A/N: This was beta'd by the fantastic Toki Mirage. Read her fics. They're great. Thanks, Mirage.
Chapter 38: Bump in the Night
Something creaked, and Albus's eyes flew open. His glasses were off, and the quarter moon outside did nothing to help him see. His tower was pitch dark, but Albus could hear that something was moving in the room next to his bedroom. He quieted his breathing and listened.
There was no sound for a moment, but then Albus heard the definite whisper of a door opening very near. Someone or something was in the next room. Albus frowned in the dark. The castle hadn't alerted him to an intruder, nor had any of his own personal alarms gone off. House elves weren't that loud, and besides, the house elves were all downstairs, busy cleaning up after the Halloween party.
Albus had offered rooms to the muggle band to stay the night because the party ended very late, but he was certain that they were really just muggles and wouldn't be able to get into his rooms.
—Or maybe that's why they hadn't tripped the alarms! Albus thought about how he'd coded the alarms...Had he done it by magical signature? Would muggles have even registered?
Yes. They would have. Albus wouldn't underestimate muggles. Not after...
He softly swung out of bed, forgoing his slippers to maintain his silence. He moved to the door gracefully, despite the darkness, and listened. There was no sound except for his heart beating in his ears. Albus wondered for a moment if he'd imagined the noise, but then the confidence he had in his senses and mind kicked in and he redoubled his listening efforts. He still heard nothing, and pressed his ear harder against the door.
Something whooshed quietly behind him and he spun around. There was nothing there, but he dashed back to his bedside table to grab his wand.
The wand was gone.
Then he noticed the chilly draft coming through the open window. That window had definitely not been open before.
But where was his wand? Besides leaving him relatively defenseless, losing the elder wand could mean terrible things. Who would have— could have taken it? Had he even put the wand on his bedside table in the first place? He usually did, but maybe he'd left it in his office after the hour he'd sat there, tracing his fingers around the face of his new watch. Maybe he'd put both the watch and the wand in a drawer before going to bed.
The whereabouts of the Elder Wand was now more important than his own safety, so Albus decided to go find it. He knew it was possible that someone had come in through his window and taken it, but he also knew the wand wouldn't work properly for anyone who hadn't actually disarmed him or killed him. If whoever had broken in had done it expressly to steal the wand, it was possible that he or she (or they) knew about the wandlore behind the Elder Wand. If they knew enough about the wand, they would be appearing shortly to disarm or kill him. It was also possible that they didn't know about the wand, and that they'd just leave or try to cast spells on him with his own wand, which wouldn't work. Probably. Of course, when he thought about it, Harry'd managed well enough at the Black's house...But then again, that was Harry.
The one of these possibilities that Albus decided to investigate was that the wand was sitting in his desk drawer, un-bothered. Going to look was the most useful course of action, favored over staring out the window, sounding the alarm, or trying to find someone who could lend him another wand in the middle of the night.
He opened the door slowly and silently peered into his living room.
The headmaster's tower was made up of two and a half floors. The large, oval-shaped office was on the first floor, at the top of the escalator. Above all of the paintings of old headmasters was a balcony that ran all the way around the room. Against the wall around the balcony were bookshelves. The balcony served as a sort of half floor, open to the first floor. Above the balcony, accessible by a tight spiral staircase, where the headmaster lived. On that floor was a small living room, a dining room, a bathroom, a round, cone-ceilinged bedroom.
To get to his desk, Albus had to exit his bedroom, cross the living room (which housed his handsome pajama wardrobe, slightly out of place, but only Nicolas, Harry and Minerva knew that was what it was for), go down two spiral staircases, and cross the large, slightly cluttered oval office. In the dark.
He'd forgotten his glasses.
He decided that speed was more important than visibility, so he crept across the living room towards the spiral staircase.
When he was half way across the room, his bedroom door slammed shut. He whirled around, but couldn't see anything but vague, stationary shapes in the darkness. Nothing moved, so he darted to the rest of the way to the spiral staircase. He flew down the flight to the balcony, and, for a split second, considered looking out over the office below. He decided against it and continued down the second flight of stairs.
He descended on his desk, his hands finding the right drawer immediately. He quickly patted the bottom of the drawer, finding some of his more important artifacts such as the watch Harry'd given him only a few hours earlier. The wand was not there.
His wand was gone.
He narrowed down the scenario. It was not the band, it was not the house elves, and he was not imagining things. None of those conclusions were good.
Albus summed up his assets. He had a sorting hat, a mysterious and emotionally charged pocket watch, a cabinet full of various potions, a lot of quills, a letter opener, and—and some wandless magic.
During the month Albus was away, he'd practiced doing magic without his wand. He'd worked on some basic charms, and had even gotten quite good at summoning things to himself from around his hotel room. With a click of his fingers, he could have his toothbrush whizzing to him from the bathroom, or with a clap of his hands he could make the bed. The more he practiced, the trickier the magic he could do, but one thing stumped him. He could never turn lights on or off. He could conjure a very warm fire, but it never seemed to cast any light. He could even conjure a torch or flashlight, but it would never switch on. Similarly, he couldn't put out lamps or torches. He couldn't do anything to magnify existing light, nor could he do anything to dampen it. It was such a strange phenomenon that he almost wrote to Harry three times. Almost.
With the exception of the light problem, he'd been quite pleased with his progress, and on numerous occasions would find himself picturing the moment he would return and proudly show Harry his new skills. Then he would remember the conditions of their parting, and his stomach would roil with guilt for the way he'd spoken at Harry. And then he would remember why he'd lost his temper, because his watch was broken. Thinking of the cracked glass, he would feel his chest tighten from what the watch represented to him, and the loss of everything that he'd been clinging to. And then he'd remember the memory conversation with himself..."perhaps your focus should not be on trying to fix his watch, but on fixing yourself so that you might take the time from a new watch, should you happen upon one..."
And then Albus would puzzle for long hours alone in his hotel room trying to piece it all together...Did the "G.G." on the broken watch stand for "Gellert Grindelwald"or "Greater Good"? A token of love, or a token of ambition? And what did he mean, "take the time from a new watch"? Was he telling himself to get over the past in a roundabout way, or was he hinting at something more?
Then he'd ponder how and when he'd get so insufferably enigmatic, or if he was already like that.
But now he was in his office with partial answers to some of his pondering, but no wand and no glasses. He could do some easy magic without his wand, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't turn lights on or off. He had a letter opener, and he had a lot of quills, and he had some ink, and he had the feeling he was being watched.
"I know you're there," he said softly. He lived up to his Gryffindor title and showed no fear. "If you wanted me dead, you'd have killed me by now. Why don't you come down and we'll talk."
His voice didn't shake at all, but his mind was racing. Who could it be? Who would break into his quarters to get his wand? His first thought was Gellert, but Gellert was in prison. Could he have broken out? If he could have broken out, he might have been able to break into Hogwarts. The thought sickened Albus, but didn't slow down his train of thought.
Could it have been Tom Riddle? Tom Riddle might have been powerful enough, and it was possible that he could have tampered with the alarms when he'd last visited. Albus doubted it. He knew Harry kept an eye on Tom Riddle and knew his activities fairly well. Harry would have warned Albus—unless Harry didn't know about it. Also, Harry couldn't possibly know the significance of the Elder Wand. Maybe he'd known about someone trying to steal it and didn't think it was important enough to mention. Either way, thought Albus remembering some of Harry's words, he knew he was going to live through the night.
"You won't kill me tonight," Albus said, warmth of relief flowing into his tensed limbs.
Something swished behind him and he spun around.
The room was silent for a moment, and Albus realized that dramatic spinning was hardly the way to convey the cool exterior he was striving for. He let out a controlled sigh.
"I would like my wand back before I go back to bed." His voice didn't shake, but he was having trouble keeping his knees still, not that anyone could have seen them in the dark under his voluminous pajamas.
Something swished again, but Albus kept himself from turning. He mentally summoned his wandless magic to him...
A hand came across his mouth, and an arm wrapped around his waist. A body pressed into his back, and a mouth against his ear.
"How's this for talking?" whispered the mouth, brushing Albus's ear with every syllable. "You won't die tonight, Albus Dumbledore, but do you feel safe?"
Just as Albus clicked his fingers to send a nearby vase flying at his captor's head, he felt the sensation of apparition and then landed with his back pressed against what was unmistakably the covers of his bed. No one else had a thread count that high (except maybe Harry). The presence of his captor had moved from his back to his front, and was now pressing him down into the bed. He struggled, but found he was bound in a spread-eagle position by his wrists and ankles.
"Is this really—"
The hand from before came across his mouth again, stopping his speech.
"Don't speak," said the whisperer.
Albus inhaled through his nose, glaring up at the dark—
He froze. That smell...The smell of the hand on his face...the oppressive darkness... the whisper...It triggered his memory...A mysterious dream from months past...the most amazing dream...
His thoughts were interrupted by the unrecognizable but naggingly familiar whisper again.
"I have one last thing to say to you, Albus Dumbledore..."
Albus's breath quickened.
"Hell hath no fury..."
The mouth grew closer.
"...like teachers forced into costume."
The weight was suddenly gone, and the lights clicked on. Albus was nearly blinded because his eyes had almost adjusted to the dark, but he could hear a pair of voices laughing and the distinct smack of a high five.
"Seriously, Albus. Never do that again," said Minerva, once her laughter had subsided.
"My wand- " croaked Albus.
"That was her idea. I would have been perfectly happy just swishing about a bit and maybe leaving some cryptic notes. I like a good cryptic note."
"Just like you. Swishing about. Honestly."
"And what's that supposed to mean? How is swishing about just like me?"
Albus finally cleared his throat loud enough to be audible over Harry and Minerva's argument and they fell silent.
"You know," he said, "a prank works better when you don't argue in front of your...victim."
"I think it worked well enough," said Minerva, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think, Crockett?"
Harry nodded. "Judging by the light shake in his knees, the elevated speed of his breathing, and that bit of pink on his ears, I think he's made up just fine for two bad costumes and swanning off for a month without any letters."
"Ah," said Albus. "I thought my assistance earlier would have sufficed."
Harry and Minerva looked at each other for a moment before looking back at Albus.
"Nah," they said in unison.
"Your wand's back on your bedside table," said Harry. "I was a little surprised you didn't have a spare...But, hey—what was with the vase? Nice work. Who'd you learn that from?"
"You," said Albus.
"What vase?" asked Minerva.
"Oh, just something I taught him," grinned Harry smugly. "Well, I think we've done our jobs. Why don't we let the headmaster get back to sleep. What do you say, Minerva?"
"Jolly good, Crockett."
Albus smiled. "Would one of you be kind enough to untie these, please?"
Harry and Minerva glanced at each other for a moment. "Nah!"
Harry grasped Minerva's hand and the pair of them vanished.