A/N: This fic was written as a tribute to my ADMM-past, (hey, I was 13!) before I recognised that a fifty-year age gap can be...er...slightly problematic? (hey, Alan Rickman's only 42 years older than me!! Also, Albus is gay!)

And I also thought I'd take up The Reviews Lounge' fanon challenge and point out nicely that Hermione's Time Turner should only be used to turn back several hours, NOT several years. Lastly, I had a bone to pick with JKR, because something has gone awry with her maths! All very affectionately, of course. Since I own nothing.

I am totally going to get flamed for this. But here goes!

"Dear Adalbert"

Adalbert Waffling wasn't accustomed to receiving much fan-mail these days. With the over-commercialisation of Quidditch, the 'streamlining' and 'modernization' of the magical curriculum and the advent of inane comics like The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle, it was rare to find intelligent beings within the once-hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

"Youth these days!" he grumbled, as he relieved his faithful owl, Perpetua, of several rolls of parchment, which would no doubt probably turn out to be income tax notices, library fines and, ironically, requests for him to be a motivational speaker. Unrolling the first, and largest, message, Adalbert began to read.

Dear Mr Waffling,

My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am a fourth-year student at Hogwarts. I am writing to you because I have a number of questions concerning your excellent book, "Magical Theory".

1. As my favourite subject is Transfiguration, I would like to know a bit about Gamp's Exceptions. How is it that Food is an Exception when we can Conjure live animals?

2. In addition, how is the Philosopher's Stone capable of evading Gamp's Exceptions?

3. I am also extremely intrigued by the idea of Animagus transformation. Why do you think has it gone so out-of-fashion in the last century or so?

4. Pensieves also fascinate me. How is it that a memory, which we experience from the first person, can be viewed later from the third person? You say that it has something to do with the idiosyncrasies of Parmenidean Time that have been exploited.

5. Regarding time travel itself, you state that it is a most dangerous activity, even more so when a traveller goes back "outside the range of a few hours", but you do not state exactly why? I very much desire to know why this is so, when there have been multiple documented cases – Ptolemy, Bridget Wenlock, Beatrice Blenheim-Bow, Sir James McKinnon of the notorious "Torchwood Affair"…

6. This leads me to my final question. Your book's introduction, "Notable Wizards of Our Time", and your chocolate frog card all concur that you were born in 1899. However, in researching for an Arithmancy assignment, I came across a number of papers that you co-authored with Albus Dumbledore in 1898. As it is inconceivable that these highly reputable sources could be wrong, I have come to the conclusion that you must in fact have done some time-travelling. How did you manage to turn back time for several years, and how did you get back?

7. Perhaps, if you will indulge me one last query – what was it like? What was it like to meet Albus Dumbledore in his youth?

Kind regards,

Minerva McGonagall

Adalbert could barely believe his eyes. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed them with his robes, thinking that they must either be extremely grimy, or that his hyperopia must have gotten exponentially worse. No – he realised – checking the parchment again – that the letter was real.

Here was a thoughtful, intelligent young witch, who reminded him very much of a thoughtful, intelligent young wizard from when he had just been starting out. Even though the first few questions were rather mundane – a bit of time and she would figure them out for herself – she deserved a reply. A long one, if he could manage it, as his name implied.

The old man opened one of the drawers in his desk. It had been so long since he had sought his personalized stationery that the Impervius Charm placed on the wood had worn off, causing it to absorb moisture and swell up, much to his annoyance. He gave the drawer handle a good rattle with his arthritic hands, before tapping it with his wand in surrender. After unrolling the yellowing page on the desk in front of him, Adalbert dipped his quill in his antique inkwell and began to write.

"Dear Minerva"

As proud as fourteen-year-old Minerva McGonagall was of her House, she could not help but roll her eyes at her fellow Gryffindor students from time-to-time. They had attempted to matchmake her with just about every male creature in Hogwarts, excluding the Giant Squid.

That included Tom Riddle, whom she could find no whimper of attraction towards – he had reminded her of a vampire who had sniffed out a particularly tasty victim when he'd apparently shown some interest in her. Next had been Wilkie Twycross, who, although he was a lovely, intelligent Ravenclaw, had about as much personality as a roll of blank parchment. Then – Claudius Gibbon, followed by Lycurgus Lestrange – two slimy Slytherins with no real interest in the study of magic. William Grubbly-Plank was a Highly Appealing Hardworking Hufflepuff, but he also came with Hufflepuff Brains (Minerva was harsh, but always honest). Even though he was two years younger than her, someone had suggested Orion Black, which made her explode, what were they thinking?!, even more so than Filius Flitwick, who was a three-foot-tall half-Goblin (but also, very deservedly, a Prefect, which was much more than she could say for Black.)

And that was just the boys who weren't Gryffindor students (Rubeus Hagrid?! WHAT WERE THEY DRINKING?!), or teachers…oh, curse the day she had ever said that her favourite subject was Transfiguration, and her role model was Professor Dumbledore! Now they would never leave her be.

Had they never heard of negative psychology?

"Minnie…here comes Albiieeeeee," sang June Saltmarsh, when the Head of Gryffindor house swept by their table at breakfast one morning.

Minerva narrowly restrained herself from tipping her goblet of pumpkin juice all over June's person. Was it so inconceivable that she wasn't interested in romantic recreation? Was it impossible to admire someone simply because they were gifted or talented?

Luckily, Minerva's seething was cut short by the arrival of the post, as her owl, Athena, swooped by and deposited a roll of official-looking parchment in her lap. The tall Gryffindor girl opened it with care, causing very little damage to the "AW" wax seal.

My dear Miss McGonagall,

In response to your first five questions, I recommend you conduct some research as widely as you have on my date of birth and my collaborations with Albus Dumbledore.

(Self-directed learning is far more satisfying than spoon-feeding! Or is that not in fashion anymore? It was when Albus was at school…)

(Or did you make up all those questions for the sole purpose of nitpicking your Chocolate Frog Card collection...?)

It pains me to tell you that people are not as inherently noble as you think they are. A few years ago, when the thirty-seventh edition of "Which Wizard" was released, a slight typographical error meant that the "6" in my year of birth was upside-down, making me three decades younger than I actually am. As a matter of fact, I'm of Griselda Marchbanks' vintage.

However, you may or not be aware of the work of Septimus Weasley, a Healer who is working to discredit the timeless claim that pure-blooded wizards live much longer than muggles (and the associated conclusion that mixed marriages should be prohibited). Weasley's claims generally revolve around the idea that environment has the greatest influence on lifespan, not genes. He believes wizards only appear to have twice the life expectancy of muggles because they are not subject to hazards such as radiation, they are better at curing diseases and they are protected by survival-instinct magic from many kinds of accidents.

The Ministry have been trying to promote Weasley's work, with the result that shortening my lifespan will probably help them. And it will help you too, should you be a half-blood or muggle-born, for it will mean you will one day face far less prejudice from pure-blood radicals than my peers did.

In short, who needs the Elixir of Life, or rather, a Time Turner, when you've got faulty printing presses and Ministry conspiracies? Don't go around believing the best of people, my dear. That's Albus' job.

Yours sincerely,

Adalbert E. Waffling

P.S. I suppose it is the trend for you young girls to fancy older men, but I feel it is my duty to warn you that you are very much wasting your time, as Albus Dumbledore is as about camp as a row of tents.

Minerva folded the parchment neatly in two, running her fingernails down the halfway crease. She then repeated this process until the letter was a tiny square which she could hold between her thumb and forefinger. Staring at it with a glare so potent that it ought to have set the parchment alight, she muttered quietly to herself. "Not him too!"

A/N: So there you go! My monthly bit of rubbish (because 16 is one of my favourite numbers, my goal is to have something started or finished on the 16th of every month). Even if it's rubbish. I uphold the NaNo principle: write now, fix later.

As for my personal life, I am HATING self-directed learning right now. ILP Proposals are really not fun at all! Oh well...just one or two more updates somewhere…and then I'll be off on Hiatus for my big fat exam week!