A/N: This chapter contains HBP spoiler, don't read unless if you didn't read Book six, or do if, yah know, you want major plot point to be revealed…. Well……… I did warn you!

Diclaimer: I do not own beanie babies, or payless shoe store, or smuckers, or the national wildlife bird finder club of the trans alantic highway(okay that one I made up, so I do own it, BOOYAH, take that copy right people) I do not own the band Good Charlotte… I do not claim to own Good Charlotte… infact, I don't even like good charlotte (except for that song "I just wanna live" because he sounds like he got kicked in his "special place") I do not own any shares in the state of alabama, or my great grannys mashed potatoe recipe, I don't own uno Ino (even though I do) I do not own the rights to the card game slap jacks, or have the ability to tell if one will "Die in seven 'work' days" and sock puppet aliens do not (even though they do) have a plan to take out my brain bit by bit while I'm sleeping and replace it with a brain of a hybrid pigeon pig, I do not own the term pigeon pig, I can not leap 12 stories in a single bound or chew gum at 5.5nanosecents per a minute, and I can't spell second (oh wait I just remembered how)

am I forgetting something….

oh yes……

I do not own the Harry Potter idea or anything, I do not claim to and am making no money off of this piece of uber crap (unless someone wants to… I except badgers and giniue pigs and mice, infact, any pet rodent will do, and…..umm….oh oh… confederate coins… oh and American Greens, because I am CANADIAN, and I love out "funny" money dearley, but American "clone" money is worth just a fraction more, and more is better because I can buy more stuff… or less stuff depending if I shop at the 99 cent store or Le Chatue, you can buy fish nets there…) ummm oh and I also don't own Fawks the pheonix or the drug Acid (nope no drugs at ALL)

And remember…

Just because I'm paranoid does not mean they are not out to get me!

Oh and this one is dedicated to my very bestest friend Chantal, heres to you girl, you inspire me to be a little bit insaner every day.

The monster in my closet came out in drag!

Dumbledores Dilema

The old wizard paced across the floor in his oval office, he did this quite often. Pacing was Dumbledores thing, it helped him think. What was he to do, the huge dilema was impossible to deal with. The wise man looked over to his most trusted companion, fawks the pheonix.

"Fawks, my friend, please help me"

The pheonix just stared at the aged man with disinterest, he didn't care. Dumbledore rolled his ever twinkiling eyes at the eternal bird. How did thins happen, how could it, it must have been the deatheaters, ordered by Voldemort to taunt him, so he'll, perhaps, let down his defences, but that would never happen. Maybe it was the ministries doing, trying to presuade him to give up his position (ooo… position). Maybe even tell them about the prophecy, or convince Harry to do all that publicity crap for the minister. It would not work, their schemes were useless. Albus Dumbledore would not be swayed by futile attempts, even if they were his favorite pair.

"Oh I'm so sad, look at them Fawks, LOOK AT THEM!"

The deranged headmaster shoved a pair of big, whooly socks in the bueatiful birds face. The socks, were full of holes (they were holy socks) and a rather disgusting shade of puce. Dumbledore started to cry, while petting at his destroyed socks.

"My lovely socks, I got them many years ago for christmas, they were a pressie from mummy. They were the last thing she gave me, before she… she… she… retired to hawaii"

The bird just stared at the crazy old man like he was… well… crazy, but Dumbledore either didn't see or chose to ignore the birds harsh gaze. He continued to cry over his newly puce socks.

"They were such a lovely shade of purple before, went so well with my Merlin Robes"

Dumbledore gazed fondly off into space, being all nostalgic and shit.

"I wonder, will I ever get them back to their original goodness"

The wizard in terrible need of a shave, caressed the sock lovingly, with his weather worn(and super uber bearded) face, the tears visibly showing.

"Well if they're ruined, I guess I should give them an appropriate burial, I think I have an old shoe box around here somewhere"

Dumbledore dropped the socks on his offic floor and ran to his many shelved shelf, and got himself an payless shoestort shoebox. He placed the puce green socks into the box, gently and conjured up a few roses to put over them, he then used spell-o-tape to secure the lid shut. Dumbledore stuffed the shoebox coffin under his armpit (stinky) and gestured to fawks.

"Come Fawks… to the SANDBOX"

The bird stared after his senile friend, shaking his fiery feather head.

"Why did I ever convince that man to do acid with me"

Then Fawks, the pheonix, proceeded to burst into a brilliant blaze of fiery flames.

"WHHHEEEEEE!"

This my friends is the first chapter of the " In The Memory Of" series, I will be doing one chapter dedicated to every person that has died or was mentioned to be dead (and possibly the ghosts) in the Harry Potter Series, I hope you enjoy them, plz Review, pretty please, reveiws make me happy… unless they're bad reveiws, those make me slip into a blinding rage and hunt down the perpetrators, unless it is constructive don't CRITISIZE me!

Thank you

WTSB