45.



zuruckspulen

I was watching my TV one night when they broke in with a special report

About some devastating earthquake in Peru

There were thirty thousand crushed to death, even more were buried alive

On the Richter scale it measured 8.2

And I said, "God, please answer me one question-

Why'd they have to interrupt THE SIMPSONS just for this?"

Weird Al Yankovic, "Why Does This Always Happen To Me"

In the darkest hole

you'd be well advised

not to plan my funeral

'fore the body dies

yeeeeeeaaah

-Alice In Chains, "Grind"

Incidentally, there is now a band called Harry And The Potters. They have a CD

out, with songs like "These Days Are Dark" and "Save Ginny Weasley." Jangly pop

with an edge.



(Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Rod Serling.)

Once upon a time, there was a town called Springfield. No one was quite sure

about its geographic location; it didn't matter, really. The people who lived in

Springfield were generally happy, even though the town had been voted America's

Worst City. It was THEIR city. In this world, it is represented by a television

show that is beloved worldwide. It has become a cultural institution, and the

characters are familiar enough so that if we could somehow find a way into their

world, we could concievably be more comfortable there than we are on the other

side of the TV screen. Springfield is a part of our collective consciousness.

We hear their voices in our heads. Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa, Maggie, Moe,

Barney...we can identify with all of them. They give us strength for life.

Once upon the aforementioned time, there were wizards and witches in Europe. Some of

them taught their crafts in a school somewhere in Ireland. Witness if you will the

school: a huge, magical castle called Hogwarts. The Headmaster's name was Albus

Dumbledore, and he was considered to be the greatest wizard of the age. His life

could have been written by the Brothers Grimm; he had three grand-daughters, two of

whom were malicious and vain, and one whose sweet nature and strong spirit affected

everyone around her. He also had a great-grandson named Harry whose powers awed him.

In fact, Harry's destiny was to be the greatest wizard of his time. Dumbledore loved

Harry, but then there was a terrible tragedy; through ancient magic, he was

able to protect Harry, even though neither of them were really happy; it was torture,

knowing Harry was being mistreated, while he was basically powerless to do anything

but watch. He consoled himself in the knowledge that he would watch Harry grow up at

Hogwarts,and he would guide the boy; he longed for a time when he could tell Harry

how much he loved him; every opportunity he had, Dumbledore let Harry know how proud

he was,and allowed him to live his own life, and let him discover that he was not the

abnormal freak his adopted family said that he was, but a true wizard from a long

and ancient tradition. Harry considered Hogwarts home; somehow, J.K. Rowling

types every word that comes out of his mouth. That's what writers do-they dictate.

Springfield and Hogwarts are real places, and they have become close to our hearts.

I don't know who said it originally. Maybe it was Mr. Rogers who said it, but

books are like friends. Particularly good books, because when you read them,

it's not hard to imagine the characters as your lifelong friends. It's easy

to come to think of them as real people.

If there is a point to all my rambling, it is simply this:

Places such as these can never really be destroyed.

-----

(thank you so much, Mr. Serling.)

-----

High above the ruins of Earth, Kang stared at the hopelessly irradiated planet.

He turned to his sister Kodos. "Oh shazbut," he said. "They finally did it, Kodos."

Kodos laughed. A moment later, Kang joined in.

He paused to vomit a slimeball.

He whacked it away with a playful swipe of his tentacle.

Kang watched it speed towards the wall.

It didn't get that far.

Unexpectedly, it slowed down, revolving on its axis in midair.

"Did you turn off the gravity?"

"I touched nothing," Kodos said.

As Kang watched, her mouth began moving in reverse.

----

Remus Lupin hadn't fared well in the nuclear holocaust. He had been reduced to

a pile of ashes that swept away in the wind. Alastor Moody had been crushed under the

statue of Hans Sprungfeld, more commonly known as Jebediah Springfield. The plaque

accompanying the statue had not been damaged. It read A NOBLE SPIRIT EMBIGGENS THE

SMALLEST MAN.

A car sat across the street. It had been upended and pretty much crushed in

the explosion. There was a dead woman in the passenger seat-not one of the

regular characters, just a middle-aged woman named Christa Tobler, who would

have been attractive if her skin hadn't melted off. She had been listening to KBBL,

and surprisingly, KBBL was still transmitting. Not very well, of course. What was it

playing?

The SUPERMAN theme.

(daaaah dat duh da daaaa...daa daa daaaaaah...)

Yeah. The theme from SUPERMAN, just beginning,a lone trumpet trilling

against the dark loneliness of the universe. Then, other brass and wind

instruments join in, and as they played...the wind shifted. The trumpets

reached their thrilling crescendo and the rain began falling upwards, and as it did,

the statue of Jebediah Springfield rose into the air and regained its position on

the block. In the distance, the fearsome mushroom cloud began to dissipate, shrinking

in on itself, faster and faster until-

----

-Dumbledore raised his head.

Minerva had slumped into his shoulder. For a moment, he feared she had died.

He noticed several things, however. One, they were joined by a length of

chain; she had thrown it around him, and it kept her from falling to the floor

now.

Secondly, Harry was gone.

There was no sign he had ever been there.

Third:

...birdsong.

There were birds in the tree outside, singing their hearts out.

There was a tree outside.

Two little girls skipped down the sidewalk, chanting a rhyme.

She had done it, somehow. She had brought the world back to life.

That was when he saw what was connecting them, tethering them together as if

they were about to make love for want of a bed. Not quite able to believe it,

he pulled it away and held it in one hand, supporting Minerva with the other.

It looked like a normal egg timer.

But it was so much more.

"A Time-Turner," he whispered.

Carefully, he put it on the bedside table.

Then he lifted Minerva and laid her down on the bed.

In a moment, she opened her eyes, and blinked.

"Albus?" she asked. "Did it work?"

He smiled. "It worked, my dear."

She touched his cheek; he held it there.

Slowly, she sat up,drawing her legs under her so he could sit beside her.

"How long have you had this?"

"Albus, I've had it since Monday."

"You didn't tell me."

"I didn't think I'd have to use it," she said.

"How did you get it?"

She smiled guitily. "I nicked it from Fudge's office. I said I was lucky-"

"Are you sure she isn't inside you?"

"I'm sure. We have three hours to live over."

"But-"

"But nothing, Albus. Let that future pass out of possibility. Tom may be alive

again, but what is that measured against the world?"

"Minerva McGonagall, you Scottish cat-goddess, I could kiss you."

He did just that. It was a while before either one of them pulled away.

She put a hand on his knee, and then reconsidered.

"Considering what we just witnessed-"

"Say no more," he said. "I was thinking the same thing."

He sat back.

"He loves us," Dumbledore said.

"Did you expect anything less?"

"I tried to tell him everything," Dumbledore said. "There...wasn't time. But Minerva,

when I can finally tell him...he'll accept it."

"Of course he will."

Then, from downstairs:

"Mr. Simpson?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said. He turned to her. "I-"

She just smiled. "Where were you three hours ago?"

"On the couch downstairs," Dumbledore said. He rose from the bed. "We'll,

er...continue this later."

"Bloody right we will," she said.

"I knew there was a reason I married you," he said.

"I know exactly why I married you," she said.

He bowed to her. Then he hurried out of the room, down the stairs,

walked into the living room and sat down on the couch.

The kitchen door slammed.

"Mr. Simpson?"

He came in from the kitchen.

Harry, oh my Harry, you're alive again-

He stepped closer.

"Sir...why are you crying?"

"I lost something very dear to me, Harry."

He put a hand on Dumbledore's shoulder."Please don't cry, I'll help you look. We'll

find it."

"No need, Harry, I found it. These are joyous tears."

Harry nodded. Then he took a Kleenex out of his pocket and pinched Dumbledore's nose.

"Blow," he said.

Dumbledore did.

Harry looked from Dumbledore to the Kleenex and back again, smiling.

"Now it's magic Kleenex," he said.

Dumbledore felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and in the next moment, laughter

poured out of him; the sound of healing.

"I was going to look for Mr. Simpson," Harry said. "I think I should stay with you.

Are you sure you're all right, sir?"

"Thank you, Harry, I am now. There are some things that need to be done,

however. But they can wait a moment. Have you ever seen the film RUTHLESS PEOPLE?"

"No," Harry said.

"It's an excellent film, and it will be on shortly. Before that, however, I

think I need some fresh air."

"Yeah, I was coming to get you."

Fawkes and Maggie, he thought, but said nothing.

He stood up-

-and then the front door opened. Homer Simpson walked into the living room,

whistling, and just as he passed the television-

"Homer, WAIT!"

Homer nearly hit the ceiling. "What is it?" he asked, trembling.

"You nearly stepped into one of the traps I set."

"I don't see any traps."

"Of course you don't," Dumbledore said. "They're invisible."

Homer slapped his own forehead. "D'OH!"

"They're all over the room. Just a precaution. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," said Homer, who looked like he wanted to scream.

"They are set on a timer," Dumbledore said. "It would be in your best

interests not to move for the next three hours."

"Okay," Homer said. "I'll just watch TV. But I have to take my dad his

medication-"

"I'LL take it."

The three of them turned to see Professor McGonagall standing in the hall.

"Are you quite sure, Professor McGonagall?"

"Quite, Headmaster."

"Really, you don't-"

"I insist."

"In that case, Homer, give her the medication."

"Mind the traps."

"Traps?"

"Professor Dumbledore set invisible traps all over the room," Harry said.

She read the look on Harry's face like an expert.

"Ah,yes. Those infernal invisible traps of his. Well, Mr. Simpson, I expect

you're set for the next few hours or so. Do you have your father's medication?"

Homer dug the bottle out of his pocket and threw them to Professor McGonagall.

"Now don't move, Mr. Simpson. I'm sure you don't want to be turned into a toad, or

suddenly be attacked by pies."

"Mmmm...invisible trap pie..."

"I'll be back shortly," she said.

"Minerva?"

"Yes, Headmaster?"

"Room thirty-four."

She nodded, and left.

"Harry, come with me," said Dumbledore. "Mind the traps."

"I can't see them, Professor."

"That's right, I forgot." He turned to Homer. "You know, sometimes I forget he's

still a student." He turned back to Harry. "I'll lead the way."

He took a giant step forward. Harry did the same, and followed Dumbledore as

he ducked.

"Best place for a giant claw, you know," Dumbledore said, gesturing at the ceiling.

Harry followed him into the kitchen, and out the door, into the backyard.

Between them, their combined attempt at composure lasted about five seconds.

Harry nearly fell over, laughing.

Dumbledore wanted to pick Harry up and swing him through the air.

He resisted the urge.

"Wh-" Harry looked up at him, holding his stomach. "Why'd you do that?"

"I did it for his own good, Harry."

Harry sat down on the bench.

"For his own good?"

"For his own good."

Harry just nodded.

Dumbledore sat next to Harry.

Harry. Then, right on time, Fawkes flew past them, Maggie Simpson in tow.

"Oh, that bird's going to be the death of me," Dumbledore said.

He looked over at Harry, and knew he'd misspoke.

"Don't worry, Harry," he said. "Let me do the worrying."

"I don't mean to make you worry so much," Harry said.

"Could be worse," Dumbledore said. "You could have been an alcoholic. Or a cad.

I could be paying your rehabilitation expenses or for your girlfriend's abortions.

Instead, you have chosen an entirely different path, Harry. There are young people

out there who've given up...I've seen them everywhere I go and it just-" he wiped

at his eyes again. "Any more tissues?"

Harry handed him another tissue; Fawkes chose that moment to land on the table.

"You do care about ME too much," Harry said.

"Not possible," Dumbledore said.

Fawkes climbed onto Dumbledore's shoulder, bobbing his head.

"Arr, matey," he said, and Harry laughed. "Captain McAllister, at yer service."

Harry laughed.

Maggie pulled Harry's ears.

"Professor-"

Professor Dumbledore pulled Maggie off of Harry and sat her on the table.

Harry began to get up.

"Harry, could you sit with me awhile?"

Harry looked back.

"...please."

"Yeah...sure."

He stayed where he was.

"I'll teach you how to play poker," Dumbledore said.

"...Poker?"

"Is something wrong with poker?"

"Um...well. My uncle-"

"Your uncle is a gigantic git. And I've known some of the most gigantic gits

in the history of gitdom."

This time Harry smiled.

"I don't have a-"

Dumbledore reached behind Harry's ear and came away with a full deck of cards.

"You just misplaced them, I'm sure."

----

Minerva McGonagall, her head up and back straight, went directly to the Springfield

Retirement Castle without stopping anywhere. She had been studying the town little

by little each day, and felt that this could be construed as a nice walk outside.

The weather was as overcast as it had been, and she felt quite inconspicous.

She knew that she had come upon the Retirement Castle when the whistling started.

She rolled her eyes. Could any of these men keep up with her? Albus was the only

one who could do that.

She felt nothing on the way across the lawn; she could not imagine what Harry had

felt. For a young man, he had developed a high tolerance for pain, so high he bore

everything without complaint. Even Umbridge's razor quill. She had heard about the

bloody thing, and after Dolores had been driven out of the castle, she had found it,

and tried it out. Fortunately, she had brought Poppy along, and the pain was

temporary, albeit excruciating. That monstrous bitch had used the thing against her

children; that knowledge was more painful than any cut.

The thing was that Harry's hand was not scarred. After all those detentions,

after having his hand slashed open over and over again-

Knock on wood, but she was glad Dolores Umbridge was dead. Those Muggle gangbangers

had filled her with enough lead to make a million pencils.

One of the men met her at the door; he had a beard nearly as long as Albus's and

ovulescent,staring eyes. "Hey, baby, I got two good hips-"

"But can you dance?" she asked.

"Depends on the music," he said.

"I'll be right back," she said. He grinned and got out of her way.

The second she entered the Retirement Castle, she transfigured.

----

"You know, Harry...I never got the chance to tell you-"

"Tell me what?"

"What I thought of your interview. The article, last year. I found it to be



honest, done for all the right reasons-"

(not to mention that you talked about the graveyard,about being TORTURED, how he hurt

you more than you may ever admit to anybody, even me, but then I KNOW)

"-came off as you do in person, and...well, the staff drank to you. Right in front

of Umbridge."

Harry smiled.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask a personal question?"

"Fire away."

"Is your brother the barkeep at the Hog's Head?"

Dumbledore smiled. "He certainly is."

"I knew he looked familiar," Harry said. "I'm figuring things out," he said.

"That's quite a feeling," Dumbledore said.

"What's he doing to those goats?"

"Next Hogsmeade trip, ask him. It's nothing unnatural, don't worry."

"There's...one more thing."

"What is it?"

Harry looked down at his cards.

"I shouldn't even have to ask this," he said. "But-"

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"Last year...when Voldemort told you to kill me...would you have done it?"

Harry had seen Dumbledore happy, sad, angry; he was a man who felt things deeply.

He had never seen Dumbledore look truly shocked.

The cards spilled out of his hand.

He opened his mouth to speak; for a moment, he made no sound.

"I had to ask."

"Don't you know what that would have done to me?"

Harry looked at the table. Dumbledore put a hand around his shoulder.

"Harry, doing that would have destroyed me. It would have killed me."

"Is that why he wants to kill me?" Harry asked. "To get to you?"

"That's a large part of it," Dumbledore said.

For a moment, they were silent.

"Would you excuse me a moment?" Harry asked.

"Of course," said Dumbledore.

Harry got up and headed towards the house.

Dumbledore turned.

"Harry," he said.

Harry looked back.

"I just wanted to tell you something," he said. "It's nothing complicated, just

a very simple, honest thought. I just...wanted to tell you that...you do matter."

Harry looked up at him, shifting from one foot to the other.

"I've made my feelings known to you. They are not conditional, and shall never

change. I'll just say again that I'm prouder of you than I can possibly elaborate and

that...I love you. If you aren't comfortable being that close to anyone right now, I

shall not pressure you."

He turned back to the cards. He didn't immediately notice Harry; he had walked

back to the table, reaching out, as if he were uncertain.

"It's all right, Harry," he said.

Slowly, Harry pulled Dumbledore to him, as a traumatized child might cradle a teddy

bear in the dark. Dumbledore held onto him, almost wishing they were not flesh

but stone, or marble.

"I want to," Harry said. "I want to so much-"

"When you're ready," he said. "Not a moment sooner."

"Okay," Harry said.

He let go of Dumbledore.

"Let me show you something," Dumbledore said.

----

Of course, after she transfigured herself, someone cooed "Oh, LOOK, a KITTY," and

picked her up. Whoever it was certainly used a lot of skin unguent; they smelled

like an pharmaceutical company. She knew what was coming next and that's exactly

what she got; countless hands stroking her fur, telling her what a good kitty she

was. "Get your hands off me," came out as a meow.

---

Dumbledore led Harry up the stairs; Harry had never been up here. He didn't

know what to expect. Books, certainly, but-

"Sir, you have an autographed copy of DRACULA?"

"Oh, yes. Feel free to look around. We have plenty of time."

"All these are yours?"

"If you ever want to borrow anything, just ask. No ancient spellbooks here,

just the finest writings I've come across in my life."

"I wouldn't know where to start."

"Well, start with HITCH-HIKER. That's an excellent beginning."

Harry nodded.

"This is not why we're here. Follow me."

He followed Dumbledore to an ancient-looking door in the wall.

Dumbledore opened it. "Lumos," he said, and his wand lit up the room.

There were hundreds and hundreds of shelves. On these shelves were

stacks and stacks of envelopes. All of them were addressed to him.

It was impossible to see the ceiling.

"This room doesn't literally exist within the castle," Dumbledore said.

"Are all these letters for me?"

"Oh, yes. You got as many as Hedwig and the other owls could handle, but as you

can see...I apologize if-"

"No," Harry said. "I understand why this was necessary."



"I respected your privacy," Dumbledore said. "I didn't open any of them, although

you can tell some of them have...how can I say this politely, er...candid

photographs in them?"

Harry grinned.

"Remember these are here," Dumbledore said. "Someday, you and I are going to

open each and every one."

----

"Bart?" Dumbledore asked.

"Hey," Bart said.

"How did you get back here?"

"Professor Trelawney made me a portkey."

"So you've had Divination, then?"

"Yeah. I think she needs a break. She kept mentioning something about "divergence."

She took two cups and when she looked in the first one, she screamed 'We're all going

to die,' and fainted. So I had some time before my next class..."

"Bart," Dumbledore asked, "If you don't mind my asking...what do you do for fun?"

"All sorts of stuff. Why do you ask?"

"Could you keep Harry entertained? I need to...run a few errands."

"Oh. Yeah, sure. I have Defense Against The Dark Arts in a while,though."

Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder.

"You have my permission to miss class today."

They caught Harry coming downstairs.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, "There's something I must do-"

"Will you be back?"

"I'll be back, I promise. We'll finish your instruction. In the meantime, Bart

will keep you company."

"First lesson," Bart said. He went over to the phone, picked up the reciever,and

dialed a number. He held the reciever out to the two of them.

"Moe's Tavern," came from the other end.

"Yes," Bart said. "I'm looking for a Mr. Hewage. First name...Ross."

"Ross Hewage," Moe yelled. "Ross Hewage? Hey, you guys, go check the bathroom and

see if you can find Ross Hewage-"

The three of them laughed, especially Dumbledore.

"You little bastard," Moe said. "If I ever find out who you are, I'm gonna tattoo

a picture of your ass on your face so I can kick your butt TWICE." He slammed the

phone down. Harry laughed even harder.

"I can see you're in good hands," Dumbledore said. "Bart, a moment please?"

He and Bart walked into the kitchen.

"Want some beer or something?" Bart asked.

"It's a bit early for me, Bart. Listen, you have Defense Against The Dark Arts

today, but don't go. I need you to take a message to Professor Trelawney. You

have my permission to miss class. Is that clear, Mr. Simpson?"

"Clear as...uh...Clearasil, sir."

"Good," Dumbledore nodded. "Pardon me."

He walked back into the living room.

"I will be back," he told Harry

He Disapparated.

---

Professor McGonagall entered the room. She took in all the beeping machinery,

and then saw Mrs. Riddle in the middle of it all. She was asleep, but her mind

could have been voyaging elsewhere.

She walked to the head of the bed.

Then McGonagall leaned down to Mrs. Riddle's ear.

"Die, you evil old cow," she whispered.

On her way out the door, the beeps turned to an alarming whine.

By the time anyone realized something was wrong, it was too late.

----

In his office, Seymour Skinner suddenly became extremely nauseous. He

fell in front of the wastebasket, and vomited as if he were a slot machine

with which someone had just scored a jackpot.

The door opened. "Move over, Seymour," Edna said, and he handed her the

wastebasket. "Euugh, it's all BLACK-" she said, and he turned away while

she lost her lunch.

Another form filled the doorway. "Skinner," Chalmers yelled, and that was all he

could get out before Edna handed him the wastebasket.

----

Dumbledore knocked on the door of Hagrid's cabin. The door opened,and Addie Sprout

stuck her head out. Her shoulders were bare. She saw Dumbledore, and looked

horrified. "Headmaster...I-"

"Would you and Hagrid join me outside,please?"

She smiled, and then closed the door.

He waited by the jungle gym, humming to himself. An airplane went by. He watched

it until it disappeared.

Finally the door opened. It turned out to be Hagrid, holding the door for Sprout.

"Is there trouble, sir?"

"I need your assistance."

"What d'ye need,sir? Jus' name the job, and me and Addie'll get on it."

He bent down and plucked a blade of grass. "Take this portkey to the Simpson home.

Homer Simpson will be in the living room. Ask him about boss, Mr. Burns-most

importantly, where he lives. Then go to wherever that is and prevent him from

leaving."

"This should be interesting," Sprout said.

Hagrid took the portkey. "Got yeh, sir," he said, grinning.

"I knew I could count on you, Hagrid."

Sprout and Hagrid disappeared together.

------

There was only one thing left to do, and he didn't know if he could do it. At

least not by himself.

"I have never in my life laid a hand on a child, but-"

"That's why I'm going," Alastor said. "To make sure ya don't. Right?"

"Very astute, Watson."

"I thought I was Sherlock Holmes and you were Watson."

"I've always been Holmes, Alastor."

"Is Tom Moriarity, then?"

"Tom is hardly Professor Moriarity material."

"If ya say so," he said. "Who are we shakin' down?"

"Harry's cousin."

"Oh, my fat little friend Dudley?"

"The same. I have learned that he burned Harry with a cigar."

"That little berk, I'll KILL him."

"No," Dumbledore said, "That's exactly what we must avoid. He may be...quite

disturbed. I paid a visit-" He thought a moment. No, not now, he hadn't. "Let's

just steel ourselves."

"No matter how much we'd like to permanently incapacitate him," Moody said. "Why

doesn't Potter ever talk about the shit these people hurl at him?"

"Because he's afraid his complaints would just be dismissed as the whining of a

celebrity, Alastor. You know how he hates being famous."

"Yeah, yeah," Moody said. "Maybe he doesn't remember some things."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Dumbledore said. "I'd like to get back soon. There's a film I

happen to like that will be on soon, and I'd like to watch it with Harry. RUTHLESS

PEOPLE." He smirked. "I'm sure you've seen it."

"Last movie I saw was DEBBIE DOES THE DISHES."

"Yes...well..."

------

Hagrid found Harry outside, along with Hermione and Ron.

"Hi, Hagrid," Harry said. "Bart's getting a rocket. Want to see it?"

"Just a second. I'm on a mission for Dumbledore...is he teaching you

how ta play poker?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

"'S a man's game."

"It is, isn't it?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes at Ron.

"Just get a chess set out here," Ron said.

"No question 'bout it," Hagrid said. "Yeh're becomin' quite the man, Harry."

Harry smiled. "I'm just glad I've lived this long."

Hagrid didn't know what to say.

"People are basically decent, aren't they, Hagrid?"

"A lot of 'em are," Hagrid said. "All my friends are." He smiled. "Most of 'em,

anyway." He looked at the three of them. "That's the one o' the best thing 'bout

friends. They care enough ta keep yeh honest."

He looked away.

"Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"I'm a bit homesick," Hagrid said. "But yeh know what? I've been here since

Sunday evening an'...nobody's stared at me. Yeah, the kids did when Skinner

introduced me, but that's different, yeh know. Kids stare out of wonder. When

you firs' saw me, how did yeh feel?"

"I felt like you'd understand me," Harry said. "I mean...you're the first one who was

ever nice to me."

Through all the mud, they'd remained friends. Closer than that, even. For the

umpteenth time, Hagrid looked upon Harry as a proud father would at a son.

"Yeah, well," he said. "I-"

"Hagrid, there you are," Sprout said, coming through the back door.

"Did yeh find out where Burns lives?"

"I certainly did," she said. "Afternoon, Harry."

"Good afternoon, Professor Sprout."

"The Headmaster's teaching you how to play poker, I gather?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah."

"Don't be embarrassed. S'a valuable lesson."

----

Skinner stumbled out of the office.

There was someone standing in the hallway.

"You," Skinner said.

"Me?" Fudge asked.

Time bucked like an angry stallion.

Skinner stumbled out of his office.

There was someone standing in the hallway.

"You," Skinner said.

"Me?" Fudge asked.

Time hiccupped.

Skinner stumbled out of his office.

----

Once again, Privet Drive.

Of course, the two of them were invisible.

"I hate this place in the daylight," Moody said.

A truck blasting The Darkness's "Get Your Hands Off My Woman" turned into

Privet from Wisteria Walk.

"Is that Tiny Tim?" Moody asked.

Dumbledore laughed.

"No, it's a group called The Darkness, Alastor. I've heard some of the students

playing their music. I do pay attention to their likes and dislikes, you know."

"Yeah, of course ya do." He grinned. "What's Potter's favorite band?"

"He's at an age where he's still deciding, Alastor. Though I once observed him

tapping his quill to a song by a band called White Zombie. 'Super-Charger Heaven' I

believe it was called."

There were owls everywhere. Moody fed a barred owl he passed on the lamppost.

In moments, they stood in front of The House.

"You ever wonder what they'll do to this place once Harry gets out of here?" Moody

asked.

"I think on matters concerning Harry constantly," Dumbledore said.

"They'll wanna burn this place to the ground and purify the negative energies."

The two of them stood in front of the door.

"They're home, I suppose," Moody said.

"Oh, they're home," Dumbledore said.

He knocked on the door.

A very long moment later, Vernon Dursley opened the door.

If looks could have killed, Vernon would have been melted into a puddle of

protoplasmic ooze right there. Dumbledore usually tried to find the good in people,

and didn't usually give up. Dolores Umbridge was one such failure, and Vernon

Dursley was another. Vernon was well past due for a heart attack. Dumbledore had

never had a heart attack, but supposed they were terrifying as an experience.

"VERNON, DEAR, WOULD YOU GET THE DOOOOOOOOR?"

"LET DUDLEY GET IT, DEAR-"

"Christ," Moody said.

"DUDDYKIIIIINS...DUDLEY, DARLING, where AAAAAAAARE youuuu..."

"I'LL GET THE RUDDY THING MYSELF!" Vernon screamed.

"It's like Monty Python without the jokes," Moody said. "These people are the

living embodiment of The Most Awful Family In Britain sketch."

The front door swung open. Vernon Dursley peered outside. He grumbled, and

stepped outside onto the walk. The wizards made their way inside.

"Where is he?" Moody asked.

"Well, not long from now, he'll be in his room."

"Doing what?"

"Don't ask."

"Ah," Moody said. "Yeah, wouldn't want to interrupt him, jerkin' off. We'd both

go blind."

"Shhh..."

Dumbledore walked past the cupboard under the stairs again. Moody barely managed it.

"Speaking of psychic cleansing," Moody said.

He was all right when he entered the kitchen.

Dumbledore, at the window, said "He's not in the garage."

"The garage?"

"He and his friends have a band. Jack and The Rippers."

"Attila and The Huns," Moody said.

They stepped out of the kitchen.

"Vlad and The Impalers," he said, passing the stairs.

As they ascended the stairs: "Joan and The Arcs."

"Joan OF The Arcs," Dumbledore said.

"Yeah," Moody said.

They came to Dudley's room.

"Look, if he's in there, pecker in hand, I reserve the right to gouge my eyes out."

"Alohomora," Dumbledore said.

The door opened.

The room was empty.

However, it was much messier than it had been. Dudley obviously had yet to clean up.

Dumbledore knew Dudley wouldn't have cleaned up unless he absolutely had to do so.

"Where could he be?" Dumbledore asked.

"Lay down a Silencing Charm, would you?" Moody asked.

Dumbledore waved his wand. "Silencio," he said.

There was a scrapbook sitting on Dudley's bed.

Dumbledore sat down next to it.

Neither of them wanted to open it.

Of course, Dumbledore did.

The first page had almost nothing on it.

It simply read...#1.

"First one," Moody said.

Dumbledore turned the page.

Both men sucked in breaths of air.

There was a newspaper headline glued to the page.

NEIGHBORHOOD CHILD FOUND DEAD AFTER WEEK-LONG SEARCH.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and began to read.

"The body of seven-year-old Brian Dorsey was found in a drainage ditch, after a week-

long effort by search and rescue workers to find him. He went missing on Monday,

September twenty-first. The boy apparently fell in the ditch and drowned."

The next page held several Polaroids of Brian Dorsey. Before and,well...after.

The last one was a photo of his killers posing with the corpse, holding him up

by the shoulders as if he were part of their gang.

One of the boys in the picture was Dudley Dursley.

"This is Dudley," Dumbledore said. "And these are his friends. Piers, Malcolm, and-"

"-and they killed this kid."

"I had this investigated," Dumbledore said. "My contacts assured me it was

far away from Harry, that he was in no danger-"

Dumbledore turned the page.

There was a piece of paper glued to the page.

#2.

He turned the page.

HAVE YOU SEEN ME?

There was a picture of an old man; the poster described him as having Alzheimer's

Disease. There was no newspaper article.

"They never found him," Moody said.

There were pictures, though.

They had done strange things to his face and one of his eyes, so that-

"He looks like me," Moody said. "Dammit, they made him look like ME."

Dumbledore turned the page.

#3.

Dumbledore turned the page again.

There was a picture of a goldfish, lying amidst a sea of asphalt.

"They killed a goldfish?" Moody asked.

"They killed someone's beloved pet," Dumbledore said.

"First one's an accident, then a disappearance, then a goldfish, and #4-"

"Why didn't I see this?" Dumbledore asked.

"I never figured Dudley for a murderer, myself," Moody said.

Dumbledore felt ill.

He remembered-

"The fourth victim was a little girl," Dumbledore said.

"How do you know that?"

"I read the newspapers," Dumbledore said. "Last summer, a little girl went missing-"

"Was it anywhere near Harry?"

"Nowhere near Little Whinging. Alastor, she was found a field and the things that

had been done to her-"

"You gotta turn the page," Moody said, gritting his teeth.

Perhaps it was to punish himself that he turned the page; more likely, it was

the need to know that drove him. He turned the page, and the pictures of the little

girl and what they had done made both men cry out, and the book dropped to the

floor.

The one place Harry was absolutely safe was not safe at all.

"It's not your fault, Albus."

"I can't believe it," Dumbledore said. Then he picked up the book again and turned

to the next page.

#5.

The next page was a picture of Harry.

The picture had been taken with ordinary film; Harry did not move. In fact, he

was not conscious. Harry was asleep in bed, and to get the angle, Dudley would have

had to have been standing over him.

Or straddling him.

Dumbledore let the book fall away.

It hit the floor.

The door burst open.

Dudley Dursley stared at the two men.

"Here,what's-"

(four arms appear in the camera frame and drag Dudley offscreen.)

----

Skinner stumbled out of his office.

There was someone standing in the-

----

"HELLLLLP!" Dudley screamed "SOMEBODY HELP ME-"

"Oh the green hills o' Somerset go rolling to the sho-oore..." Dumbledore sang,

as loud as he could.

Dudley stopped yelling and stared at him.

"There's no point in yelling, boy. There's a Silencing Charm on this room. No one

can hear you."

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Really, Dudley, I certainly hope you don't use that language in

front of your mother."

"Don't fuckin' tell me how to talk, you old bastard."

"If that's the only way you can communicate, I'm perfectly capable of lacing

my vocabulary with enough profanity to suit your needs." He paused for a moment,

looking at Dudley over the tops of his eyeglasses. "I can even do it in a foreign

language, if you prefer. Sometimes it amazes me, how many languages I know-"

"You have not heard profanity until you've heard him swear in Mermish," Moody said.

"Look, who are you and what the bloody hell do you want?"

"Dudley, you know that great-grandfather that your mother always tells you

fell off a cliff and lives in somewhere in America, being fed through a tube in his

throat? Well, it turns out that that's me."

"So you never had an accident," he said. "You're just...one of THOSE people?"

"What kind of people would those be, Duds?"

"A freak," he said. "Like Harry."

"There's some of me in you," Dumbledore said.

"No," Dudley said.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore smiled. "Someday, you might be able to do something with it,

Dudley. Maybe you'll blow a clock off a wall by looking at it, or dream about some

terrible event halfway across the world." He picked up the scrapbook and threw it at

Dudley.

"We know what you've been doing, Dudley. I've watched Harry very closely over

the years, and as a result, I know a great deal about you. I know you and your

friends made Harry's life a living Hell when he lives here. I know about the cigar

burn. I know you terrorized him." Dumbledore said.

Dudley paled.

"Ah, you thought you were alone? No, my boy. I was right there watching, unable

to intervene. Am I frightening you?"

"Yes."

"Yes...WHAT?"

"Yes what...what?"

"Yes...SIR."

"Y-yes, sir, you're scaring the shit out of-"

"I HAVEN'T EVEN BEGUN!"

He yelled it so suddenly, even Moody jumped.

"I'll warn you just once, Dudley. Cooperate with us...or I'll be very...very...scary.

I can be very...very...scary when I choose to be. Have you got that?"

"Loud and clear."

"Loud and clear WHAT?"

Dudley jumped. "Loud and clear S-sir."

"Why are you and your friends murdering people?"

Dudley thought about it.

Finally, he shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. "We're bored."

"Bored?"

"We've beaten them all up," he said. "Something new, you know?"

"And Harry is number five." Dumbledore said.

"And that fucking owl," Dudley said. "I got scared, the year before." He pointed at

Moody. "Him and a bunch of others met us at the station and told us not to fuck with

Harry."

"Who do you suppose authorized that?" Dumbledore asked.

Dudley looked at him for a moment.

"You?"

Dumbledore put his hands together and clapped.

When he finished, he studied Dudley over the tops of his fingers.

Here it comes, Moody thought.

"Do you know what night terrors are, Dudley?"

"No," Dudley said. "What-"

"Harry was kept under the stairs for quite some time, wasn't he? Years?"

"Years. Yeah."

"I was there, that night. He cried and cried and screamed...not because he was

afraid...you see, it's terrible when we first realize the darkness. I was on the

other side of the door, and I could not interfere. Your father's reaction was to open

the vent and yell SHUT UP. He's probably blocked it out of his conscious memory.

But that's all right, because he has so many people who want to help him."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"How would you like to feel the way Harry did that night, all the time? Not just at

night, but in the daylight? Like there are spiders spinning webs inches away from

your face, as if there's no light anymore, as if there's only darkness that the

strongest sunlight cannot blot out?"

"I,uh...wouldn't like that."

Dumbledore leaned close to Dudley's face.

"Well, I can make it happen," he said.

He pointed his wand at Dudley.

"Obliviate," he said.

A beam of light sent Dudley to the floor, where he began snoring.

"You enjoyed that," Moody said.

"Not as much as this," Dumbledore said. He produced the letter from his robes and

showed it to Moody.

Moody read it. While he read it, he laughed himself silly.

They left it on Dudley's dresser.

---

"Fudge, what are you doing here?"

Cornelius Fudge blinked.

"Albus, thank Merlin, listen-"

The door to the Principal's Office opened.

"You," Skinner said. "What's your name?"

"Albus-"

"No, Seymour. Stop. Please." He said this as if he were reciting the alphabet.

"What's your name?" Skinner asked again.

"Cornelius Oswald-"

"Lee HARVEY Oswald," Skinner yelled, not caring if he made sense.

He charged Fudge, and suddenly the hallway was full of people,

aurors, most of whom Dumbledore recognized.

"We tried to HELP you-" Fudge screamed, trying not to get hit by Skinner's punches.

A flurry of hands pulled him away from Fudge, and by that time, Mrs. Krabappel and

Superintendant Chalmers had emerged from th office.

"Fudge," Dumbledore said, "What in the world is going on?"

"The Ministry was invaded, Albus. These people were possessed-

"-simple operation-" Dawlish was saying.

"-Weasley running around like-"

"Weasley," Dumbledore said. "Is Arthur all right?"

"Not Arthur," Fudge said. "Percy."

Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared beside Dumbledore. "Percy Weasley was running around

the Ministry zapping people, Albus. He was like that muggle in that movie...I can't

remember the title,but it's about a lone man battling ruthless terrorists in a-"

"Oh,you mean DIE HARD," Dumbledore said.

"Exactly, it was just like DIE HARD."

(that's why no one could get through, Dumbledore thought. Percy shut everything

down and stunned everybody affected by Tom's mother.) Dumbledore couldn't help but

smile.

"Where is Percy?"

"I don't know," Shacklebolt said.

"He's out here," someone yelled, and Dumbledore found himself in a stampede towards

the front doors. Two aurors were carrying him, his arms slung over their shoulders.

His feet were dragging across the hallway and his glasses were broken.

----

Percy woke up in a bed so big, he figured it was Hagrid's.

He groaned.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?"

Headmaster Dumbledore smiled down at him.

"Hello, Percy," he said. "Thirsty?"

"I'm not worthy to accept water from you," Percy said.

"Nonsense," Dumbledore said, tilting the glass to Percy's lips. "I daresay you owe

your parents an apology," he said. "But not me."

"Do you think they'll even listen?" Percy asked.

"Percy, your parents are dear friends of mine. They're both wonderful, loving people,

and I can honestly say that I believe they will."

"I got so caught up in everything," Percy said.

"The thirst for power makes fools of us all, Percy. But you were not Head Boy for

nothing. You had everyone's confidence.

"Yeah, except my brothers."

"They love you too. Especially Ron. Ron needs a brother."

"He's got Harry."

"Don't begrudge Harry that, Percy. Please."

"I s'pose you're right."

"Of course I'm right." He smiled. "You should get some rest."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Is Skinner kicking Fudge's arse?"

"He was doing his damndest, last I saw him."

"Slap some sense into Fudge, won't you?"

"The way I feel, I just might. Hagrid will be along shortly. I'll see you later."

"See you," Percy said.

Dumbledore left.

Percy stared at the ceiling.

---

When he arrived back at the Simpson house, he discovered that Minerva had come back.

The children-Harry, Hermione, Ron, Bart and Lisa-were gathered around her, laughing

as she read from THE HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY. "You half-crazed Visigoths-"

she read, and then she noticed him. "Headmaster, hello."

"I trust you were successful?" He asked.

"Yes," she said, and he understood the look in her eyes. "It's done."

"So it is. May I join you?"

"We were just leaving, actually," Ron said. "Hermione wants to go to the

Knowledgeum."

"Oh," Lisa said,"Can I come?"

"Yeah, c'mon." The three of them left.

"I have to get back,too," Bart said,"Can I have a portkey?"

Dumbledore handed him a lemon drop. Was it the one he had given Harry in that

other future? He knew thinking about it would just give him a bad headache, so

he let the thought pass.

Bart took the candy. A moment later, he disappeared.

Dumbledore sat down. Now Harry was sandwiched between them.

He found her hand.

Anyone who could have seen them would have had the right impression; two devoted

senior citizens spending time with their beloved grandson. Or great-grandson.

For awhile, they just sat in silence.

Finally, Harry said, "What happened to Dolores Umbridge?"

"She's dead, Harry."

"She's dead? How did she die?"

"You know, there were parents who wanted her head."

"I wanted her head," McGonagall said.

"Some of the students have permanent scars on their hands from that damnable quill."

He looked down at Harry's smooth, unscarred hands. "I went to America to...look into

some things...over the summer. Well, little did I know that she found a teaching

job."

"Who would hire HER?" Harry asked.

"We happened to have commissioned the same transportation...I kept my distance

from her, but she insisted on telling me all the things she did. She told me about

sending the Dementors after you and all sorts of other things. She was hired as a

subsitute teacher in Cleveland, Ohio. And it drove her completely insane."

("HAND, Mr. Sallee!")

("I don't think I can manage a hand. All I can give you is one finger.")

"Her neighbors burned her house to the ground."

"Why did they do that?"

"Somehow, she ended up on a list of registered child molestors."

"How?"

"Nobody knows. Basically, the kids in her class made her life a living Hell. They

took over. They forced her to write with that quill."

"Good," Harry said. "What did she have to write?"

"She didn't write anything intelligible. They made her use her tongue."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment.

"I know it's terrible," he said. "But I'm glad she's dead. After what she did to

Hedwig-"

Dumbledore sighed. "I,too,was outraged after she told me what she did to Hedwig. She

was quite proud of herself."

"Let's not even think of her," Minerva said.

"I quite agree," Dumbledore said.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Are either of you hungry? I could make us some lunch."

"I think we should make you lunch," Dumbledore said.

"We could make lunch together," Harry said.

"After the film," Dumbledore said.

"The film?"

"RUTHLESS PEOPLE, remember?"

"Is it three o'clock?"

"Almost," Dumbledore said.

"I hope Homer's all right."

"I forgot about him," Minerva said.

Dumbledore closed his eyes...and took a deep breath.

"You owe me a game of poker," he told Harry.

"Later," Harry said. He gathered the cards up-

"Ah-" he gasped.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," Harry said, his finger bleeding. "Paper cut."

---

"Hey, Draco."

Draco looked around.

"Simpson?"

"The stairs changed on me, and I can't find the way to Trelawney's. Could you

help me?"

"We'll talk later," Chillinger said.

-----

There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it, sir," Smithers said.

"Of course you will," said Mr. Burns. "Whoever it is, release the hounds on them."

Smithers opened the door. A plump, crusty woman with messy hair stood on the other

side. "You must be Mr. Smithers," she said. She offered her hand, which was

dirty. "Professor Adrianna Sprout."

"May I help you?...Professor?"

"You certainly may," she said.

"What exactly are you a professor of?"

"Well, let me see...I have a list of credentials a mile long," She grinned. Her

teeth weren't the greatest, but she was far away from THE BIG BOOK OF BRITISH SMILES.

"My main field is herbology, although I'm also a competent entomologist and hold

degrees from-"

"Never mind. What do you want?"

"My partner and I are here to ensure you and Mr. Burns do not leave this property,

at least for awhile. I've got a volume of THE COMPLETE WORKS of e. e. cummings

and-"

"Smithers," Burns called "Have the hounds been released?"

"About your hounds," Sprout said. "My partner's probably found them by now..."

---

"Good doggie," Hagrid laughed, as the hounds licked his cheeks.