This story is short and relatively pointless. I wrote it because I was feeling whimsical at the time, and because I needed a break from my long, angsty story 'Worse Than Death'. The genres don't really fit, but they were the best ones available. Hopefully someone will find it amusing.
Temporal Explanation: This is set at the beginning of the summer before Harry and company's fourth year, before the Weasleys have picked up Harry.
Rating: No explanation required. It has absolutely nothing disturbing in it, unless you count Ron Weasley.
Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own any of the characters, places, terms, etc. specific to Harry Potter.
Ron and Hermione gazed out the window at the gibbous moon. They were sitting in Ron's bedroom at the burrow, and had just finished an epic game of wizard chess.
"I wonder what all the spots on it are from," reflected Ron.
"They're craters and mountains and things," answered Hermione vaguely. "Or it's the face of the Old Man in the Moon, of course."
"The what?"
"The Old Man in the Moon. It's a muggle folktale; if you look at the moon in the right way, you can see an old man's face in it."
Ron thought about this, inspecting the moon with renewed interest. "How old, exactly?" he asked at last.
"I don't know."
"Because it looks more like a skull to me," he said, doubtfully. "It's the right color for one, too."
"Oh Ron… It's just a story," sighed Hermione. "There isn't a real Old Man in the Moon. As I said, it's just craters."
"I know there's no real Old Man," muttered Ron irritably. "I just think those muggles need to have their eyes checked".
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Albus Dumbledore placed his Pensieve back in its cabinet and shut the door with a sigh. No matter how many memories he placed in the silver basin, his mind still felt weary and weighed down with thoughts. The responsibilities that came with being Headmaster of Hogwarts did eventually take their toll.
He looked at the clock; it was already late at night. He'd lost track of the time while moving his memories into the Pensieve. He was tired, but knew he would not be able to sleep; he felt too uptight, too tense for the relaxation necessary for slumber.
What he needed, Dumbledore decided, was a vacation. But where could he go? He was famous on a global scale; anywhere in the wizarding world he went, he would be recognized, and subsequently people would want his advice on international diplomacy, or alchemical theories, or any one of the other subjects on which he was an authority. While he was usually more than willing to aid such people, right now he just wanted somewhere to unwind and get some peace and quiet; somewhere other than Hogwarts, where he would constantly be reminded of his duties and the impending setup of the Triwizard Tournament.
Dumbledore gazed out the window at the bright silver moon, and suddenly smiled. He turned away from the window and flicked through the pages of a few ancient books, checking to make sure he had the spells right. After a few moments, he shut the books, pulled out his wand, and cast several complex spells, including an improved version of the Bubblehead Charm which he himself had invented. When he was finished, a translucent shell surrounded his purple robes and swirled around his high-heeled boots.
He left his office and walked quickly through the halls of Hogwarts, eventually exiting the castle and then the grounds. Halting on an open, flat area of the road outside the grounds, he took a deep breath of the warm, summer night air, and then disapparated with a loud cracking noise.
He reappeared on a flat, greyish white field, its dusty surface speckled with pale rocks. Looking around, Dumbledore saw clear, treeless scenery and a black sky alight with stars. High in that sky, he saw a dim shape pierced with shining lights; the earth.
Dumbledore gazed up at the cluster of lights that was the United Kingdom, and reflected that from here, on the moon, it was impossible to tell muggle streetlamps from magical wand-lights, phoenix fire from the Dark Mark. Distance put everything into perspective. He still felt, sometimes, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders; but standing here, he observed that relative to the rest of the universe, the world was really quite miniscule.
Looking around, Dumbledore spotted a small hill of lunar dust with a comfortable-looking rock upon it. He set off towards it in long, graceful bounds, drifting gently over the moon's surface in the low gravity. Once he reached his destination, he sat on the rock and pulled a single lemon drop from his pocket. He smiled at it.
He raised his wand and pointed it at the lemon drop, muttering a spell. As food was one of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, he could not make any appear out of thin air, but it was quite easy to increase the quantity of food which already existed. Thus, the lone lemon drop multiplied in his hand, until he was holding a whole handful of the candies. Dumbledore happily popped a few into his mouth and leaned back.
The numerous spells he had cast before leaving his office ensured he had a sufficient oxygen supply, and that the space within six inches of his robes remained a pleasant temperature of sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. He waved his wand, and strands of a Scarlatti concerto filled the air.
Dumbledore reflected happily that he would have to do this more often. Sitting on the moon, enjoying the beautiful lunar scenery, listening to music and eating lemon drops, was an ideal way to relieve stress. Next time, he thought, he would have to bring a reclining chair; it would make the experience one of complete perfection.
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"Wonder why werewolves transform on the full moon," Ron said. "It's odd, isn't it? I mean, why not the half moon, or the new moon, or something?"
"If you'd bothered to pay attention to Snape when he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts last year, you'd know why," sighed Hermione, looking up from the vast book she was currently reading.
"What? I have better things to do with my time than listen to that git."
"Such as what? Finding skulls instead of Old Men in the moon?"
"Sure. It's more interesting. The moon doesn't annoy me, either."
"Yes, but Ronald, the moon also doesn't give you detention if you ignore it."
They went on talking late into the night. Neither of them could possibly know that tonight, for once, there really was an old man up there in the moon.
The End. Thank you for reading, please review if you have the time.