - Page 4
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LATEST: DISTURBANCE AT ST. MUNGO'S
Healers reported a brief but powerful surge of unknown healing magic that spontaneously cured twelve patients on the Janus Thickey Ward. The source of the magic remains unidentified, but experts note the timing coincides with the initial event in Scotland. Coincidence?
---
EDITORIAL: A Nation in the Dark
How long will Minister Fudge allow this dangerous vacuum of information to persist? Leadership, not silence, is required... [page 12]
————
Having had enough of the nonsense, she threw the newspaper and watched as it sailed through the air, hit the wall across from her with a "thwack", slid down, and settled with all the other newspapers and magazines she had piled up all week.
"Sigh, you get to rest for one week and suddenly the world stops spinning, huh."
She heard a voice—a soft, distinctly muscular baritone—speaking from behind her. She was not proud to admit that she might have let out a very improper shriek as she turned to face the origin of the sound, her wand pointed…
"Ah, apologies, dear Poppy. I did not mean to startle you." The tone had some underlying layers of smugness that told her how much of a lie that statement was, but she did not have the time to address it right now.
"Albus!!! You're awake!! How do you feel? Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea?" She started going full medi-witch before she could stop herself. Maybe it was the exhaustion? Or the decades of work that had basically turned into an instinct? It didn't seem to matter, though, as Albus Dumbledore started to laugh, not caring about all the diagnostic spells she was casting on him right now…
"Hahahahah, I am fine, Poppy. You, on the other hand, seem rather tired. How about you stop casting all these charms and lie down for a while? I am awake and will not be going anywhere any time soon." His voice sounded hypnotic, and she found herself being led to the adjacent bed, Albus's big, strong hand on her shoulders….
Okay, maybe she was too tired if her thoughts were starting to veer off in a direction she'd rather not think about…
So there she was, laying on a hospital bed, a blanket over her, a soft pillow under her, and a handsome Albus next to her… okay, let's just sleep… and that was the last thought she had. Period.
X_
[Albus Dumbledore]
Sigh, I really should start thinking about the consequences of my actions more, I thought as I put Poppy back to sleep. Not that it was a hard thing to do; the woman was beyond exhausted. Her magic felt like old used car oil—slimy, lethargic, and barely functional.
Standing up, I took a few very light steps as my hospital gown was transfigured into casual black trousers and a white shirt.
Once properly dressed, I did a little bit of toe-hopping and started stretching, trying to ingrain the familiarity of my body, mind, and magic with my sense of consciousness. It didn't take me long; I just did some light stretching and squats. That's all it took, but then again, I had trained inside my mindscape, so…
Oh, the training~ I went above and beyond with that one, I thought wistfully as I stood up from my squatting position and headed to the shower—the one in my own tower… Say what you want about magical cleaning, I still prefer a physical shower.
Now, onto the reason I took a whole week in a state of unconsciousness. I was training—and I mean honest-to-god magical training. Sure, I did it inside my mindscape, but that didn't make it any less real. And it all started when I had a simple thought: how?
Like, how would I go about creating new magic? How would I go about unifying the wizarding world? How powerful is my magic now? Etc…
That's when I decided to actually start my magical training from scratch, like a new student, and that was a brilliant idea.
I started by sifting through my memories to the time I was a first-year—the books, the spells, incantations, wand movements, and formulas.
It was only after going through the first two years' worth of magical knowledge that I encountered the key to filling in the gaps in my knowledge.
Arithmancy. In hindsight, it was an obvious thing to notice, yet sometimes it's the most obvious things that are missed. The old me didn't question it; much like other wizards, he took the Arithmancy systems as they were and learned.
Oh, don't get me wrong, Dumbledore was always a genius. It was just that now, I have a slightly different perspective on numbers than the old me had.
For example, Arithmancy is the study of magical numbers and their properties. That's the beginner-level introduction. But when you delve into it, you start seeing it as one of the foundational pillars of the structured magical system used by wizards today.
The magical numeral system, though, differs from that used by Muggles. While Muggles use a decimal zero-to-nine system or a binary of one and zero, they are unusable in terms of magic.
Arithmancy is more than just numbers; it's a representation of magic told through structured numerical systems—like the monadic system, a one-unit-based system which is one of the oldest forms of Arithmancy, coming from ancient Greece. It's a system that is closely tied to the concepts of unity.
The same goes for the other systems, like the ternary, a one-to-three-based system that is the foundation of most charms, representing stability. This goes on to others as well: one-to-seven system, one-to-thirteen, one-to-twenty-one, etc…
Wizard numerical systems rarely rely on the zero-based system because in magic, zero is a nullimantic concept which represents a null state, void, etc…
This was when I truly began to grasp just how different wizards are from Muggles. They are different in the way they think, the way they perceive, interpret, and influence the world…
It was also when I realized that most fanfiction where the protagonist just goes and aces Arithmancy because they knew algebra was not something that could happen in this world.
Anyway….
"Albus!!" A loud voice, akin to a high-pitched shrill, interrupted my monologuing time as I stepped out of the showers, wearing only a towel around my waist.
Turning around, I saw the one and only Minerva McGonagall standing by the door of my private room, which was located above my office, glaring at me while trying not to blush…
Now, some people in my old world would have found the gilf genre an exciting topic; sadly, I was not one of them, and I most certainly did not want to see old Minerva blush, so…
"Ah, Minerva, how is your day…?" I greeted her as my towel started to morph and change into a bathrobe, and I walked towards her.
"Albus, do you have any idea how worried we became when we visited and found Poppy sleeping, surrounded by noise-cancellation wards, and you gone?" she asked, her voice raised—which was not normal for her, especially when talking to me—but I could see why. She, too, was exhausted, huh…
"… and how did you go out unnoticed by everyone that is camping in the medical ward's corridor?… Don't answer that; that was a stupid question…" And thus, the mystery of why McGonagall liked Granger in the books was solved…
"Hahahah, slow down, Minerva. Come, sit down, drink some water." I chuckled slightly as I led her towards the sofa and sat her down. "As you can see, I am in better shape than I have been in a long time. As for why I left, well, I needed a shower, and Poppy was exhausted, so I let the poor woman rest and came here…"
"Ugh, I know that… I was just worried, and you, like always, didn't think of informing me before disappearing." She huffed; I guess there are more problems packed in there than I anticipated. "And right now, poor Flitwick is searching the castle for you…" she murmured as she summoned a Patronus and sent it to notify Flitwick…probably…
"Ah, my apologies, I did not intend for any of this to happen; it was all just a bunch of coincidences and luck lining up together. I have yet to see the ramifications of my absence, aside from my staff's apparent exhaustion, of course….So how about you lie down here and rest for a while, and I will take care of everything else until you wake up, huh?" I said as I quickly transfigured the sofa into a bed, prompting Minerva to let out a scandalous gasp…
"Albus!!!" she yelled in embarrassment, but I didn't bother listening to her as I grabbed her shoulder and lowered her into the bed. "Now, now, Minerva, get some rest and stop worrying about everything else." I, of course, ignored all her protests as I sneakily cast Calming and quick-sleep charms and watched her doze off…
No doubt she will have words with me later, but for now, she needs some rest…
I walked towards my closet and chose some of my old clothes, the ones I used to wear back in the nineteen-thirties—a nice four-piece suit that is enchanted with size-adjustment and self-cleaning. I took note to buy some other clothes later, but I will do with what I have for now…
I walked out of the room, leaving the now lightly snoring Minerva, and descended into my office, where I found Flitwick gasping for air… Ah, I kind of forgot Minerva sent him a message.
"Flitwick, my friend, welcome," I greeted my half-goblin friend, my tone jovial and carefree.
"Albus!! It is good to see you up and about," he greeted back, albeit between breaths. "How do you feel? Is everything okay?" He started asking, but I didn't want to get into explaining this more than once, so I did the same thing I did with Minerva and Poppy: helped him into the couch I had in my office and told him to sleep for a bit and that we would talk later this evening.
He protested, quite a lot actually, and we finally reached a compromise: he would go back to his own room and sleep while I took care of his classes for the day… Obviously, I agreed and escorted him to his own quarters as well while talking about different things, from his impression of the new students to some of the actual effects my absence had on the magical British community.
X_
[Amelia Bones]
She arrived at Hogwarts as soon as Dawlish sent her a Patronus telling her that Dumbledore was awake and had been going around the castle instructing his staff to get some proper sleep and rest while gathering all Hogwarts students into the Great Hall for a study session with him while their professors slept.
She couldn't fault him for that because she herself saw just how tired they had been; a whole week of constant teaching and worrying does more than just tire a person out.
Walking through the corridor, she arrived in front of the doors of the Great Hall. She stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly—a habit of hers, developed to keep herself in control while in front of powerful figures or inbred idiots, as sadly they are often one and the same.
The door creaked as she opened it and brought the focus of most of the Great Hall upon her, and now she knew why none of her Aurors stationed here had come to receive her.
They were here, sitting in the now circular-in-design, furnished with carpets and pillows for people to sit on, Great Hall. A Great Hall that looked mystifyingly cozy.
"Ah, Amelia dear, how nice of you to join us. Come in, sit down; we were about to start a Q&A session," she heard a distinctly masculine voice as her eyes wandered the hall, a voice that came from the man sitting on what looked like a supremely comfortable leather chair on the other side of the hall.
This is not the Dumbledore we are used to, a thought passed through her mind, not quite helpful but an observation nonetheless… What, or rather who, she was looking at was the Dumbledore she had seen in photographs, old photographs, of a younger, battle-hardened Dumbledore.
"Professor," she nodded as she entered and sat down in the spot her Aurors parted for her… She needed to gather her thoughts for now. She already knew he was getting younger thanks to Poppy, but that didn't mean she was prepared for it…
X_
[Albus Dumbledore]
"Ok, now that the first lecture on magical theory is complete, let's get started with the Q&A session. Everyone is welcome to ask anything; no question is stupid…" I said as I leaned back on my chair, getting cozy and stifling the urge to moan in comfort.
I saw a lot of hands go up, but before I could give clear instructions on the picking order, one of them stood up—Roger Davis, I noted, remembering his name. "Professor, you said that all magic is worth studying, but what about the dark arts? The books say it's never worth it to study them," he asked.
"Ah, Mr. Davis, a good question, though do sit down, please," I nodded at him as he hurriedly sat down. "Although, before I start answering the question, let's make a clear order for questions. Three questions from each house before we come around and do so again, ok?" I got a lot of okays and head nods at that.
"Now, for your question, let's start with why the dark arts are classified as such, yeah?" I asked jovially. "The dark arts are a branch of magic that is fundamentally structured on the Arithmantic system of zero, making it a nullimantic branch of magic. The spells created using this branch of magic are usually sacrificial, parasitical, and corruptive for those who don't know anything about it."
"I can see your confusion, so let's make a clear example. Let's say, the Killing Curse. It's a forbidden-to-use spell not because the Ministry wants to control the masses or any such inane reason. No, it is forbidden because to cast the spell, you have to actually mean it—to use hate, anger, loathing, and a very pure sense of desire to end another's life—and when casting such a spell, you usually sacrifice a little bit of your emotions with it."
"Now, some may think, *it's just a little bit, yeah?* You would be very wrong because, as you know, when it comes to magic and sacrifice, you usually get something in return for the sacrifice, and in this case, you get a small amount of magic and life added to your own. Thus, the exhilarating sense of euphoria that you will feel after casting the Killing Curse."
"Yes, I can see some of you are already beginning to understand that this energy you get is very corruptive. It will start to edge you, to make you want to cast it again and again, growing the void in your mind and soul a little bigger each time you sacrifice to cast it."
Another Ravenclaw raised her hand—Penelope Clearwater, my mind supplied.
"Yes, Miss Clearwater?" I smiled at her…
"Doesn't that mean the dark art users are disruptive to the magic cycle?" she asked, making me smile.
"Yes, yes they are. Most nullimantic magic practitioners are. As I told you before, magical energy goes on a cycle—from a wizard, to the world, and back to the wizard. Now, what do you think happens when a wizard or witch absorbs magic that isn't cleansed? That didn't go through the cycle?" My eyes twinkled as I saw the looks of understanding dawn on their faces.
"Um, Professor Dumbledore…" a voice came from the outermost circle—Auror Dawlish, I remembered.
"Ah, John, my boy, how's your Auror life treating you?" I smiled at him as he nodded. "It's good. I just wanted to understand why you kept saying 'usually,' as if there's any other paths for a dark wizard." There was an underlying tone of certainty in his voice.
"But of course, my boy. Nullimantic magic system is not inherently corruptive as is portrayed. The system itself is magic of what could not be… an unknown. That's why it's generally advised not to dabble in this kind of Arithmancy system when creating spells, potions, enchantments, etc… unless you are excellent in most of the others…" I answered him, making him gain a thoughtful face. "But you already know this; you graduated with an 'Outstanding' in Arithmancy, so what happened?" I teased, making him put his head down a little.
"Ok, let's continue…" I announced, and sure enough, a handful of hands were raised. "Yes, Mr. Turner."
"Uh, I just wanted to know, is it really necessary for us to know all about Arithmancy? I mean, I know we don't actually need it to cast the spells; we just study the wand motions, the incantation, and the general spell design…" he asked.
"A good question, so let me answer it in two parts, ok?" He nodded, as did most of the students. "The first part is, do you want to be a great wizard?" A question which stunned most because, of course, they want to.
"As for the second part, no, you do not actually need to study Arithmancy to cast spells, as the systems were designed with the casting process needing intent and will along with the systemic input of the spell, i.e., the wand motions and incantation, to work." I informed them with a smile. "But if you want to be a great wizard, you need to understand the very principles on which our magic is built…"
There was a silence in the hall—not the awkward kind, but the *I need to process what I just heard* kind of silence, which is understandable. I had just told them that without studying, they won't become great, which is true, and I myself know that now.
My week-long coma wasn't just resting; it was me dismantling my magical knowledge with the help of my essence and building an even more solid foundation for my future magical endeavors…
"Um, Professor?" a meek voice came from the left side of the circle—a Hufflepuff student with blonde hair, honey-colored eyes, and a very blessed body.
"Yes, dear," I answered. "Please do forgive this old man for not knowing your name; I was not present during the Opening Feast… a most regretful situation."
"Um, it's Hannah Abbott, Professor," she informed me, though her meek tone continued. "I, uh, I wanted to know about healing. What does one need to study to become one?"
"Ah, I should have guessed, albeit I am old so do forgive me. How's Tom doing, by the way? And how's your mother? All good, I am hoping." I asked and watched her turn red from embarrassment, I am guessing. Though I don't know why she'd be so; her parents were some of the most hard-working Hufflepuffs—a bit of gossip, but hard-working all the same…
"Anyway, for your question. If you want to become an excellent medi-witch, you need to be very proficient in Potions, Arithmancy, spell-casting, and a little bit of Runes. Plus, all that human body anatomy you'd need to study once you apprentice at St. Mungo's, but that's for later."
As I finished speaking, I noticed another Hufflepuff raising his hand. "Ah, Mr. Diggory, how is your father? Well, I hope."
"Haha, he is doing great, actually," he answered as he scratched his cheek.
"So, what's your question?"
"Ah, that." He began before taking a deep breath and looking straight into my eyes to ask, "Professor, you said earlier that dark magic is not worth practicing. Does that mean studying them is okay?"
"Ah, I see." I nodded, knowing full well where he's coming from. "You see, up until recently, I was one of the people who thought that all dark arts are not worth studying. And for a good reason, too. I have lived a very long life and saw how those who studied the Art became a twisted shadow of their former selves. But then I had a battle that opened my eyes again, brought back the Dumbledore I used to be—the passionate young man who loved all types of magic, who believed that magic is what we want it to be…" I paused as I saw Amelia's eyes brighten from all the way in the back. "You see, I used to believe that we should study all types of magic. That doesn't mean we need to practice them, no; we just need to know them, and I have once again returned to this opinion."
I sighed as I continued. "Life is a precious thing, and you don't know what kind of knowledge will help save your life one day. What you need to be mindful of is hubris. For many great wizards fell for their hubris when they believed they could master the dark arts without consequences…"
[Amelia Bones]
Amelia found herself listening to Dumbledore's Q&A session, which lasted about three hours of him talking and answering questions, asking about the parents of some of the students, and sometimes even sharing a story of some.
He answered any and all questions asked by the students, some of which were enlightening to even them, like the question of that Muggle-born first-year who asked what's the difference between Muggles and magicals. To her and everyone present's surprise, Dumbledore's answer was one that wasn't expected.
"Everything…" he said. "The only thing we share and have in common is that we are humans; we bleed the same and die all the same. Other than that, everything is different." She and everyone in the Great Hall were shocked.
"I can see your shock," Dumbledore chuckled.
"Don't be; you'll soon understand that wizards think differently, act differently, have different values, traditions, perspectives, and view of the world… even our math is different…" He settled down as he saw everyone processing what he just said…
It was not news to her or anyone; they already knew and figured that out a long time ago. No, what surprised everyone is that Dumbledore too thought the same.
It was until a particularly brave Slytherin asked the question that he answered…
"The reason I don't condone the ideology of pureblood is because I know how they came to be known as purebloods. How they got their family traits, how to awaken them, and how to bestow them…" She and everyone else saw him shake his head in a mix of derision and resignation.
"And for your information, the reason I don't want the magical world to go after Muggles is because I know for a fact that all magicals will die if that happens. You seem to forget that we barely survived one witch hunt; believe me, you won't survive another…" It wasn't what he said, just the way he said it; the absolute certainty in his voice scared her more than she'd rather admit.
Still, the argument wasn't done. No… he started weaving illusions, showing them just how brutal Muggles were to one another, their weapons of mass destruction, and just how devastating they could be…
She could feel the cold sweat trickling down her back as an involuntary shiver passed through her spine when she saw the bombs go off… She wasn't the only one scared, though; Dawlish looked like he just saw his own Boggart, and she could have sworn she saw Shacklebolt's black skin turn white for a second there…
Still, Dumbledore did not end his session on such a grim note; quite the contrary, in fact. He ended it on a very positive note on how only study and magical progress could save the wizarding kind. How much he believes they were the future of their world, and that only knowledgeable wizards such as the founders could define an era, so why couldn't they be the new era-defining figures?…
The way he delivered the last notes of encouragement made even her feel things…
Still, now is not the time to dwell on such feelings; they needed answers, and he was the one who has them…
"So, Amelia, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore asked casually as he walked them out of the school.
"Dumbledore, we need to hear about what happened. Who did you fight? How did you revert your age? And we just generally need you to explain a few things to the Ministry and the ICW…" she explained, hoping he would pity them enough to come and explain so that they may rest in peace, but that was a fanciful dream, it seems…
"Ah, about that, tell Cornelius that I will be in the Ministry tomorrow, so he may as well bring the reporters…" Yeah, as she said, a fancy dream….
"Ugh, another day with no sleep for us, then…" she grumbled, making the man chuckle.
The audacity… but then again, he was Albus Dumbledore…
"Ah, and Amelia, tell Sirius to come by tomorrow afternoon; I have something for him…" she heard him yell, but she didn't bother turning around…
She was so done for today…
X_
[Cornelius Fudge]
Minister Fudge was not having a good time. No, scratch that—he was not having a good week.
Everybody seemed to want to know something about the situation, and who do they go to? Of course, they go to Fudge. Why wouldn't they? He was the Minister of Magic. But he also didn't know anything, so what does he do?
He hides in his office under the guise of doing important Ministry things when in fact he was just drinking his worries away… A strong Ogden's Fire Whisky is always the answer….
"Maria, did Bones send a word? Are there any updates?" he yelled, asking his secretary—a cute little Hufflepuff button that is a thousand times better-looking than that pink toad he usually has to deal with…
"Uh, yes, Minister. She just sent a word saying that Dumbledore is awake and will be here for a debrief tomorrow morning," he heard her squeak a little in the beginning there, but that was okay. Anything is better than the shrill voice of that pink toad…
"Oh, thank Merlin… I don't know how much fire whisky I could have had before bursting…." he muttered under his breath…
"Cornelius~~~" the shrill voice of the pink toad came through the closed doors, that sickeningly sweat tone that made him have goosebumps all over his body—and not the good kind—and so once again, he found himself cursing Merlin for his bad luck…
'Couldn't you have let me be happy for a few minutes….'
