I'm probably putting way more thought into this than there should be in a parody. Oh well.


Chapter 3: There's a Backstory?

Harry was startled awake by someone shaking him vigorously and hissing at him. "Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Groaning, Harry turned his head but the person only shook him harder. His eyes snapped open and he nearly jumped as he saw Hermione's face very close to his.

"Hermione, what time is it?" he mumbled (once his heart rate went down).

"It's quarter past seven! No one is awake yet, so we can go to Professor Dumbledore's office without anyone asking questions!"

"Dumbledore's office? Why, what happened?" Harry stood up straight, now fully alert and gazing at her with concern, noting that she was already fully dressed. He searched around for his glasses as she spoke.

"We need to ask him about his granddaughter," Hermione said, "There's just something very odd about her and the way she carries herself! Her origins make no sense whatsoever! There must be a reason why Dumbledore has kept her a secret!"

Harry adjusted his glasses over his nose and frowned. "You woke me up for that? Why do I need to come along?"

"Because I'm sure Dumbledore would be more willing to tell you about it," Hermione insisted.

"And you want to know because–?"

"Because this is just not right!" Hermione said angrily. Her eyes looked maniacal in the dim light of the morning; Harry had never seen her this worked up in frenzy since she had gotten upset over Barty Crouch's treatment of his house-elf at the World Cup. "She has powers even Dumbledore doesn't possess! She's supposedly going to live for millennia to come, she transfers to Hogwarts to fulfill some ridiculous prophecy about unicorns, and to make things even more ludicrous, she gets sorted into two houses and gets her own private suite!"

"But–" Harry began.

"A jacuzzi, Harry! She has a jacuzzi! Even if she is his granddaughter, this blatant display of favoritism can't be good! I noticed most of the teachers last night weren't looking particularly pleased."

"Wait!" Harry scrambled out of bed and picked up his robes. "Don't you think we'd sort of be prying into his personal family matters? I'm not sure Dumbledore would want to discuss this with us."

"And while we're at it, we can ask about those other two transfer students as well," Hermione continued, completely ignoring him, "Let's go!"

"But what about Ron?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and glared at his snoring form in the bed next to Harry's. "I tried to wake him up, but he merely swatted at me and went back to sleep. Let's just go ourselves."

Knowing that he was not going to convince her otherwise, Harry reluctantly dressed himself while she waited outside. The two crept out of the dormitory and hurried down the tower as quietly as they could.

"Do you think we should've taken the Invisibility Cloak?" Harry asked anxiously.

"We're not doing anything wrong," Hermione replied, "It would look more suspicious if we were caught wearing it."

They hurried down to the second floor of the castle and neared the corridor where the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office stood. Harry was so busy wondering how they were going to convince Dumbledore to answer their questions that he nearly ran into the man himself.

"And what are you two doing, running about the castle so early?" Dumbledore asked, but the twitch of his lips showed he was not about to scold them. "And without Mr. Weasley?"

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione was holding onto Harry's arm, having caught him after he nearly stumbled back, "We, er… We wanted to, well… to ask you a few questions."

Dumbledore nodded somberly. "You want to know more about my granddaughter," he said.

Hermione blushed and looked at her shoes. Harry thought that he was about to let them down gently, tell them that they were overstepping their boundaries concerning his private matters and send them on their way. He felt disappointment sink into the pit of his stomach. He had been burning with curiosity to learn more about Eliana despite himself.

"I was wondering when you would come to me with your questions," Dumbledore said, "But let us discuss the rest in my office and away from listening ears."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, hardly daring to believe their luck. Dumbledore spoke the password to the stone gargoyle (it was "Sugar Quill" this week), and they followed him down the spiraling staircase that appeared. Hermione had never been in the headmaster's office unlike Harry, and she looked around her in amazement. Harry thought that this was the perfect environment for Hermione to work in someday, surrounded by so many books and complicated magical instruments, which he was sure that she knew the function of each and every one. He noticed that the perch near the headmaster's desk was empty.

"Professor, where's Fawkes?" he asked.

"Ah, yes. I'm afraid he has taken his leave of the castle this year," Dumbledore said. He sat down in the large chair and interlaced his fingers on the desk. "After the arrival of our three new non-first year students, he flew away."

"Why?" Harry wondered as he and Hermione took seats in the chairs opposite the headmaster.

"I suppose I should start from the beginning. You see, Eliana was… unplanned, to say the least."

"Pardon me sir, but… we were surprised to find out you had any descendants," Hermione said.

"And aren't you… well, I mean…" Harry stammered. How could you politely ask your headmaster about his sexual orientation?

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes Harry, I am. Of course, that does not mean that I am incapable of reproducing."

Harry blushed. "Oh, I know that! I was just… er…"

"I understand, Harry. And believe me when I say that I had never planned on having any children. I suppose Eliana told you that I fell in love with her grandmother but we were torn apart by Voldemort?"

Harry and Hermione nodded. Dumbledore closed his eyes for a brief moment as if staving off fatigue. "I thought so. I can tell you now that it is complete poppycock. I am afraid that my granddaughter has an unfortunate tendency to over-romanticize everything to the point of changing the truth. Eliana's grandmother was the Queen of the Stars, as I'm sure she has mentioned to you. I myself had never heard of a magical royal family of the sort and thought this strange woman I met during one of my travels was merely pulling my leg, as Muggles say. She seemed quite offended when I would not acknowledge her royal status and then claimed that I would help her create a powerful child. When I told her that although I was flattered, I had no interest in women, she shouted that no man could resist her and bound me with powerful and unknown magic. I had never heard of 'celestial magick' as she put it; in fact, it was something that didn't seem possible in this universe we live in. Nevertheless, I was bound and trapped, and she then took advantage of me."

Hermione looked horrified and Harry's face paled considerably. Dumbledore noticed their disturbed reactions and sighed. "Yes, I have to admit that I was helpless. I was only seventy-six at the time and perhaps not as powerful as I am now."

Harry didn't want to point out that seventy-six wasn't exactly the pinnacle of youth. Dumbledore must have looked the same then as he did now and he certainly did not need the visuals that were currently going through his head. Oh God, he was going to have nightmares about his aged headmaster getting ravished now.

"I never saw the Queen again, but was sent a message a year after our… rencontre, stating that she had given birth to a son. He grew to become King of the Stars, and though I have never met him, I have heard that he knew all forms of magical martial arts, carried over several hundred weapons on his person, defeated a rather famous Muggle named Chuck Norris, and had scores of women at his feet."

Hermione spoke quietly, and was unable to suppress all of her derision in her tone. "Pardon me sir, but that sounds about as far-fetched as Eliana's description of her various origins as well as her special abilities."

Dumbledore smiled. "You are quite right, Miss Granger. I must admit that I was never too sad at not having met my son. The entire royal family sound like they are a handful as well as having either an enormous superiority complex or false modesty to garner praise. I am quite embarrassed at having any relation to them at all."

"And so my son married an Elven princess, or so I've heard. Of course, the only mention of such Elves are in a trilogy of books written by a Muggle author. How this is therefore possible is brushed off by Eliana without any explanation other than 'it just is'."

"Professor, can you explain how she was sorted into two houses and had a private suite magically appear for her?" Hermione asked.

"Two very good questions, Miss Granger. I have no idea why the Sorting Hat chose to put her in both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. As for her magically appearing suite, well… The castle sometimes has a mind of its own and has apparently deemed her special enough to award Eliana her own room."

Hermione was about to protest, but Harry quickly cut her off. "Professor, what about the other two transfer students? Is there anything special about them?"

"Apparently so, Harry. Miss Von Licorice lost both of her parents in a tragic accident involving broomsticks and a magically altered weasel. She has never gotten over their deaths, and has since then seen her uncle, her two aunts, her five cousins and her gardener all die very odd deaths. She studied at the Durmstrang Institute, a wizarding school in the northeastern part of Europe. They are known for having a penchant for the Dark Arts. Desdemona was beset with more tragedy while at school as her best friend fell victim to a badly stirred potion that blew up in her face, after which she believed herself to be a unicorn in a girl's body. Unable to be near her severely altered friend, Desdemona transferred this year to Hogwarts to escape the pain of her past."

Was that why she seemed so broody, Harry wondered. The dark makeup and pseudo-gothic clothes were things he had only seen Muggle teenagers wear. It was rather odd to now have a witch walking around in a corset and insulting anyone who annoyed her.

"What about Tasha Zenith, Professor?" Hermione asked, "To be honest, her clothes are quite… well, I'm afraid they can be deemed rather… distracting." She shot a glare at Harry, who grinned sheepishly.

"I didn't stare that much," he mumbled.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Miss Zenith. Well, as I have told everyone during the welcoming feast, she is an American witch who used to attend The Upper East Side School of Magic, Yo in New York. Her parents are very wealthy thestral breeders who have accepted a job position in England. They are in fact helping to multiply the thestrals for Hogwarts' carriage-pulling use, and therefore their daughter now attends our school. As for her school robes, I am afraid that Professor McGonagall has already attempted to magically alter them to fit our standard dress code. Unfortunately, it seems that the moment Miss Zenith's skirt reaches her knees, the seams begin to rip and it becomes short once more. The buttons on her shirt have even been magically stitched together, but they keep popping off. It would seem that it is impossible to cover her modestly in any way."

Hermione rubbed her temples, trying to stave off another headache. "This doesn't make any sense," she muttered to herself.

Dumbledore smiled in sympathy. "No, it does not. In fact, the reason Fawkes flew away was because he couldn't stand being near such illogical beings. But there is something more important that I must tell you. This concerns you especially, Harry."

Harry leaned forward, feeling slightly nervous. He wasn't sure he wanted Dumbledore to give him a task related to any of these girls. They were pretty damn intimidating, after all.

"If you begin to behave oddly, Harry, in any way at all, you must come to me at once. If you start to describe people or generally speak in very flowery and prosaic language, such as calling someone a tall brunet with cascading copper hair and sapphire orbs, tell me immediately."

"Why would I start talking like that?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore gazed at him through his half-moon spectacles, looking as grave as if he were talking about Lord Voldemort. "I am afraid these three girls give off some strange side effects, especially to those of the male persuasion. You may also feel as if you would want to start singing Muggle songs (which may not have been written yet) while feeling emotional or writing anguished poetry, but you must resist these urges at all costs. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, though he was feeling very confused. These were the strangest warnings Dumbledore had ever given him. What could possibly be so special about these girls?

"Miss Granger, I trust you will look after your two friends and make sure they don't get into any trouble."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said, looking determined.

Dumbledore smiled and the heavy cloud of foreboding that had been floating above them suddenly lifted. "Good," he said in a considerably more light-hearted voice, "Now run along to breakfast. Mr. Weasley must be down there already wondering where the two of you are. And good luck with your year."

Boy, were they going to need it.


I think that most Suethors seem to forget that Dumbledore is in fact over a hundred years old. Therefore, any granddaughter he would have had (if they are to be around Harry's age) must have been born from a kid of his, whom he would have concieved sometime after he turned fifty. So no, there is no hot young DILF Dumbledore to speak of, even if that were possible. He's all about the Grindelwald, baby. And Dumbledore would probably be against the idea of spawning such terrible Sues and Stus that in order for that to happen, he'd have to be literally raped (so that's what I wrote. Yes, this is a crackfic too xq) and only non-canon uberspeshul magic can hold Dumbledore down. Also, if Dumbledore rarely mentioned his actual family in the books, he sure as hell wouldn't mention his Sue-ish relatives if he could help it.

I gave Desdemona the obligatory wangsty past, complete with dead relatives and insane best friend. Does she have scars somewhere on her body because she cuts herself with her toothbrush? Possibly. And Tasha's clothes are forever to be skimpy, because the powers of Tootsitramp override such things as a dress code.

So now Harry has been warned by Dumbledore to come to him the moment he starts turning even the slightest bit OOC. Dammit Harry, if you can resist the Imperius curse, you can resist the Qanonreip curse as well. Yeah, so I didn't expect all of the Sues' backstories to be this long, so I decided to stop there. Next chapter, we'll get to the actual beginning of classes. Ta-ta!