Chapter 1: On Holiday

It was the week preceding Easter and all Albus could think of was that wizards, witches, and Muggles everywhere would soon be on vacation, but not he. No, not Albus Dumbledore.

It was late evening, but Albus' office was in a state of mad frenzy. It seemed that in his arrogance, Lord Voldemort had made a mistake, for he and a choice number of his Death Eaters had been discovered in the raid of a small Muggle town. The Kneazle was out of the bag, as they say, and now the Ministry of Magic was in a flurry in their attempts to simultaneously mobilize for war and redirect as much blame as possible for their foolish denials.

But that news arrived later, and the Ministerial officials were by no means his first visitors on this fine evening. The first, as it were, was a certain seething Potions master, apparently wishing to voice his professional concern about a particular pupil.

"He refuses to learn, Albus! He is lazy, insufferable, careless, foolish, and arrogant, just like his father! I wouldn't have thought it possible but his lack of skill in Potions has been trumped by his complete ineptitude in Occlumency! Why I have to waste my time trying to get anything past his impenetrable skull and insurmountable ego—"

Severus continued in this line of speech for a good half-hour, with only occasional remarks from Albus along the lines of "You're much too hard on him, my boy" and "He's much less like his father than you realize" that bounced off of Severus much like Severus' instructions allegedly bounced off of young Harry. Albus wondered to what lengths he would have to go to have the two of them get along. On some days he was very much tempted to lock them both in the Come-and-Go Room and be done with it.

His office door opened, but before Albus could feel properly grateful for the interruption of Severus' tirade, Argus Filch ambled in clutching his skeletal feline companion.

This time it was about the Weasley twins.

"Stink pellets! Dungbombs! Desecrating the halls! Defiling the bathrooms!"

Severus sportingly gave Argus the floor and stood off to the side looking faintly amused and not at all willing to come to Albus' aid. Albus despondently resorted to a sugary lemon drop.

"—Students sicking on the floors! Explosions polluting the ears! Disrespect! They're mocking me, Dumbledore—"

At this point, the fire in the hearth flared to deposit the tight-lipped Head of Gryffindor House, who was carrying an intimidating stack of parchments and a purposeful air.

"Albus, are you finished with that Standards Inspection Report yet? It must be sent to the committee tomorrow; and what about those letters to the board? I know I've mentioned them to you enough times—"

"They know I'm a Squib, Dumbledore! They know!"

Albus was beginning to feel distinctly annoyed. Severus appeared to be struggling to suppress laughter.

"I know you're not fond of paperwork Albus, but really! This is strictly your responsibility, and as Deputy Headmistress, it is my duty—"

"Ought to be expelled! Restrained! A few whippin's will set them right!"

"Minerva, the letters are the next thing on my list, and the report will be ready by tomorrow evening. Argus, you know I cannot allow you to harm my students—"

"High Inquisitor Umbridge agrees with me that the students should be put in their place!"

Albus chose to ignore this.

As if on cue, the strangely amphibian-like woman burst through the doors and the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

"Ah! There you are, Professor McGonagall!" she said cheerfully as she took short but quick steps toward the woman who suddenly resembled a Hungarian Horntail more strongly than a tabby cat. "Did you get my letter about the Standards Inspection Report?"

Minerva's lips thinned. "I must have just missed it. So easy for mail to get lost in inspection."

"I have potions to brew—" Severus said quite suddenly as he made to escape.

"Hem-hem."

"I'm sure you do—" Albus replied in dismissal.

"Hem-hem."

"Is that you, Albus?" asked Minerva with mock-concern. "You're sounding a little under the weather. Perhaps you ought to see Poppy—"

"Hem-hem!"

"Yes, Dolores?" Albus finally addressed her with as much poise as he could muster.

"Since you are all gathered here," she said, as Severus was forced to stop upon reaching the door, "It seems a proper time to announce the time and place of our Informational Staff Hearing."

This declaration was met with silence.

"…I trust you all received my letter?"

Albus had. The ignored pink sheet was sitting on his desk at this moment. He moved to discretely hide it beneath another stack of parchments and reached for a lemon drop.

"Perhaps," Minerva spoke loftily, "you would rather inform us when all Heads are present—"

As if again on cue, the door swung open as Severus narrowly slid away to avoid it, and in hopped a tiny Professor Filius Flitwick.

"Outrageous, Albus! You can't allow it!" he squeaked indignantly. "The Wizarding Examination Authority has removed Cheering Charms from its testing repertoire! Cheering Charms, Albus! Oh, hello," he finished, seeming to have only noticed the other occupants of the room.

"Hem-hem," Umbridge articulated, looking at Filius with ill-disguised disgust. "As I was saying—"

But no one seemed to be listening. Minerva, Severus, and Filius had mutually migrated to a spot near the fireplace where they stood leaning in conspiratorially and conveying messages under their breath. Albus meanwhile snuck in another lemon drop.

"Professor Umbridge, you understand how to deal with rule-breakers, don't you?" rasped Argus as he stroked the thin fur of his cat.

As Albus was considering politely asking his visitors to please leave (why his staff chose to convene at half-past midnight, he did not know) when Fawkes let out a squawk from his perch. Following this, a silver instrument upon his desk began to release a smoky steam while another twirled around quietly like a spinning top.

How peculiar, he thought as he prodded one of the instruments with his wand.

Umbridge was still talking importantly, seemingly unaware that anything of significance had just occurred.

Not a minute passed before a fluttery brown owl landed before him with a sealed letter in its beak.

"Aha!" Umbridge exclaimed triumphantly as though she had just heard Albus confess to mass murder. "Aha! All mail must be inspected by the High Inquisitor, Dumbledore—"

"Oh, of course," interrupted Minerva. "How else shall we keep the Headmaster from smuggling in Dungbombs?"

Albus ignored this and broke the seal to read the missive:

Dumbledore,

You-Know-Who and a group of his Death Eaters were spotted this evening raiding a small Muggle village in Kent. Fudge is recanting denials of his return. I expect he is heading to Hogwarts at this time.

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Albus stared at the letter as Minerva quarreled with Umbridge. It was good news on the whole, but the last thing he wanted to deal with was—

"War, Dumbledore!" yelled a voice as the doors of his office were again slammed open. Albus was beginning to recognize the pangs of a migraine. "What am I to do? You-Know-Who is back! I'll be discredited, Dumbledore! This is madness!" The plump man in a pinstriped suit was worrying his lime green bowler hat between his hands.

Albus sighed. "As I told you, Cornelius—"

"You should have given me proof!" he retorted, redirecting the blame. "All you gave me was the word of a lunatic! You've spent the year plotting against me!" he was pointing his finger accusingly at Albus.

"Perhaps they were in league, Minister," Umbridge simpered, quick to turn the change of events to her advantage. "It's been a conspiracy!"

"Conspiracy?!" yelled Minerva. "Why you overgrown toad—"

The Transfiguration professor had finally lost it. She made to attack Umbridge, but Severus held her back, with Filius hanging on to her legs and in danger of being kicked through the air.

Albus grabbed a handful of lemon drops. His tin was now half empty and he was surprised his staff had yet to notice.

"Indeed!?" Fudge exclaimed, looking scandalized and betrayed. "All this time—I should have known you were behind this!"

"Now Cornelius, be reasonable—"

"Reasonable be damned! You started this war, not me! I'll have you arrested for this, Dumbledore!"

At this moment, Minerva managed to fling Filius from her feet, and the Charms professor soared through the air to collide with Argus and his pet in a flurry of clawing and shrieking. Albus watched this with the detached air of a spectator.

Filius, he reflected, was a very well-liked professor—perhaps even the most popular member of the Hogwarts staff. Students loved his class and loved the professor just as much, if their frequent teacher appreciation gifts were anything to go by. Why, he'd once been given twelve shiny red apples in only one week, and a few of his other gifts included collector wizarding chess sets, sombrero-wearing pineapples permanently charmed to sing and dance, and a giant chocolate-covered lollipop.

Albus Dumbledore did not get such gifts. Never from students, anyway. Some of the staff would occasionally send him books. Severus once gave him a strange four-sided piece of jagged metal, much to Albus' unending befuddlement. But no one gave him dancing pineapples or giant lollipops.

"Quickly Dolores, send up Dawlish and Savage! And that young lad—what was his name? Ah yes, Weatherby—"

Albus grabbed another handful of lemon drops. This time Severus caught him in the act, and his eyes widened.

"No!" Argus continued to shriek. "I won't let you hurt Mrs. Norris! Get away from her!"

Over the sound and chaos in the room, Fawkes was circling overhead and emitting the occasional sharp squawk.

Albus eyed the piles of parchment on his desk. One on his left, two feet tall, was a stack of paperwork, among which was hidden the unfinished Standards Inspection Report. A much smaller stack in front of him consisted of around ten letters, and this was the sum of his own personal correspondence. Finally, to the right was a deluge of letters, notes, and papers of various form, color and condition, towering higher than the paperwork pile in a rumpled and disorganized heap. This was a collection of complaints from the last five days—Howlers not included.

One partially opened letter lay in sight, threatening to enter the realm of his personal correspondence. The part he could see read:

You barmy old codger! What do you think you're doing up at that school? First a teacher dies, then kids are getting petrified in the halls, you hire a WEREWOLF and now Diggory's boy is DEAD! You're putting those kids in danger—

Another, in a less jumbled scrawl, read:

With all due respect, it's high time you retire. Your schemes have brought nothing but trouble on the wizarding world and this whole hodgepodge with You-Know-Who could have been avoided if you hadn't gone mucking things up. What makes you think you're any better than wizards like You-Know-Who and Grindewald anyway?

Albus frowned.

"Albus Dumbledore, I hereby by arrest you—"

"On what grounds, Cornelius?" Albus asked tiredly, not moving from his spot behind his desk.

"W-why! On charges of conspiracy! Sabotage! Of—puppetry!"

Albus and Cornelius both knew very well that the last was not a crime, however guilty of it he may be. But the Headmaster of Hogwarts didn't feel like arguing the point.

"You've always been behind this Dark wizardry business! Why, just think of Grindewald! You had the chance to finish him, but did you? No!"

Albus wondered wryly if he ought to have killed a man who could just as easily be detained for life in prison. He wondered if he ought to have killed a man he once called his closest friend for the sake of hatred and vengeance.

Most of all he wondered why he hadn't thought to restock on lemon drops as he poured the last dozen into his mouth. Minerva saw him this time and gaped, while Severus crept apprehensively towards the door.

"—and now we're at war, Dumbledore! What do you expect me to do? I've denied his return for months! There's nothing for it! And at the absolute worst of times—half my staff is already on vacation!"

"Vacation," Albus muttered to himself. Yes, he thought. That's just what he needed. He heard the beaches were wonderful this time of year. Or perhaps he could try that strange Muggle sport of skiing…

He stood abruptly, causing half of the room's occupants to flinch. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then." He strolled across his office to examine a bookcase, pulling out a choice few as he browsed. Nobody else moved.

"Wh-what do you mean, Dumbledore?" beseeched the Minister.

"I can see you've got this quite under control, Cornelius, so of course I'll leave it to you."

He summoned a large leather suitcase and placed it unceremoniously over the piles of parchment on his desk. He threw in the books and began summoning his things from around the room and his nearby quarters: several hats, robes in all kinds of brilliant and flashy colors, his new pair of Omnioculars, a couple of earmuffs, his favorite pair of boots and even some sandals, and of course a good number of socks. He was particularly sure to add his favorite woolen pair.

"Headmaster, what are you doing?" Severus asked warily.

"Why I'm going on a vacation of course!" he replied jovially. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been on a vacation?" He paused to consider. He realized he couldn't remember his last vacation. It must have been over a century.

"But surely not now!" Minerva argued. "We're in a war! What about You-Know-Who?!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," he consoled. "At any rate, there's always one war or another. I do believe this is my fifth, in fact—and the years in between aren't a great deal peaceful either." He threw an orange and blue tropical shirt over his robes and donned a pair of sunglasses. "Now let's see, what else do I need…" Albus summoned an engraved box containing his most vital Alchemy supplies, threw in a Muggle Polaroid camera and, for a finishing touch, Severus' strange metal gift. He closed the suitcase with a satisfying click.

"Now see here, Dumbledore!" Fudge finally spoke up. "You can't just walk away!"

"Oh I have no intention of walking anywhere," Albus said with a sly smile. He was already feeling much better just by planning his vacation. "Take care, now. And best of luck—particularly to you, Cornelius. I dare say you'll need it."

Albus Dumbledore raised his hand as the Phoenix above him swooped down. In a flash, they were gone, leaving nine stunned faces in their wake.

A/N: Despite the title, this story will span weeks or months, not a single 'day.'

I would like to apologize for not having Hagrid in this scene. I wanted to, but I mistakenly thought that he was still away on that secret Order mission, when in fact he had returned. By the time I figured that out I had already written the scene and didn't know where I could add him.

About the lemon drops: apparently that is some sort of coping mechanism for Dumbledore. Snape and McGonagall must have known this, which is why they were so worried about his copious consumption of them.

About "Severus' strange metal gift": see CeliaEquus's drabble entitled "A Present for Dumbledore".

This is a very OOC Dumbledore in a way, as I think we all know he would never just up and leave the wizarding world to fend for itself. However, this story began with the thought that it's rather spectacular he never did so. It's a rather lighter humor fic, so I won't go too much into characters feeling deeply betrayed by him abandoning them-that's not really the point of the story.

From here, the story will focus on how Hogwarts staff and students, the Order, and the Ministry cope without Dumbledore, and we will also see some of what Dumbledore is up to as well...

Thanks for reading! Please review!