Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Damn!
To the Dumbledoriada!
Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster, Chief Mungup, prided himself to be a very patient man. After all, he did not conquer a Dark Lord by loosing his coolness and awesomeness in hardship and need.
Of course that the above mentioned character enjoyed wearing bright colored robes, from baby pink to chicken yellow, with mismatched pointy hats that always ended in a fluffy puff. He disposed of an endless supply of lemon drops, surmounted only by an even more limitless resource of cheerfulness. He hummed in the halls, always having a certain spring in his steps, his long white beard doing a merry dance, all by her own.
Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was en enigma among the students attending the school he ruled.
According to the Gryffindors, he was a benevolent grandfather, always there to give advice and care for you. No matter that the advices he always gave were... hmmm... let's just say odd and out of topic. He was fierce and brave, after all he defeated the Dark Lord Grindewald, the personification of Light. He was a leader, a partner in crime, that managed to understand their needs at all times.
For a Ravenclaw, the Headmaster was a strange sort of human puzzle. Eccentric and unpredictable, always keeping all of them on guard, he disrupted all patterns of behaviorism, confusing all ravens alike. Consequently, the house of Rowena tried and tried to decipher the puzzle, to find a logic in the pattern, to understand the brilliance of the man, if there ever was one. Unfortunately for the ravens, he was the one exception, the one situation, the one riddle the books held no answer to.
For the Badgers, Albus Dumbledore was the awesome Headmaster and for this alone, he had their loyalty. The House of Helga Hufflepuff was a House meant to follow and follow it did, until the very end.
Now, the most sane perception of the Headmaster was held by the House of Snakes. Amongst them, the seemingly inoffensive grandfather with a sunny disposition, was seen as very dangerous man. The snakes saw behind his twinkling blue eyes and excruciatingly mismatched robes, a man that held no scruples, no kindness, and no benevolence for those who were different, for those who were snakes. Albus Dumbledore was dangerous man to be avoided at all costs.
In this specific moment in time, the focal point of our musing was once more pacing the floor of his office. Up and down, up and down, his beard fluttered, occasionally getting in his mouth and preventing him from talking to himself. He then grabbed it, and with a frustrated huff, he thrown it over his shoulder, ignoring the fact that it did never stay that way.
„I did it all by the books" he muttered, while twisting and twisting his canary yellow hat.
„I left him all alone, in that God forsaken Muggle neighborhood with his Muggle relatives that hated Magic! It was supposed to work!" he kept uttering and uttering, again and again.
„He was treated with contempt, he was isolated, he was broken day and night, for Merlin's sake!" he cried, while shaking his fists furiously in the air.
„And what did I get? A snake?" he continued, his voice twisted with contempt.
„Oh Circe's tits! I am getting old..."
„I did warn you Dumbledore, the night you left him with that filth!" and old man from an even older portrait spat.
„Buzz off, old piece of parchment" Dumbledore huffed, shoving his once again jumping beard into his robes.
„You've gone barmy with old age, Headmaster, you rip what you saw" Phineas Nigellus spat from his painting, before disappearing without another sound.
„I am not a fool" he continued, „but the similarities are there... Both orphans, both unloved, both Slytherins... The mirror was not the key, after all he did not find it. Perhaps moving it into the third floor was not one of my brightest ideas, but mentioning said corridor at the feast should have risen some curiosity, right?" he mumbled to himself.
„Then... Bloody snakes! Not knowing what they're up to. A Gryffindor Harry Potter I can handle. A Slytherin one... Bloody fucking snakes. The Fates definitely hate me!" he cried, finally dropping himself into his golden wicked throne -errrr seat.
„Nevertheless, blood is thicker than water, he will come around. He will see the light. He will! By Gods, he will, one way or another, even if it's the last thing I do!" he sputtered, dropping his fist one his golden Table of Doom - errr office desk.
Ceasing his internal musings, that were not so internal after all, the Headmaster popped a lemon drop into his mouth again and started to hum Hogwarth's Hymn on a cheerful tune. He nodded once more, relaxing into his seat, ignoring the missing painting that ran from the rant of the coot.
The mirror was hidden once more, it's secret room hidden from prying eyes. Opportunities? From abundance, as long as the school and it's Headmaster were there.
Meanwhile, in another secret room, on the highest tower, a different council took place.
Ghosts and portraits alike, joined by a slightly crazy poltergeist were crowded in a silvery room with green hues.
On it's middle, on a high platform, ornated with silvery snakes intertwined, stood a 6 feet portrait featuring a tall and handsome man, petting the scales of a dormant huge snake.
„The man has lost his mind, Your Highness!" spat the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.
His statement was met with a murmur of agreement from the magically painted crowd.
„He is very suspicious of young Potter's sorting. He tried to over-rule it, offending the old laws and magic that aided in creating Gideon, The Sorting Hat!"
„He strolls through the halls like a mad rabbit bunny, eating those THINGS" Elisabeta Bathory continued, in her steady controlled tone
„While ranting and raving in the solitude of his office" continued the painting of Malicious Throme.
„He placed the boy with Muggles! Magic hating Muggles, Salazar!" one yelled.
„They tried to beat the magic out of him, My Lord!" screeched another, on a very outrageous tone.
„He is unfit to rule this school!"
„When was he ever worthy?" snorted another.
„The worthiness is not in discussion as it never was" intervened the unearthly voice of Helena Ravenclaw. „It's all about balance. Good, evil, dark, light, yin, yang. But the lines have been breached, the concepts have blended. Light will fall to madness while dark will arise and purge this world. The Headmaster has his role as we have ours." she finished with a bow.
„The Fates have spoken, Caolainn has given her blessing to the House of Serpents on the Hallows Eve Night. The will of the Mother will be done, as there is no way to withstand it." the Bloody Baron continued, empty eyes meeting vivid green ones.
These statements were met with deafening silence.
Salazar Slytherin rose from his unorthodox coiled seat, his emerald green eyes taking in the unusual self invited guests of his sanctuary.
„I have removed all versions of myself from all paintings that reside in this castle. The temptation to intervene was far to great for me, as I would have loved to blast the old fool into oblivion" he begun, his voice steady, controlled, laced with power.
„Our friends spoke the truth. Caolainn has blessed my Heirs, my line, and through them the House of Slytherin, changing the balance of power. Hogwarts no longer recognizes Albus Dumbledore as her Headmaster, but still, she cannot remove him from his Seat as long as the Ministry does not revoke his appointment or dismiss him. Hogwarts has no master but she has a Champion, a Lord, and her choice is none other than Harry Potter."
Whispers arose from those who attended the gathering, heads nodding, anticipation and excitement, embraced with the soft humming of agreement that came from the walls, from the floors, from the air itself.
„Thus, I ask you, my friends and allies, to support young Harry Potter in his Rise to Power. Not for me, but for what is right, for the Old Ways to become New once More!" Salazar continued, his voice carrying through the room, across the walls, into the very essence of Hogwarts herself.
„For the Dumbledoriada!" yelled Peeves. „Ohhhh, dung bombs – check, water balloons-check, nasty potion too be used on sweetly yellowy sweets-check, dragon manure-check, packs of Cornish Pixies- I have to find a way to get my none existent hands on some way to get them... Dumbledore will definitely not know what hit him!" he insanely cackled with glee to himself, while going round and round, higher and higher, laughing and laughing, again and again.
„Now we'll never manage to educate him", sighed the Fat Friar, the gleam from his eyes denying his softly spoken words.
„To the Dumbledoriada, indeed" smirked the young Salazar Slytherin while resuming his activity, green eyes filled with mischief.
A.N. I am so very sorry for the delay but life got in the way of my writing... Hmmm that rimes :D
Got a promotion to a manager position, had to open two call centers and I did not find the time to write anymore... But, I will get my groove back and finish the stories I have in my twisted mind :)
Any constructive criticism is highly appreciated one more. Thank you for your patience.
Next update: Sunday, 4th September