"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law so that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime so heinous that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court

"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law so that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime so heinous that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court."

~Bartemius Crouch, Sr.

Most Muggles went their entire lives without even suspecting their underground magical world, but Maggie always knew there was something fishy about the man who came in her bowling alley every Monday morning during the summers. His fashion sense, for one thing, set him apart. He wore khaki shorts and a different patterned Hawaiian shirt every week. But the oddest article of clothing was his hat. It looked like something a sorcerer in a movie would wear, pointy with stars and moons on it. He had a knowing twinkle in his blue eyes, and a long white beard.

He wasn't a bad bowler, as seniors went. Maggie watched him pick up a spare with eight pins in the second frame with interest. Although not a bad bowler, Maggie realized, with a satisfied smile, that she was much better than he was.

She frowned. How strange. He was one of Maggie's best customers, and yet he somehow creeped her out. Maggie shook the feeling out of her head. Odd as this man was, she tried not to let herself worry about him. He paid his fair share, therefore he deserved fair service.

He reached over to pick up the ball, breathed on it and rubbed his hands over the marble surface, making it gleam. He went into his throw, and watched it speed towards the pins; a fox in pursuit of the chickens.

Not his best, but nothing to be ashamed of. He marked it with the amusing half-pencils the Muggles used.

The bell over the door jangled merrily, "Another customer!" it seemed to shout to Maggie, "Profit!" it yelled as the door hit it again while closing.

Albus Dumbledore looked up to see who the new arrival was.

"Ah! Merriweather Longbottom!" he said as the tough old bird moved to the counter. She was pulling a boy behind her.

The lady smiled as she gave the man a look of recognition. She wandered from Maggie's register and went straight over to Dumbledore.

"Albus, it's been far too long," she said cordially.

Dumbledore smiled and took her hand. "My dear, you get lovelier every time I see you," he told her. Well, she does look better than Severus looked in her clothes, I imagine, he thought, giving himself a chuckle.

Dumbledore then noticed Neville, who was standing beside his grandmother. He was definitely getting taller with each passing day, but he was lean, too. Dumbledore frowned. He looked just like his father, Frank Longbottom...but Dumbledore shook the sensation out of his mind.

"So, Mr. Longbottom, you will be starting your fifth year at Hogwarts soon?" Dumbledore said in a conversational tone.

The boy nodded nervously under the twinkling blue gaze of the headmaster, but stopped his nod at the look from his grandmother. He knew what she would say: "Answer him properly, Neville. He is your elder and deserves more than a nod!"

"Y-yes, sir." Neville said, backing up slightly and bumping into a soda machine.

Dumbledore nodded and smiled, but he was disturbed. That poor boy is a nervous wreck, he thought. And it's all... but he stopped that thought. One should never dwell on such things, he reminded himself firmly. And yet…

*

Every witch and wizard slept in the morning after young Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort, for they had been up late celebrating the night before. But, old as Dumbledore was, even then he was up just as early as ever, scanning the headlines of The Daily Prophet and The London Times. A day in the life of Albus Dumbledore could not be interrupted by something as trivial as sleep.

He sat on his large green plush armchair in front of the fire, a cup of tea in one hand and the paper in the other. Dumbledore sighed at the redundant headlines in both papers.

HARRY POTTER DEFEATS HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED, the front page of The Daily Prophet said. There was an entire section devoted to Harry that morning; Dumbledore even read some of his own quotes on the boy. Of course, there was only a brief obituary on Lily and James Potter, which annoyed Dumbledore.

OWL SIGHTINGS UNUSUALLY HIGH, the Muggle paper read. Dumbledore chuckled. Even when magical activities were at their highest, the Muggles only noticed the most trivial things that came with it.

He went back to The Daily Prophet and flipped to the International section. ABERFORTH DUMBLEDORE CHARGED WITH INAPPROPRIATE GOAT CHARMS, said the next headline, and Dumbledore gave a start.

He shook his head angrily. As he read the article, he couldn't help but wonder how his younger brother got himself into these things.

Dumbledore wanted to write to his brother, but then he realized that Aberforth probably couldn't read anyway. Which was probably a good thing, considering all the hate mail that Aberforth (and me, too, Dumbledore thought with a groan) would be receiving.

Dumbledore decided that if the matter got out of hand, he'd have to go in and say a good word or two for Aberforth, but just then, Dumbledore heard shouting from his fireplace in his office.

Dumbledore smiled as he walked out of his living quarters and into his office. He knew Alastor Moody's voice from anywhere, and he saw his face poking out of the fireplace in his office. But, Dumbledore could also read trouble on his best friend's face.

"What is it, Alastor?" he asked, wasting no time on pleasantries with his old friend.

"We've got an emergency over at the Ministry," Alastor said. "Mr Crouch's son is being accused of being a Death Eater...it's madness here, and if the press gets the gist of it, it'll all be over. We need you over here right away, if you don't mind..."

Dumbledore sighed. His brother would have to wait, but he promised himself he'd get to it soon – even if it meant leaving in the middle of a crisis. Aberforth was family, after all. He told Alastor he'd be right there, and when his old friend's head had disappeared from the fire, he threw in some Floo powder, and stepped in saying, "The Ministry for Magic!"