This is parallel to Thanks for the Socks. It's about Dumbledore. Right then let's be off.

Albus and Tom, A Tea Time Story

Dumbledore's office lay in ruins. He sat there staring for a long time after Harry had left. The antique desk was ruined, there were scratches all over the sides and top.

"Oh no...That was from the 3rd century," Dumbledore whined. All the wood paneling on the walls was scratched, the furniture was torn, and his books were all on the floor with some of the pages ripped out. Dumbledore was extremely upset. All of these belongings Harry had destroyed weren't replaceable. He would never get another birthday card from Ferdinand Magellan, nor would he be able to replace the lingerie set Merlin had bought him. The recipe for the Philosopher's Stone was burnt, and his only copy of How to Act like You Know Everything by Cirrus Granger lay in a smoldering pile on the floor.

Dumbledore began to cry. After the students went home for the holidays, Albus just sat in his office for hours upon hours. He stared at all the irreparable damage. Everything in there was antique, all of it priceless. Sometimes he cried, and other times he just spaced out.

Back at the Britney Spears Center for the Dark Arts, Voldemort was worried. He hadn't received any hate mail from Albus Dumbledore in over a month. He was usually sent at least one letter from Dumbledore a week. They usually said things that were extremely hurtful to Voldemort, nonetheless, Voldemort was worried. He stared down at one of the letters Dumbledore had written him:

Dear Ugly Dark Lord,

You are a poop. I hate your guts. I hope you have loose bowels tomorrow. You're a meany, and deserve to eat dung.

Anonymous

"Your majesty, I have a plan!" Lucius came bursting through the door into Voldemort's office. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO KNOCK!" Voldemort bellowed at a cringing Lucius, "That's it! You have to clean the loo for the entire week!"

"No, please, my lord. Crabbe and Goyle are staying over this weekend. You know what a mess they make, please my lord," Lucius was groveling and begging. "Lucius, you know I have no mercy, especially concerning people barging in on me. You'll understand some day, once you are almost a Dark Lord. Since I'm immortal, you can only become an almost Dark Lord. Muahahanyway, what was it you barged in for?"

"Well, you know the number of Aurors who have tried to investigate our head quarters has been extremely high. I for one am tired of giving lap dances to hide what's really going on. It probably doesn't help that there is a sign outside under the address with 'The Dark Lord's Headquarters' on it. So I have devised a plan. We are going to drill under my house. It will be underground! How cool is that!"

"That is pretty sweet, Lucius. How kind of you to sacrifice your house, but I wont permit it. Narcissa's cookies are absolutely marvelous. I wouldn't want to associate with her for her own safety, and to keep the a generous supply of cookies. How about we do it somewhere on your property. You do, after all, own about 520 acres of land. "

"Okay! "

"Well then, that's settled. Go clean the loo," Lucius grimaced and left silently, not wanting to clean the loo for another week.

Voldemort decided to go see if the old fool had finally died. He apparated into Hogsmead, forgetting he was still in his pajamas. He looked down, roared, and changed into a sweeping cape with tight leather pants and no shirt with a flick of his wand. "Not the look I was going for, but I guess it will work for now," Voldemort thought to himself while gliding towards the castle. Dumbledore forgot to lock the front door, and Voldemort opened it cautiously. Wow, Voldemort thought, if I knew infiltrating Hogwarts was this easy, I would've had that Potter boy a long time ago. What a waste of my life. Doom Doom doom. Ah, here it is. The Dark Lord had arrived at the gargoyle. He, after all, had been the head boy, and knew where the headmaster's office was. Now all he had to do was think of a password.

"This makes things rather difficult," He said to himself, "What would I use as my password? Hmmm... Buttercup...? Damn. Daisies...? shit. Oh Herpes! I give," He was cut off by the sound of the gargoyle moving. "Muahahaha, I am the master of the universe!" Voldemort ran up the stairs and burst through the doors.

You could say he was more than surprised at the sight he met. Albus Dumbledore was sitting in a corner bawling. "Ahem," Voldemort cleared his throat and Dumbledore looked up, "Sorry to bother you and all, but I was wondering what had happened to the hate mail? Are you all right?"

"I haven't the time, Tom, look at this place. And no, I'm not all right," Dumbledore whined. "What happened to this place?" Voldemort inquired. "Harry Potter is what happened, a hormonal teenage boy. I mean, this office will never be the same. The original decorator is dead. I doubt I can find another interior decorator up to the same standard." "I see, why don't I make some tea, and we'll have a little chat about it? How does that sound?" "Good, I guess," Dumbledore replied sulkily.

Throughout tea, Voldemort and Dumbledore chatted about a multitude of different things. Voldemort had given Dumbledore the business card of a very prestigious designer, Versace. Voldemort and Dumbledore had exchanged numbers and decided to meet each other for tea tomorrow and call this versace. According to Voldemort, Lucius had called this Versace person and had his whole house redone; and it had turned out fabulous.

"Soo, I'll come over for tea around two?"

"Yes, excellent. Thank you for stopping by." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes had returned, and for the first time in a month, Dumbledore left his office.