Albus Dumbledore

Albus enters the sitting room in Turkish-style slippers with curled toes.

Severus, have you by any chance an idea of what may have happened to all of my socks?

*The room features pink and green chintz, overstuffed chairs, cushions, curtains, a canopied bed. Albus is wrapped in a large rose-coloured shawl, with fringe, eating soup at a small circular table with a damask cloth.*

A female voice is just audible below.

Look, I know who you are. I told you, he's indisposed. I'll tell him you called. Good bye!

Dear Severus,

I came looking for you, but they tell me you're not at home. I flatter myself that you long for news of me and of the school, which I am fully prepared to deliver.

I've taken a room at Mrs. Elderton's in Diagon Alley. If you let me know where and when to find you, I should like to call on you soon. Tomorrow evening, perhaps, if you are fairly near London.

I hope that you are at least slightly well, although I have no firm evidence to support it. I look forward to seeing whether I can still count you among my bearded brethren.

Until then,

Albus

Iron-eyed Minerva, goddess of efficiency --

Thank you. I mean it most sincerely: thank you very, very much for sorting out the scholarships. Truly it makes our role in the semi-exodus of the students, otherwise such a monstrous dereliction of duty, morally bearable.

The problem of Walpurga. I can't help wondering if you mean to suggest that this may not, in fact, be a problem, although it doesn't seem quite fair to either your office or your successor to allow her to escape there after a long incarceration. After a certain point, rust can be less rather than more of an impediment.

Do you think it's time for someone to find the key, or very nearly? I'm sure that could be arranged. Along with a transfer of the box. One has only to pique the interest of the properly motivated individuals.

I hope you are well. Have you any special plans for Halloween? Take care of yourself.

Albus

Oh! Marvelous...

Looking around

Is that Fred?

Dear Minerva,

I'm writing to you from SeverusHarry and Draco's front hallway, because I'm afraid if I wait until I get back to the Forest I'll forget, or I won't have any ink, or something like that. Anyway, we, by which I mean Harry and Draco Malfoy and I, would like a favour.

We're putting together a fund for Gryffindor families who want to withdraw their children from Hogwarts. Obviously, we'd prefer the money to go to people who actually need it. I'm sure I could figure out how to manage the whole business, but I don't want to, and, honestly, I'm sure you'd do it better. Would you mind? I'm sure Draco Malfoy will sort out a Gringott's account or something, and we'll put money in it. You don't need to worry about that. You just need to sort out how to give it away.

At all events, you know where to find me. Though I'm thinking of accepting Harry's offer and going to live in a splendid Country Home, with a Park. I've conjured an excellent bed, but my invisible roof keeps leaking, and it's getting cold. I'll let you know if I decide to move.

This phoenix, by the way, is called Vega. She belongs to Draco. Isn't she lovely?

Be well, my dear.

Albus

Hello Harry,

I wonder if I might call on you at your new offices. Or, better yet, if you would be so kind as to call on me. Shall we say the railway platform in Hogsmeade, at around midnight? It doesn't have to be tonight. Your owl will find me.

Heartfelt congratulations on your election, and thank you for your excellent column in The Prophet. I'm already glad I voted for you. I'm sorry to impose on your limited leisure time.

Albus

Dear Draco,

Thank you for urging me to press Severus about his mood and situation. I feel that, in asking me to press harder, with the effect that you must have foreseen, you entrusted me with your personal business (for Severus’ sake, of course) to a degree that, when I learned what was at stake, surprised me. So, I am grateful to you for placing his interests ahead of your preferences, for helping me to understand the situation, for trusting me, and for disturbing my complacency.

More than enough sensibility for your taste, perhaps: now on to sense. Last week, you offered a bold proposal regarding Slytherin House and asked me if I might be able to do something on the Gryffindor side. I feel I owe it to you to try. Most students would be better off avoiding Hogwarts for the time being, in any event; all of the air has gone out of the place in the last week, and most of the fire and water are likely to, as well. Nothing against Hufflepuff, but earth alone will not sustain a school. I speak metaphorically, of course, and not in code.

I will see if anything can be arranged.

Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you wish to discuss this, or indeed anything else (except shopping).

Albus

PS I believe Fawkes would like to visit with the children. Please feel free to keep him until after sunset, unless he is a nuisance.

After stepping through the Floo toward dawn on Sunday, Albus charms the night-receptionist to sleep, checks the company directory, finds the office of Desmond Jackman, Head of Alchemical Marketing and Communications, tries to break the wards, fails due to drunkenness, and pins the following note on the door.


Hello, Delicious,

How are you? Don't answer that, let me tell you. You are feeling wonderful. Splendid. This, today, yesterday, wait, perhaps Tuesday, is your lucky day, the day you're been waiting for. Your entire, brilliant, successful life.

I am giving you my job.

Don't worry, I'll arrange everything. Be at Hogwarts on Tuesday. Sorry about the lack of notice. Four houses times seven years, hm. Look on the bright side: they don't all take NEWTs. And some of the Houses double up.

Don't worry, everything will be fine.

A. Dumbledore

Dear Miss Umbridge,

I regret to inform you that I will be unable to welcome you back to Hogwarts next week. I have very recently decided that, however old I am, it is quite old enough to retire. Ah. I have checked my diary: it was in fact on Tuesday that I made this decision. I apologize for the delay in notifying you. I needed to explore alternate arrangements.

I am not, of course, retiring from work. I hope to have the opportunity to explore pedagogical alternatives, work with young alchemists (for my benefit as well as theirs), and generally pursue a less irritating and restrictive approach to education and scholarship. I'm sure that with your enthusiasm for intellectual freedom, rigorous scholarship, and pedagogical excellence, you will more than understand.

I'll be out of my rooms by Tuesday - let us say noon. That will give you several hours to clear any residual wards or charms before the students arrive. I can't imagine they'll pose any problem for an experienced Ministry professional such as yourself.

One gentle reminder, since you have not visited us for many years now: avoid the Forbidden Forest. The name is not purely traditional.

Actually, I'd steer clear of the paddocks as well. And the greenhouses. And perhaps some parts of the castle.

Well, I suppose that's all. Good luck!

APWBD

*knocking at the door*

Please let me in, Severus, this shortbread is heavy.

My dear Hagrid,

So pleased to hear of your resignation. I will be joining you shortly.

I am more than happy to enchant the paddocks. I can think of any number of spells that would be suitable in your absence. Perhaps I shall, as the children say, "go wild."

I mean that almost literally - Firenze has kindly invited me to move into the forest during my intended exile from Hogwarts, and I'm seriously considering it, though not without bringing along something in the way of a roof and a bed. You should come, too.

In the meantime, please give me instruction as to how to sort, separate, and otherwise dispose of the various creatures within the prescribed space. I don't wish any of them to be accidentally transfigured into lunch.

With my enduring respects,
Albus

PS: I know you know this, but just a friendly reminder - don't try to feed the knarl.

1.) Now do we all resign?
2.) Must I move all my things? Where shall I go? This is very irritating. I already feel confused.
3.) Dolores Umbridge? Seriously?

Severus,

I am hopeful that you will forgive my inattention, because you have done so increasingly over the years, and my years are very advanced indeed. Also, I was on holiday in Majorca last week. Better not to ask.

In any event, Horace has just informed me of the latest gift from your most sincere admirer, R.S.

May I call on you? And, more to the point, is there anything you would like me to do? I may, for example, be able to access your office.

I need hardly add, don't worry. We will, as always, sort this out.

Affectionately,

Albus

My dear Caduceus,

I apologize for the ostentatious delivery, but I hope that you will forgive me when I assure you that Fawkes has been quite emotional today - I am completely certain you can persuade him to sing to the patients on the locked ward, and I'm nearly certain he will donate a few tears to the hospital apothecary, if Madam Saxifrage will only smile kindly at him and perhaps even tell him what she plans to use them for.

In point of fact I am writing to you today in what might be called an official capacity - indeed, on behalf of the Wizengamot. I know you will have received word of the ruling of the majority, that Mr Ronald Weasley was found to be not guilty by reason of insanity, and remanded into your care for the foreseeable future.

It may not surprise you to learn that the deliberations on this matter were less than completely harmonious, attitudes toward diseases of the brain being what they can, alas, still be, even today. In specific, I consider it possible that my colleague on the court, Mr Scrimgeour, will make you aware of some of his personal feelings and concerns. You will remember how tremendously susceptible to stress Rufus is - I believe you were at Hogwarts at approximately the same time. And the most recent war has left him with such terrible bitterness. You have seen it so often in your work. I am, frankly, concerned about him, but I don't know that there is much I can do for him. He lost his daughter, you know.

At all events, I know that you will be relieved at my assurance that the court does wish to see Mr Weasley rehabilitated rather than punished, and as such that we hope he will have access to whatever visitors or devices might enable him to re-acclimate  to society. Of course as supervisor of medical treatment, the ultimate responsibility for determining the standard of care lies with you. Far be it from the Wizengamot to in any way direct you as the most appropriate course of treatment for the welfare of your patient. But that you are free to promote his psychological health according to your own best judgment, I am happy to assure you.

By the way, I don't know how familiar you are with "computers", but they can provide marvelous opportunities for the elderly or housebound to keep in touch with their loved ones without risk of mishap. An invalid may regain some sense of reality within the perfect safety of home or of a facility designed for their care.

Should you have any further questions, I am, as ever, at your disposal.

Albus WPB Dumbledore

A Detailed Report
Submitted to S Snape, Headmaster, Hogwarts School
By A Dumbledore,
Professor of Transfiguration,
Vaguely Authoritative Presence,
and Source of Entertainment (to my students) and Irritation (to my Colleagues)
Vernal Equinox (approx), 2009



In closing, I affirm that I received no assistance in the preparation of this report, even from Bill Weasley, and that no students have died in my classroom at any point during the preceding two terms.

Please let me know if this is insufficiently detailed. And welcome back. I am very glad to see you. AD

I think I need an elf. Everything is grey fur. It's got into my peculiometre and I'm afraid it will set off an accidental echo homonym. Anyway I know I am resented by the elves as a rule for my lack of enthusiasm in the area of being tidied, but I am receiving my comeuppance and I beg indulgence.

There may also be a very slight odor.

rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

These are the names I have mentally assigned to three of our 6th years.

One has written a 2 1/2-foot essay on animal-crockery transformation in which no two sentences relate to one another in any way, and which seems to be interspersed with periodic messages to his girlfriend, couched in indirect discourse. E.g.:

Certain people just think that if you don't tell them you want something then you don't want it.

or:

The kind of animal @sprightly thinks is sweet and pretty but you have to be careful.

...

The essay from student number two is pieced together using extended excerpts (of obviously dubious relevance) from Muggle sources, e.g.:

From about 1615, the potters began to coat their pots completely in white tin glaze instead of covering only the painting surface and coating the rest with clear glaze. They then began to cover the tin-glaze with clear glaze, which gave depth to the fired surface and smoothness to cobalt blues, ultimately creating a good resemblance to porcelain.

and

For many rabbits, simply being able to get in and out of the cage on their own can have a dramatic positive effect on their temperament. You may need to move the cage to the floor or widen the cage door (as described later). Floor lures can also help to establish a pleasant routine. Remember Hansel and Gretel, who left a trail of crumbs in the forest? Show your bunny that the road back to his cage at bedtime is paved with rice cakes.

All very true, my cherished Theodore, but nothing to do with the subject.
...

Finally, student three has submitted a 6 foot essay - I do not jest - describing, in episodic periods, her many failed efforts to turn a hamster into a soup tureen, how she felt about them, and responding (in writing) to (transcribed) comments from other classmates on tangentially related topics that come up in the course of the narration, e.g.:

My sister Kate visited the United States and they have these enormous tree squirrels, they're like three or four times as large as hamsters, with great fluffy tails, and she says they are the cutest things, but if you turn them into soup dishes they eat the soup, no matter how well you do it. (Dahlia)

I don't believe that at all. Personally, I agree with Professor Dumbledore that this probably indicates an incomplete transfiguration. He said you couldn't actually be sure, but, speaking for myself, I think he's really hit the nail on the head. If it eats the soup, it's not a real soup dish - not as far as I'm concerned!

I should think it's terrible of me to reproduce their prose in my IJ, but then I too am infected with the spirit of the internet - Facebook has urged me to "share," and share I must!

Scene: Ollivander's back parlour. First a green shoot pierces the floor, which grows rapidly into a sapling and then into a small tree in bloom - clusters of little white blossoms. When Ollivander touches it, a letter drops into his hand. The flowers turn to dark berries and then the tree withers and disappears.

O-

Sorry to have missed our "anniversary." I plead excessive study of the Zohar, which caused me to involuntarily observe Yom Kippur. (No, I am not serious. I simply had trouble with the spell.)

I have been writing constantly, and reviewing my own blather with distress. My prose is as purple as my hat. I have far more words than anyone wishes to read, or than the Wizarding press today will tolerate. No scolding of them intended; they are no worse than they ever were, possibly better. But I am thinking of giving up on the whole notion of memoirs. Nowadays we all write on the sky, and the only thing that seems familiar is the way the sun races for the mountains this time of year. And I am told that is up for grabs.

I warned you about my prose. The number of sunsets, storms, small woodland creatures et al is frightfully maudlin. I think the whole project may have had a deleterious effect on my sanity. Memory is a terrible lonely place.

But perhaps you have fared better, young man. Are your memories fit to be consumed by anyone under 120?  I hope that your eyes do not trouble you. Your grandmother wore the most tremendous spectacles, you know. Made Pince look like an eagle. (Whispered the pot about the kettle.) Take care of yourself, and don't forget your Elder.

-D