A/N: 'Ello dearies...long time no read? I'm on vacation! But I'm not telling you where because I don't like being stalked. Anyway, this chapter is for my home skilly bisket, R, for bugging me to keep writing. Thanks, R.

This chapter would not have been born without you. I miss you so much!!

Sorry about the disappearing Romilda Vane story...I swear I didn't delete it. I changed my e-mail account, and all the chappies went POOF! And I didn't save them on my computer...yeah.

Moving on...here's a little something for you to read. Tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: If you put an infinite number of monkeys in a room with an infinite number of computers for an infinite amount of time, they would eventually write the complete works of Shakespeare. But if you put just one monkey in a room with one computer for about five minutes, he could probably write a funny disclaimer. Which I cannot do.

I don't own Harry Potter.

--The Plight of Albus Dumbledore --

The poor old Headmaster.

You see, Dumbledore's inner being is not far from those of Petunia and Vernon Dursley - occupants of a quiet little house on Privet Drive. They led the very ordinary lives of any respectable English family...Petunia, fastidiously (and quite unnecessarily) polishing her impeccably clean home...Vernon, working hard to support his small family of three...and little Duddykins, studying hard at school. Until -BAM! This cranky little baby ends up on their doorstep, demanding to be taken care of. What was more; the child was a raw, pureblooded wizard.

So much for ordinary.

To be honest, Dumbledore really couldn't care less about the little monster terrorizing his relatives. Until recent, when little Potter turned eleven, and Hagrid insisted that he should come to Hogwarts.

"NO!" Dumbledore had roared, "NOT IN MY SCHOOL! NOT HERE! I've seen the damage he's inflicted upon those poor Dursley's, and I WON'T have him here!"

"Bloody hell, Albus!" Hagrid had exclaimed, "Honestly! He's jus' a naughty little tyke...he can always reform once he's here. And remember - the lad's got no mum or dad. Be nice teh him."

"Nice my -"

"I'll bring him here at once, Headmaster".

OoOoOoO

As soon as he saw him, Dumbledore knew he would be just like his father, and his grandfather, and every meddling Potter before him.

The scrawny little shrimp walked in with the rest of the snotty first-years. The Headmaster could recognize him at once. His hair looking like he had never seen a comb in his life, his wide eyes and huge buckteeth rivaling only those of the bushy-headed girl next to him, and his expression - excited at the huge, orderly school - probably already scheming how to wreck it. He was holding hands with a Weasley. Potters and Weasleys always seem to make fast friends (Bertie Potter and Muriel Weasley were very close back in 1859). They're like nitro and glycerin, exploding everything they touch.

Feeling slightly faint, Albus tapped Snape on the shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Err...wait I forgot. Never mind."

"Ok."

OoOoOoO

Recovering from his lapse of memory, he tapped Severus on the shoulder again.

"What??"

"I seem to have forgotten again. Sorry"

OoOoOoO

"Aha! I remember! Severus?"

"WHAT?!" he screamed.

"Wait...I think I forgot again."

Snape screeched like a banshee and tore out his greasy locks by the handfuls.

"I'm sorry, Severus. It's just that your eyes...they're disconcertingly beautiful."

Snape turned his blood-red eyes away from Dumbledore.

"Oh yes, now I remember! Here comes Potter..."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Er...don't you have some recollection of the Dark Arts? Um, maybe you could inconspicuously use them to, er..."

"What are you hinting at, man?"

"KILL HIM, SEVERUS!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Aw, shucks. Well, time for the opening speech!"

Dumbledore stood up impressively. All eyes turned to him in awe for the wise words to be spilt from his sacred lips, guiding the dumb students of Hogwarts. His lips trembled with the effort of speaking such powerful, important words.

"Potato chips."

The roar of applause was deafening. Every student worshipped him; several changed their religion and converted to Dumbledorism. Others recorded every word he said, in an attempt to analyze their deeper meaning (so far none have succeeded yet).

Only one boy did not join the uproar. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Didn't Applaud, the Chosen Brat, gazed sartorially and doubtfully at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, who noticed this, didn't give a flying broomstick about it. He ate his meal in peace and went to bed immediately.

OoOoOoO

Lying in bed as that dreadful day ran through his head, Dumbledore gazed fondly at the Scope-a-Potter on his desk. Now what's a Scope-a-Potter? It's a one-of-a-kind gadget (available only to teachers teaching a Potter) that lets you know what mischief that the Potter you are teaching is up to. Yes, the Potters have a long history of being troublesome. So on September 1st, every teacher in the school took out their dusty Scope-a-Potters, which hadn't been in use since James was at Hogwarts.

Cradling the brittle glass globe in his arm, he waved his wand with the other.

Scope this Potter

DO IT NOW!

He's caused more trouble

Than a pregnant cow

Although Dumbledore never really understood why an expecting cow would be trouble, he rather liked the stupid rhyme.

As soon as he said the words, the glass fogged for a second, and then cleared. In place of Dumbledore's reflection, was a scene which caught his breath.

Review! I know that I don't really enjoy reviewing...it's like writing an essay after reading a book. Yeah, I'm lazy.

So it doesn't have to be a long review...maybe just a number from one to ten (ten being the best) or what I could improve on...anyway, thanks for reading!

JFYI, I update every Saturday morning. If you liked the story, put me on author alert because I might update before the weekend if I'm bored.

Stay tuned for the next chapter: A Terrible Sight