Disclaimer: All characters, locations, sweets, etc...belong to J.K. Rowling. The fic is mine, albeit a reposted and very slightly revisited one. Enjoy.
The Dumbledore Conspiracy
Dumbledore was bored.
The school term had ended yet again in another terrible ruckus a couple of hours ago and yet again, numerous parents had sent owls and owls of complaint. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
All his paperwork that had been lying on his desk had overflowed to the floor, covering each and every inch of it. The teachers were either sleeping or going through their occupations, namely getting ready to leave the next day. The students had already left.
The old Headmaster sighed deeply, the sound echoing throughout the whole room. Fawkes stood miserably on his perch, limply lifting one of his lifeless wings. Dumbledore sighed again. A phoenix two days before its burning day was not the most cheerful of things.
Still bored, he closed his eyes, trying to picture in his head all of his students, one by one, face by face, name by name. Nott, Habbot, the Creevey brothers, brilliant pictures they took, …Smith, arrogant pratt, …Macmillan, the Weasley twins. The list went on.
At the thought of the two Gryffindor prankmasters, Albus gently smiled. He had really wanted to see them when they had left Hogwarts on their brooms…and Professor Flickwit had said the best of things of their portable swamp. The two pranksters always knew how to make the most boring day unforgettably hilarious…Merlin bless them! Come to think of it, he needed to go back to Weasley Wizard Weezes to replenish his stock of Skiving Snackboxes… The effect of a Puking Pastie on one Draco Malfoy was just flabbergastingly marvellous. Dumbledore still was chuckling at the precious memory.
At that moment, his features brightened and his smile widened broadly. The look on his face was the one of a boy who just found a way to get the jar of cookies in the highest cupboard. He knew just how to annihilate his boredom.
Oh how brilliant he could be sometimes.
But it would be tricky. Yes, he had to calculate everything at an extreme level of precision …but then again, what was the fun in something too easy?
The mad Headmaster cackled in an utmost fiendish manner and started plotting.
I hope you liked it and would be very interested in knowing what you think his anti-boredom plan would be. So please review and have a pleasant day/night.