Albus Dumbledore

I brought snacks.

88,888,888 bronze knuts to anyone who can show me (adequate calculations on parchment acceptable) how to extract essence of fluxweed from a unicorn hair without violating Hyssop's Theorem.

Also, butterbeer. That is, I'll buy you one.

(I say it can't be done.)

Dear Arthur,

It's been too long, and I apologize for writing only when I need a favour. I hope you'll enjoy this one, though.

Has Charlie told you? I hope so. About the SORAS virus. And that I'm affected?

I've been living in a flat that Severus and I shared for a time in a Muggle area of London, and I've managed to get my hands on a fair sum of Muggle money via Gringott's. My neighbours assumed I was the indulged/neglected son of someone wealthy, allowed to run loose -- not unheard of in London, by any means, apparently. They responded to me in various ways, but no trouble that some combination of good manners, good judgment, and cash couldn't smooth over, up until quite recently.

The Ministry has been harassing me about Improper Use of Magic, and about being "unsupervised", and I've had trouble in Diagon Alley (not with Fred and George, of course), especially these past few days, now school has started.

I'm apparently down for Hogwarts.

Anyway, to make a long story short -- if it's not too late for that already -- I'm afraid I had to give the Ministry a name. And since neither they nor I wanted that name to be Dumbledore, I gave the name Weasley. Purpureous Flavus D. Brian Weasley. It's a mouthful, I know, and I know that you and Molly would never be so pretentious, and would have settled for Brian, but I thought maybe if I was less closely related - perhaps a great-nephew, or a second cousin twice removed, assuming those aren't the same thing.

The reason I bother with these details is that it seems I need to appear before the Wizengamot, and based on experience I think it will go much better if I do so accompanied by a blood relation. Do you think you could send MLE or IUM a message, explaining that I (Purpureous Weasley) am your (great-nephew or something plausible, where my parents could be gone for some not-excessively-tragic, though perhaps disreputable, reason), and assuring them that you will escort me to the hearing tomorrow morning at ten o'clock? At least they told me it was at ten, but you know how they can be. I don't imagine there's any tampering going on this time, though. They just want to be assured that there won't be any trouble.

Which is too much for any of us to ask in this life, but that's the Ministry for you, isn't it.

I'm hoping that Fawkes will carry this, now that he knows I'm safe. I've moved into Lake Cottage for the moment with Severus and his family. I don't think the Ministry needs to know that - all the magic here will muddle up the trace on any spells I attempt, I'm sure. They'll assume you and Molly have retrieved me, and make you promise to send me up to school post-haste.

I think that's all. I suppose I should floo over from here in the morning, so that we can arrive at the Ministry together. Just let me know if and when you've told the Ministry you're responsible, as up until then they might be minding the floos for me. I don't trust myself to make a portkey at the moment, and I certainly don't have a valid license to apparate.

I hope this is all right, and I look forward to seeing you. I won't ask you to give Molly a kiss for me this time, as that sort of thing seems to have changed radically due to my age, but I think a hug would be all right, if not terribly convincing.

Your friend - and apparent relation -

Albus Dumbledore

PS - You're right about Fawkes, by the way. In fact I should warn you, if you do come to apparate me - which might be best, if you don't mind, considering his concerns and the Ministry and of course time. He's being rather obtrusively protective. I don't know why. I don't do that to him when he's young. Perhaps it's a hint.

Draco, thank you. I accept.

I am at the flat in Notting Hill Gate. I'm sorry, I thought it would be obvious. In most of those material respects that worry you, the supra-magical ones like food and shelter, I've been perfectly all right, though sincerely grateful for your concern. I've got money, you see. Even Sterling. Gringott's is the one place where they ask no questions and raise no fuss. My wand is my bond.

It will, of course, be a great pleasure to assist your children in any way that I am able.

And you have always -- well, not always, but for a long time -- been invited to address me as Albus.

Yours etc

Dear Draco, Severus, and Harry,

How are you getting on. I feel as though I haven't seen you in weeks.

I don't know if you've noticed, Headmaster, but my name is down for Hogwarts. Well, not my name, exactly, which might make it harder to notice. Or, rather, very much my name, in that I invented it, took it, abused it, and above all in that it denotes me in the mysterious protocols of magical bureaucracy. Anyway the whole business - not so much the name but the expectation that I should attend school (as a pupil) - is potentially a bit of a problem.

The fact is, and I must ask you not to laugh - no, I take that back, laugh as much as you please - I'm pretty badly in need of some adult assistance. Possibly even a parent or guardian.

And it's probably a sign of my latent adulthood that I can say so in so many words, but I do not claim perfection in the matter of being 15. Or much else, at the moment.

To begin with, you see, complicating the matter of Hogwarts seeking to enroll me as a fifth-year (yes, you may continue to laugh, or begin now, if you haven't already), I have been having a bit of a tussle with the Improper Use of Magic Office. They claim I am improperly using magic, and, as you have had the opportunity to observe since this mostly unfortunate malady befell me, they're not mistaken. In fact, while I should probably do quite well as a fifth year, as a grown wizard of exceptional power I'm making rather a pathetic showing these days.

That, however, is not their complaint. Rather, they are upset because I am too young to be doing magic at all, especially as I appear to be -- in the words of a recent communication from a Miss Mafalda Hopkirk -- "unsupervised; probable truant". They have invited me repeatedly to attend a hearing at the Ministry, which I have declined to do and, when they wouldn't take the hint, by certain subterfuges, succeeded in rescheduling several times. For the latest court date, however, they are kindly offering to send Aurors to escort me. Much as I'd like to, I don't think I have the chops to fend them off in my usual style at the moment.

( My troubles, alas, do not end here. )

There, I've probably talked you into a stupor. Please help me.

Yours youthfully,

Albus-Purpureous Dumbledore-Weasley

To: Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
London

Dear Miss Hopkirk,

I'm afraid there has been some sort of misunderstanding. In recent weeks, I have repeatedly received notices from your office, addressed to "Young Wizard," and charging me with violations of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, paragraph C. This puzzles me, as I am well over 100 years old, and I live alone.

Since these notices cannot possibly be intended for me, I see no reason to attend a Ministry hearing tomorrow morning. When you have the opportunity, however, I would very much appreciate it if you might take the time to explain to me what has led the Ministry to believe that I am an underage sorcerer.

Very sincerely yours,

Purpureus Flavus D. Brian Weasley

Albus Dumbledore, age 15, is feeding sickles into the Angry Elves gaming device ... again.

HA!

Albus Dumbledore is feeding sickles into the Angry Elves gaming device

Oh, murtlap.

Albus sticks his head out of the floo. He is visibly holding a large bouquet of yellow tulips. And trying to suppress a cough.

May I come in? Though it always sounds odd to say that when one's head is already in the fireplace.

Albus is in the bedroom, wearing a deep purple robe gathered and secured in a bustle at the small of his back. He has swept up his hair and secured it with three quills. He has a traveling case open on the bed, and is levitating various articles into it, when Draco enters.

I've been positively pining for Rosemerta's butterbeer.

Inestimable Irma,

I'm sorry to have missed you, especially in a Nova Scotian housecoat. The housecoats of Canada are, in general, very well worth seeing, due to the national interest in staying cosy. I imagine the ones from Nova Scotia are even better than most, particularly one with you in it, and most particularly in a vestibule of the Ministry. Please tell me it had a tartan. I dare to dream that some enterprising bystander has captured a photograph, which will surface in the pages of Witch Weekly just as the students return to school.

To school with us in it, of course. I know you don't expect me to pretend to mourn for Miss Umbridge, but really it's too bad. If she was to make her exit in this peremptory manner, she might have done it months ago and saved us all a good deal of bother. As it is it would have been much tidier to present the evidence and have the matter taken care of by the Ministry. But when does that ever happen?

Since the court has evidently nominated you to fill Dolores' recently vacated seat, and since we now have a murder on our hands (along with ample evidence of financial hocus pocus, if you'll pardon my French), I expect I shall be seeing you sooner rather than later. Wear the housecoat if you'd like the best chocolates.

Till then,

Albus

Members of the Most August Body of the Wizengamot are milling about

Yes, yes... You will know soon enough... Absolutely a legal matter...

To: Amelia Bones
Director of Magical Justice
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
London
England
Great Britain
Europe
Earth
Solar System
Milky Way Galaxy
Our Universe
Multiverse

From: Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (reinstated)
My flat
Notting Hill Gate
London, &c.

Dear Amelia,

Please don't be alarmed or drop what you are doing, but I thought a quick warning might be in order, as I intend to summon the Wizengamot imminently. This is, of course, a most unusual action on my part, as I have generally not preferred the Wizengamot as a method of conducting business and have left it alone (mostly) unless and until the Ministry cannot be prevented from convening a meeting. In this case, however, I'm afraid that my associates and I have a matter that must be brought before it and, indeed, confronted by Wizarding Britain at large.

You would not be incorrect were you to surmise that this matter relates to the festering mismanagement and neglect of Hogwarts. I know you will be relieved at the prospect of positive action.

I have attempted to make this note unobtrusive. I hardly need warn you, but I shall anyway--please do not instantly alert your colleagues. The summons will be felt tomorrow morning at eleven, in a most urgent and magical manner. By noon we will be in session.

I apologize for scotching whatever much more attractive Saturday evening plans you must have had. At least you have time to arrange someone to mind the dogs.

My very best, and I look forward keenly to seeing you. We should have dinner when this is done.

Albus

A piece of parchment is affixed to the door of Albus' and Severus' flat with a large, ancient, and rather rusty nail. The following narrative appears in Albus' hand.

Severus I arrived home this morning from Norway to find the most frightful row underway in the study. At least it was in the study when I came in, although I rather think it had several previous locations including the kitchen, judging by the quantity of broken crockery there and in the hall, and also in the bathroom as the floor was rather wet, and the lamp was overturned and humbugs over the floor in the parlour, and there's rather a mess of books and some ink, and there was a battle royal going full tilt between, if you can remember such things, the green and silver on one hand and the bonnie old scarlet and gold on the other--not in the persons of any current or former students or lovers of yours but quite literally, as our respective house scarves seemed to have extricated themselves from whatever receptacle had concealed them and were, at the time of my arrival, elaborately entwined over your desk and attempting to throttle one another.*

Attempted to disengage them by means magical and mundane but without success. Decided it was better part of valour to let it run its course. After all neither will succeed, throttling not so far as I know being fatal to knitted objects.

Thought I should warn. Think I may have a look round for Weasleys.

APW&c

*At least, I think that's what they were doing. It occurs to me that I may have misunderstood due to long habituation to hostilities.

Home on a Saturday night, Severus? Is there some sort of crisis in the restaurant industry?

first grey light
bits of crumble left in bowl
orange sock

pink light
poof
wizard
BAG on table mmm
mmm pies biscuits mmmm
wards!
wards! wards!!!
drops papers
fire

morning light
wizard leaves

wards
crumble
still wards
snooze

sun window yellow
wizard
shuffling about and dropping things enormous cloth things and lying down in soft thing
snoozing
wards

wizard up
wizard leaves room

wards

wizard returns

opens bag!!!!!
eats pie
fire kettle thing water hot fragrant mmmm
wizard has book
eats biscuit!!!
PUTS HALF BISCUIT ON WAINSCOTING!!!!
PIE CRUMBS ON PLATE!
wizard stares at glass wall
wizard grooming long white beard
please leave wizard
wizard leaves

BISCUIT
biscuit hoarding plate crumbs sweet tea cup
v busy
nap

sun gone from window still bright less yellow
stack of parchment floats through door
wizard comes
wizard
kettle fire water window
wizard opens casement chilly air
earth smell
hiding
go away wizard
sugar tea biscuit
wizard reads
commotion six charmed quills writing on parchments
waiting
no wizard no cleaning spell no
wand waving cleaning spell
CHINA CLEANED CRUMBS WASTED!!!
wizard goes

searching ruins damage wizard crumbs some crumbs

nap

dusk
wizard here I hear wizard
shuffles sighs
wizard talks to himself
wizard talking to me, a mouse
blah blah blah mouse
BISCUIT
poof
wizard gone

dark
biscuit
smell old wizard warm socks biscuit
nap

Albus has charmed a wine bottle to roll gingerbread dough into sheets on the kitchen table, which he then cuts into elaborate shapes with a beam from his wand.

The kitchen is rather a mess.

It doesn't seem to snow at all in London, but I have donned my gay apparel anyway. I imagine you will be curious about this, so here is an abridged inventory:

My white velvet cap with gold embroidery, a gift from my fried Blaise
My white fax-fur slippers (that's what the man at the shop called it, I don't think he meant "fox")
A mistletoe brooch with pearls, that belonged to my grandmother
My crimson robes
My apron with a map of the London Underground - not as realistic as the one on my knee, but more colourful.

I am in the kitchen of my stylish London flat. I am making gingerbread, plum pudding, and bumboo, for the pirates.

Feel free to drop by.