"Harry...Harry," a blurred figure called with a soothing, cool hand on his unsightly forehead. His Headmaster slowly came into focus. There had been a rough party the previous night and he had downed the equivalent of about half of his body mass in tequila.
"CHRIST!" cried the Halfblood Prince of Angst, crying out in pain.
"What is it, Harry, your scar again?" asked Albus Dumbledore, clear concern for the boy showing in his elderly voice. His earlier episode has caused quite a scare, but he was a wise and worldly man, and decided to burst into tears.
"No...eyes...twinkling...so bright...inducing...blindness," Harry managed to stammer. It was as if a thousand very shiny knives were stabbing continuously into his eye sockets. Dumbledore's bright blue eyes were going about their customary twinkling, as per usual. His Headmaster's crystalline tears only refracted the light even more, causing his charge to go into cardiac arrest.
After having had lemon drops shoved down his throat, Harry had resumed normal breathing patterns. "So," he asked, propping his chin on his fist, "why the hell are you sitting at my bedside?" He asked cheerily, his clear admiration for the man making him feel all warm and tingly inside. Or, maybe he was falling deeply in love with him. Who was a hormonally confused boy to say? After all, he did have that bizarre beard fetish...
"Well, before I break the news, I'd like to tell you that your poetry is excellent," said Dumbledore, still thumbing through a dark, factory-distressed leather-bound volume that had stickers from Hot Topic and caution tape pasted all over it. "Here, I'll read you my favorite!" He cleared his throat and began to read.
"'Darkness is the Void.
Filling,
My rotted corpse
Of a tattered soul
With a bunch of vampiric moles
Darkness,
Enveloping me in
The blankety blanket
of night
Dark, like my soul.
Darkness,
Darkness darkness
Darkety dark
Dark dark
Death.'"
Harry beamed and offered to get him a signed copy, but Mr. Shiny Eyes politely refused, saying that he didn't get books signed after Labor Day because of hammerhead sharks and their Mafia.
"So, my dear boy, that last stanza really touched me. It reminded me of my childhood friend, Mopsy. Mopsy was a mop. A very good mop..." Tears formed in the crevices surrounding his crinkled eyes once more and Harry yelped out in pain, writhing around in his sheets from the sheer agony of it; or maybe he just wanted to turn Dumbledore on. In any case, Dumbledore continued speaking.
"Anyway, it turns out that you are possessed by The Dark One and---"
"How can I be possessed by myself?"
"The one with no pupils, slaughtered your parents and countless Circus folk."
"Oh, that one."
"Yeah, so, it turns out you're a danger to the entire castle and the world. If you would kindly kill yourself, if would make my whole life a whole lot easier. A noose and a chair have been provided, so whenever you're ready, just go for it. Care for a lemon drop?"
"I'm on the South Beach Diet, but thank you."
"Anytime."
And, with that, Albus left the dormitory and proceeded to his office to do important things, like brood over his past.
Later that evening, the Gryffindor Prefect ran into his office with an apparent scowl on his face. "Headmaster?"
"Yes?"
"It didn't work."
"Damn," the Headmaster said with a sigh, "he must be on mental steroids, or something."