The Truth about Lemon Drops

By Chocolate coated Blue

AN: You know that tick, twitch of the eye anime characters get when they are pissed off or annoyed? The nerve of some people. . .

We all wonder about them, we all have theories about them, but what happens when I write about them?

Disclaimer: Have you read the series? Do I write like a genius of story telling who makes millions? So do I own the characters, copyright, or lovely places of the Harry Potter series? Think about it, it'll come to you that I'm only borrowing said stuff but the plot is my possession.

Summary: Everyone refuses Dumbledore's lemon drops, in fact even he couldn't remember the last time someone had actually eaten one (other than himself).

Warning: We all know Dumbledore's gay. So there will be some reference to this, but please he's an old man leave him and me in peace, k? Oh and if you haven't read the last book, you may become slightly confused (but only slightly I hope :) )

Albus Dumbledore was a very famous old man. Fortune having first stumbled on him back in his first year at Hogwarts. Quickly he had become known as an academic genius, he had even gone on to become a Prefect and later the Head Boy. Through-out this short stay at where he would later call his home, he had managed to accumulate a variety of awards, medals and recognition. Upon graduating, he had won the Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting, the highest honour his school could bestow. This however was not the only prize he gained upon graduating the prestigious school.

All through his years, he had quietly been making a name for himself, one that he was rather glad that the teachers knew nothing about. As the 'sexiest boy', he had rather decimated hearts right from the start; in fact the trail hadn't stopped until he had well past the 50 year old mark. It hadn't even been all men who had professed their undying love, though they had been relatively more fun to toy with than the others. Most of the women he'd met had felt that all he had needed was the touch of a respectable female (though he rather doubted that some of them were all that respectable). Even the guy's who weren't besotted had been more willing to explore their baser natures. Nevertheless, it had been quite annoying to know that the perfect man for him had in fact been somewhat less than perfect; really all that nonsense of being a Dark Lord had quite got in the way.

Soon after graduating, however, Dumbledore had found himself the British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot. How that had quite happened he would never know, as he had taken a relatively large break from the Wizarding World to look after his beautiful sister. Although, he supposed that it had been exactly the right distraction that he needed to take his mind off it all.

Upon taking a small sabbatical, in this instance for some well earned quite time researching in a small laboratory in Wales; fame had stumbled upon him again. Obviously leaving an unattended bubbling potion next to a vial of dragon's blood while sneaking a quick trip to the lavatory was not one of his most memorable exploits (Snape would kill him if he knew). Especially when the resulting explosion had alerted all of neighbouring muggles, as well as his fellow wizards to his unfortunate predicament. Really, it was not the way to go about introducing the world to the 12 uses of dragon blood.

He was again recognised later when he dabbled in alchemy. Fortune had smiled on him again, though this time he had set out with a definite goal in mind. The Gold Medal-Winner for Ground-Breaking Contribution to the International Alchemical Conference in Cairo had really been too much; particularly as he still steadfastly maintained that that award should have gone to his good friend and partner Nicholas Flamel. It had been his idea in the first place; all he had done was tweak it a bit.

The unfortunate defeat his once-soul mate Gellert had not deserved the Order of Merlin First Class, any more than helping a friend in their time of crisis. Though he had to admit that Gellert's crisis had turned out to be rather more life changing than any that he himself had gone through. They had sworn that should the other be in danger of failing that they would only fail to the other. Truthfully that year had been hell for him, more than ever when he had realized that Gellert had passed one last gift with his death. The muggles had really grated on his already frayed nerves with all their celebrating. The brats at school had been enough; all he had wanted was some peace an quite for once.

By the time he had become a Grand Sorcerer, life was truly catching up to him. A few years later when he had obtained the prestige of being both the

Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot at the same time, through none of his own scheming he wished to be left alone. He really had enough on his plate teaching teenagers the Art of Transfiguration without having to rule over two of the most powerful wizarding bodies with some of the most obstinate people he had the pleasure to meet in his rather long life. It had been then that he had realised just how old he really was, and by Merlin was he sick and tired of being Fame and Fortune's poster boy.

Finally at his grand old age of 74 he had even managed to become Headmaster of Hogwarts. And while he still had to keep up appearances he had the excuse he needed to relax some. It was time for the Wizarding World to run itself, really to rely on only one man was foolishness. Though he still retained his influence in the right circles, for it wouldn't do for them to forget him. Plus the school often needed extra funding, and sometimes the purebloods just took it too far. Even Minister Fudge was on occasion taken to actually implementing the advice he requested from the Headmaster.

But all these weren't the most famous things about Albus Dumbledore. No, if you were to pull someone off randomly from the street (of course in the wizarding world) you would be surprised to find that even the title of Headmaster was an afterthought. For there were two things, and only two things, that distinguished Albus Dumbledore from the ordinary wizarding populace; the always present – must be magical – twinkle in his eye and his fondness for muggle candy, in particular, sherbet lemon drops.

His perchance for offering his lemon drops (for no one would dispute that they were his lemon drops) in inappropriate situations was legendary. Just as infamous was the continual refusal of said lemon drops by whomever he was offering them to at the time. It was a long held belief of the students and past students of Hogwarts (as well as a few others) that inside each tiny sweet was a drop of the most powerful truth serum in the world. Professor Dumbledore had done nothing to dissuade these rumours; in fact he went as far as adding an extra twinkle when someone looked too suspiciously at his lemon drops. If this led to the encouragement of those old rumours than so be it. For who was he to complain, when he got to keep all his precious lemon drops to himself.

There was another rumour that circulated about, hidden in the dark corners, shushed quieter than the breeze in his presence. Oh, they thought that he didn't know, that they were careful; silly children still didn't realise that nothing, absolutely nothing, went on in his castle without his knowledge (except for that time with Quirell, and Moody, and that fiasco with the Chamber of Secrets, but then when did anything with Fate and Magic's plaything ever really count in the normal run of things?) This particular rumour spoke of one who had dared to touch his beauties.

It had been before he had reached the esteemed position of Headmaster; really that boy had lived to cause trouble. He had no gratitude at all for the fact that Dumbledore had been the one to save him from that horrible place. With his sneaky Slytherin ways, Dumbledore had hardly got to catch him in the act at all. It didn't help that all the teacher's had loved the attention seeking brat, why some had even dared to compare him to his own youth. He hadn't meant to permanently change the boy's personality, he hadn't even been trying to touch the boy's mental state; but he supposed that was where rage got him.

Really how did the boy think he'd react when he waltzed right in and stole his precious sherbet lemons, it wasn't his fault that that particular curse garbled by rage became mind altering. Even then, how was he to have known that it would have led to psychotic tendencies and homicidal urges; it had even seemed to get worse as the years passed. He took no blame for the obsession with immortality the boy had got that on his own. In fact he took no blame for any of it, it was supposedly impossible to alter someone's personality and mind on such a scale with just a curse, something like that would take years to do, years upon years.

However, the rumour didn't know any of that. People thought someone had died when touching his sherbet lemon drops; kids' theses days they sure did had quite the imagination.

But then again, nobody ever touched Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's lemon drops again.

AN: If you read my other story, don't kill me, I should have it updated in the next two weeks of so, so please leave me alive, this was for a friend…