Author's Note: Hello. This is Ally. ^_^ Normally I write with Annie, as one half of the Predtards, but we decided that the plotlines for this story were too complex for us to attempt to combine them. So we split them up. I am writing my characters, and she is writing hers. Eventually this will converge with hers, and we will write together again. But this story is going to be written by me, and will be betaed by Annie. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: Annie says I have to say that I don't own any of this. I was kind of hoping that if I didn't, someone would be silly enough to think I do. That'd be kinda cool. Lol
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Chapter 1: Confound It All!
"If you can't convince them, confuse them."
Harry S. Truman
Moira woke to the sound of soft giggles coming through her closed door from across the hall. Aminah had someone in her room again. Cursing under her breath, Moira rolled over, pressing her pillow over her ear. She glowered blearily at her clock. It was 4:45am. Forty-five minutes before her alarm was set to go off.
With a grumbled oath, she slid out from under her comforter and off of her bed. She wasn't going to be getting any more sleep, and so she might as well go for a run.
Padding over to her closet, she slipped out of her filmy night gown, one that her roommate, Aminah, had coerced her into buying. Quickly locating one of her jogging outfits from the neatly labeled drawers, she pulled it on. She glanced over at her full length mirror and glowered at the red curls spiraling merrily out of her sleep rumpled braid.
She sighed, undid her braid, brushed her curling locks until they stood out in a soft, frizzy halo about her, and then rebraided the mass into a trim braid that hit at the base of her spine.
With a satisfied nod at her more organized looks, Moira left her room. She ignored the soft noises coming from Aminah's room across the hall, and made her way through the living room.
There she paused and glowered at the pile of shoes scattered across the floor of the closet, with no regard for her labels. She extricated her tennis shoes from the pile of gaudy high heels that belonged to her roommate, and, after slipping them on, escaped from her desecrated home.
Already at 5 in the morning, the traffic was getting heavy. Moira dodged in between the long lines of honking cars and yelling pedestrians, as she made her way around four of the blocks surrounding her apartment building.
After four circuits, she returned to her apartment. Satisfied that Aminah and her current playmate were done for the moment, Moira went to the bathroom she and Aminah shared. She brushed her teeth, took a quick shower, braided her hair once more, and walked to her room.
There, she changed into a pair of black slacks and a dark gray, flowy top, pulled on a pair of slim black heels, grabbed her purse, and left for the day.
She walked down the street, ignoring the usual catcalls from the taxi drivers stuck in traffic, and made her way to the school where she taught spoiled high school students History.
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With a sigh, Moira entered her apartment. Aminah wasn't off from work for another couple of hours, and so Moira had the place to herself.
She carefully placed her armful of partially graded tests on the counter, before locking the door. After satisfying herself that all was secure, she turned her attention towards the sections of the apartment that she and Aminah shared. Aminah wasn't very good about putting her belongings in their designated spots.
Moira scowled at the dirty dishes in the sink, the pile of shoes in the closet, and the slightly off kilter couch. She sighed, and began to return everything to its previously organized state.
When everything was as it should be, Moira picked up her belongings and made her way into her pristine room. There she finished grading her tests, and cleaned up the little bit of a mess that she had made.
She still had two hours before Aminah got off of work. She knew that, as soon as she got home, Aminah was going to take her to House of Nanking, her favorite restaurant. This was what happened every time Aminah brought someone home with her, knowing that Moira hated strangers in her home, and didn't approve of Aminah's sexual escapades. She had been better as of late, bringing fewer men home and going out less, but still.
Moira yawned, and glanced over at her alarm clock to reassure herself that she had time to take a quick nap before getting in the proper mood to chastise Aminah. Not that it ever did her any good. Aminah would just look serious and grave, nodding attentively, then announce that she was terribly sorry and it wouldn't happen again. Infuriating, but amusing.
Deciding that it really was all right for her to rest a little while, Moira changed into her nightgown and lay down on her bed, deciding to set her stuffed seal, Greargovich, on her other pillow rather than snuggle with him. An hour's nap would be welcome after her early morning.
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The sound of rustling paper awoke Moira. She lay still in the semi darkness, keeping her breathing silent. Someone was in her room. No one was allowed in her room, save Minah on very rare occasions, usually when Minah got tired of waiting to go to dinner and she barged in.
Stealthily raising herself up onto her elbows, she edged towards the end of her bed, careful to avoid making it creak. Another rustle alerted her to the general location of the intruder.
With a yell, Moira vaulted herself from her bed, towards the stranger in her room, ready to defend herself. Only to find herself facing a bespectacled old man, in a room not her own.
The older man stared at her in shock, ink dripping from his still raised quill. She stared back in return, clutching her nightgown to her body.
After a couple moments of awkward silence, he lowered his quill and cleared his throat. "And who might you be, my dear?"
She continued staring at him, flabbergasted. If she didn't know any better, she'd think that she was talking to that old guy from those books Minah had forced her to read. He didn't look quite like he did in the movies, though. His hair and beard were shorter and darker.
He cleared his throat once more, and when she still didn't stop gaping at him, he spoke again. "I suppose that I will begin, then. My name is Albus Dumbledore. May I ask what yours is?"
Moira giggled, in a semi-hysterical manner, before answering him. "Hi, Dumbledore. My name is Moira. Did you know that you have ink on your nose?"
Dumbledore blinked, before pulling a handkerchief from his robe, and rubbing at his nose. He looked at the handkerchief, and eyed the splotch of ink that had transferred onto it in mild surprise, before looking back up at Moira. "I did not. Thank you."
During this, Moira had been looking around her at the crowded, rather messy room in disapproval. She looked back to him when he spoke to her. "You're welcome. Your room is quite messy. Don't you have any labels?"
Dumbledore chuckled and shrugged, gazing about a bit ruefully. "Normally this room is much more orderly, but as it is summer and the students are gone I have let it slip a bit."
Moira frowned and shuffled off of the pile of parchments she had landed on, and had just now noticed. She glared at the stack of papers, and noted they were stacked haphazardly upon a rickety, spindly looking chair. Certainly not a proper place to store papers.
Dumbledore watched her for a few moments, obviously waiting to see if she had anything else to say about his organizational habits, before speaking again. "Which leads me to wonder what you are doing here, young lady."
Moira laughed and looked up from her perusal of the detritus littering his floor. "Young lady? I don't think someone's called me a young lady since I was twenty four."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow as he looked her up and down. "Forgive me if this seems rude, but you don't look a day past twelve to me."
Moira froze as he locked gazes with her, before she burst into laughter. "Why that's the most ridicu-"
A glance into a small mirror on the far wall stole the rest of what she had been planning to say from her mouth. Because looking back at her was the terrified face of a young girl with shoulder length hair and a ridiculous amount of freckles. Slowly, she looked away from the mirror, and looked down at herself. Sure enough, her nightgown was far too big, her small bust and hips were gone, and her hair was curling into her face.
She glanced back at Dumbledore, horror on her face. "What is going on? I'm almost THIRTY, for God's sake! How in the hell have I turned back into a kid?"
Before Dumbledore could think of an answer for her, Moira began talking again. "I must be dreaming… That's it. I've always had rather strange dreams. I mean, I guess I should have figured that out from the beginning. Talking to a dead old guy from a book series and all…"
"A dead old guy?" Dumbledore repeated, eyebrows raised.
Moira chuckled and waved a small hand at him. "Oh, you're not dead yet. You get much older. And have a much bigger office by then, a bit cleaner too."
"I see… From a book series?"
"Yup," Moira said with a shrug, busily attempting to pull her hair away from her face. "What's it called… Ah yes! Harry Potter. My roommate, Aminah, convinced me to try reading it. Wasn't terrible."
Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard gently as he watched Moira give up on fussing with her hair and begin to poke about his room. "Ah… Why is it called Harry Potter?"
"Oh, Harry is the main character. The series is all about him angsting and attempting to defeat some evil overlord person. The usual for a fantasy series."
"And I'm in it?"
Moira looked back over to him from across the room, and rolled her eyes. Her hands were roaming about a cluttered desk, attempting to organize it. "I believe we've established that, yes?"
"I'm just curious as to what part I play. Before my death, of course." He said, bemused, as Moira pocketed some of his things, seemingly without noticing that she was doing so. He wasn't sure where she was storing them, as she was only wearing the nightgown.
"Hm? Your death is one of the more important parts of the series." Moira was now making her way through the piles of scrolls laying about the space. So far a quarter of his room was neatly stacked and organized in whatever method the strange little girl thought best. It looked quite odd surrounded by the rest of his mess.
"But, besides that, you were the only wizard to scare Voldemort and the one who figured out what Harry had to do to defeat him." She continued after a few moments of silence.
Dumbledore nodded absently. "And what part do you play?"
Moira stopped her cleaning to glance at him, annoyance clearly written on her face, before returning to her task. "I believed that established as well. I READ the series, thus I wasn't IN the series. So I played no part."
Dumbledore nodded and silence reigned as Moira continued fussing about the room, occasionally stashing things on her person. Dumbledore tried to wait patiently for her to speak, but gave up as she continued ignoring him.
"Do you plan on spending your entire dream organizing my room?" Dumbledore said finally, after his attempt to wait the happily cleaning Moira out dragged on for too long.
She paused and looked at him in confusion. "It's messy."
"So it is, but that does not mean that you need to clean it. Besides, wouldn't you rather see the rest of Hogwarts, while you're dreaming? Perhaps meet Professor Dippet?"
Her only answer was a shrug, but she stopped and moved to stand in front of him again. He stared at her, eyebrow raised for several minutes while she fidgeted and eyed the still untouched sections of his room. Eventually he sighed and held out his hands. "I would appreciate it if you would return my belongings to me."
Confused, Moira looked down at herself and then back up at him. "Huh?"
"I'm not sure where you have secreted them, but I watched you put them on your person. And I would like to have them back. The package of lemon drops especially. They're my favorite."
Still a bit baffled Moira shook her nightgown out. She was shocked when several items that had somehow been hidden within the folds dropped to the ground. She glanced back up at Dumbledore's face, expression a bit sickly.
He smiled calmly, leaned down, and picked up his bag of candy. Opening it, he popped one into his mouth, and then gestured towards her with the open bag. "Lemon drop?"