We all remember "A Night in Dobby"…but what of the party for which the 'shrooms were intended? What happened there? We're about to find out.
Dumbledore retreated from his office, wherein he had been conversing with Dobby, into his bed chambers. It was time to prepare for tonight's party. He slipped off his blue wizard's robes, revealing a scrawny, pale body. He also removed his tighty whities, since tonight called for a more…festive wardrobe. He went to his dresser, opened the top drawer, and withdrew, with a flourish, his red-sequined corset and matching thong. He shivered with delight. He pulled them on, torturously slowly. Next, he donned his red mini-robe…the sheer one! It exposed most of his pale, thin, varicose-vein-lined legs. To accentuate these assets, he pulled on his best, shiny red stiletto heels. Only one thing remained…Madame Tussyfoot's "Chamber of Secrets" dragon-heart red lipstick. Dumbledore smoothed it on expertly. A glance into the full-length mirror, and he was overwhelmed by his own sensuality. He was ready.
He took a deep breath and stepped out into his office turned party-room. The 'shrooms, along with some chips and dip, were set on a table atop a blood-red tablecloth. The mood was set with a disco ball, velvet curtains, and Barry White's "Gold" album. And, to his left, the centerpiece of the scene, was a king-sized bed, dressed with exquisite Italian linens. While surveying the scene, Dumbledore failed to notice Minerva McGonagall's entrance into his sensuous cabaret. He turned, startled, and their eyes met with an air of utmost longing. "Did you bring…the strap-on?" Inquired Dumbledore, huskily. "I did…the giant purple one, just as you requested." Minerva replied. "Take me," whispered Dumbledore.
Dumbledore and Minerva tumbled onto the bed, Dumbledore's robe flying open, wrinkled skin-on-wrinkled skin contact sending them both into convulsions of pleasure. Minerva ducked down and removed Dumbledore's red-sequined thong with her teeth. Sitting up again, she impatiently buckled on the giant, purple strap-on. "Lube…" she gasped anxiously, "Where's the lube?!" "On the bedside table," breathed Dumbledore, pointing at a crusty white tube to his left. McGonagall grabbed it, squirted a load onto her palm, and rubbed it over her large violet phallus. She then grabbed Dumbledore's legs, spread them apart, and probed his waiting moan-hole with the purple monster. "Oh, baby, don't make me wait," he moaned the cliché. So she didn't.
On the floor below, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were up to their latest late-night-sneaking-around shenanigans. As they skulked along, they suddenly heard strange noises from the floor above. "Do you hear that…squelching noise?" Asked Harry. "I definitely hear moaning," replied Hermione. "And banging," added Ron, who then recalled, "Remember that time we caught Nearly Headless Nick statutory-raping Moaning Myrtle?" "Yeah," chortled Harry. "It does sound like that." Then they all laughed, and the author got sent to hell for being horrible.
The end!