I have nothing to say.
A millisecond after touching it, Albus Percival Wulferic Brian Dumbledore was certain he shouldn't have touched it. It seemed that a century of being a wizard hadn't taught him anything about what not to do when confronted with an Impossibility.
Expecting to be separated into the billions of molecules that made up Albus Dumbledore and then suffer these said particles to be spread all over the universe in testament to overwhelming foolishness, the Headmaster was quite surprised to realise that he was in one piece and standing on something solid. As the searing light began to fade, he blinked the brightly coloured spots around and then hesitantly opened his eyes properly.
A bathroom. It was decorated with dark blue tiles and sky-coloured paint. It was clean, small, smelt slightly of hyacinth and was dominated by a shower, a toilet and a sink, above which a mirror tastefully hung.
In any other situation, the old wizard would've commended the owner for its taste but right then, he felt completely confused. He hadn't known what to expect before he looked but a bathroom certainly wasn't on the list. And surely, having done something so silly as to prod something he knew nothing about, he should at least be suffering a badly decorated bathroom - perhaps painted a garish orange, with prints of Grindelwald, Voldemort and the Dark Mark?
Having reached the decision that this situation could be categorised as utterly odd, Albus turned around and took a decisive step forward towards the door.
Normally, a decisive step from the Headmaster would mean that people all over the place felt safe, that a certain black-haired, green-eyed, scarred teenage boy would look relieved, that a greasy Potions Master would suffer a brief unpleasant flash of impending doom and that the Head of Gryffindor House would either argue or look supportive. The scene might feature impolite, spluttering Ministers of Magic, happy red-heads, an excitable House-Elf, a paranoid ex-Auror and a woman with an inconstant hair-colour. It might just possibly involve some sort of monster which the groundskeeper insisted was friendly but actually wanted to eat everything and everyone near it. Given his past experiences, Albus was convinced that nothing could surprise him anymore.
So when the door opened to reveal a naked old woman, he was in no way prepared.
Albus nearly stumbled and fell from shock. Blood rushed to his cheeks and he quickly averted his eyes whilst the woman let out a cry of surprise. As with all other embarrassing situations with the opposite sex, Albus started babbling.
"T-terribly s-sorry - didn't realise - v-very v-very s-sorry to intrude - d-didn't expect - I-I-I-"
He sensed movement and risked a glance upwards, to see the woman now in a dressing gown which seemed to have materialised from nowhere. The Headmaster had time to register long, shockingly white hair, brown eyes behind a pair of oval spectacles in an old, scarred face and a grimace of shock and anger before she started shouting.
"WHO THE DEVIL ARE YOU?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?! SAY SOMETHING OR I'LL BLAST YOUR HEAD OFF!"
Albus became abruptly aware of the fact that the woman was pointing a wand at him with one hand and, in the other, holding something long and made of metal - also pointed at him. He had no idea what it was but it looked dangerous. He looked up into her brown eyes, which were flashing with rage, and found himself confident in her ability to carry out her threat.
He held up his hands in an appeasing way, painfully aware of fact that he'd left his wand back on his desk in his office. "V-very sorry, my name is Albus Dumbledore and I think there's b-been a bit of a m-mistake-"
Both the wand and metal thing were suddenly shoved up close to his face.
"Albus Dumbledore, are you? Hah! And I'm Santa Claus!" the woman snarled, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Alas, as Severus Snape had found out on more than one occasion, Albus simply couldn't detect sarcasm. This meant that he thought that that was very strange name but, nevertheless, held out a hand politely. "Pleased to meet you, Santa."
The woman looked at his hand as if it was an arm with the Dark Mark emblazoned on it. "Are you trying to be funny or something?!"
"No," said Albus truthfully. Laughing wasn't the right course of action at that time, he was sure of it. Instead, forcing himself to remain calm, he deciding to continue explaining. "I really am very sorry about this, I was just at my desk writing when I saw something strange. Stupidly, I touched it and the next thing I knew, I was in your beautiful bathroom. I do apologise-"
"Come off it, be serious - or I'll call the police! Or the Aurors! Or, alternatively, I could, as I specified earlier, BLAST YOUR HEAD OFF!"
The last four words were screamed out with such vehemence that Albus was forcefully reminded of the Potions Master in a temper. Part of him was astonished that someone his age could be that fiery but 95% of him was puzzled at 'Santa's' refusal to take him seriously.
"I assure you, I being quite serious. I won't trouble you any further if you could possibly tell me in whether I'm anywhere near Hogwarts-"
Slowly, both the wand and the metal object were lowered. The anger had suddenly faded from the woman's face, which now held a mixture of awe, amazement and confusion. Albus hoped that now the idea seemed to have got through, receiving an answer and a solution to his predicament would be easier. He opened his mouth but the woman started speaking before he could say a word.
"You're saying that you're the real Albus Dumbledore?" the woman said incredulously.
The Headmaster was rendered temporarily speechless. Confusion was a dominating factor, tempered with modesty: Virtually everyone knows who I am and what I look like - no reason for them to do so, of course, but still… He blinked as something else occurred to him. Even Gilderoy Lockhart had never succeeded in garnering such an expression of wonder on any devotee's face. Surely I don't merit that much awe…
"Yes," he said vaguely, as if identity was now something purely optional.
"But that's impossible!" argued the stranger suddenly. "You died! Ages ago!"
Albus found himself more amused by the idea than alarmed. This woman was clearly not in the right frame of mind. "No, no, no, I didn't," he said calmly. "Tom hasn't got me yet." He decided to press on. "Now, can you tell me whether we're in Hogmeade or somewhere else, because I need to get back to Hogwarts-" He remembered that the woman was somewhat confused. "-I'm Headmaster there," he added, in a slow, clear voice, as if he was speaking to a toddler.
The woman known as 'Santa' blinked and adjusted her glasses. Albus found himself under a penetrating stare, as if he was being evaluated and his soul was been examined. Then she suddenly looked very awkward. "Um…"
Albus raised his eyebrows at her hopefully. "Hm?"
"Hogwarts is…um…"
"Yes?" said Albus patiently. When people like Cornelius Fudge kept on talking to you, you learnt very quickly to be patient.
"Uh…" The woman bit her lip and suddenly looked sorry for him. The change of mood was so startling that Albus felt as if he was trying to follow a conversation that he'd lost track of half an hour before. "Hogwarts… Hogwarts is gone."
"Gone?" Albus adjusted his own glasses. The woman was clearly insane. How could Hogwarts be gone? Hogwarts was permanent. Hogwarts was a part of the earth. It wasn't possible for it to be gone.
"Destroyed," whispered the woman.
The world seemed to spin and everything seemed to blur, except for the woman's lips saying the dread word over and over again and it sounded in Albus's ears like the rattling breath of a Dementor. The Headmaster felt as if he was going to throw up. His face went slack with horror and an icy wind seemed to blow through his soul…
The scene suddenly started to zoom away and the trio felt as if they were being pulled backwards very fast. Just as Harry thought that his dizziness had reached a peak, they were suddenly standing in the Headmaster's office with the Pensieve lying on the desk.
With Dumbledore standing right next to him.
Numb with dismay, Harry looked at the Headmaster's face and winced. It was like thunder.
Clearly having been disturbed from bed, Dumbledore was dressed in a dark purple dressing gown and his face was lined with tiredness. But the trio didn't notice that.
All they noticed was the look on his face. Harry was sure that even Snape would've run away in terror when confronted with such an expression. It was like seeing a storm played out on someone's face. The blue eyes were cold with a glint of steel in them. The mouth was a thin line of anger. The cheeks were flushed with rage. Voldemort would've crumbled to dust before such a visage. In short, Albus Dumbledore looked as if he'd have liked nothing better than to toss all three of them in a cauldron and boil them alive. Harry heard Ron let out a small whimper.
"P-professor D-Dumbledore w-w-we - wereallyreallysorry-" squeaked Hermione. A small, detached part of Harry swelled in admiration for his friend - the fact that the young witch still possessed the ability to speak showed how brave she was.
Dumbledore said two words. His tone of voice gave a popular swearword a whole new level of venom.
The trio fled.