Wigtown Wanderers, Beater 2

Prompt: Write about someone persevering towards a goal (Albus Dumbledore)

Additional Prompts: (occupation) teacher/professor; (word) idyllic

Word Count: 1294

Warnings: brief mentions of canon grief, canon poltergeist

Author's Note: The older I get, the more I agree with my grandmother: some of the most worthy goals in life aren't things that you can mark off a list.

Peace for the Moment

Albus took a deep breath and watched as Harry Potter disappeared around the corner on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He felt a small, stinging bit of guilt for lying to the lad, but he had no desire to explain what he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised. The feel of Gellert's arms around him, the sight of Aberforth and Ariana waving happily behind them, had been indescribable. Albus had been filled with a joy and contentment he hadn't felt in many, many years, but it had only taken a moment for the peace of that idyllic scene to disappear like smoke. Albus knew the mirror for what it was, and the reality of it completely doused any happiness he'd felt, leaving in its wake a searing streak of sadness and longing.

Wiping the tears from his cheek, Albus thought for a moment about all that he'd told Harry. Perhaps he would do well to follow his own advice. Those halcyon days were far behind him, but a person could find more than one path to contentment. Finding peace again was a difficult goal but certainly a worthy one, one that Albus immediately decided was worth pursuing. It would look different than it had in his past, and, given the current state of the magical world, he wasn't really sure how he would get there. Right now, though, those wooly socks sounded like a rather lovely start. With a deep sigh, Albus began the long walk back toward his quarters.

He'd made it no more than ten steps down the corridor when Argus Filch limped quickly around the corner. It always surprised Albus that the man could move with such speed, but the promise of catching a student breaking curfew tended to put a spring in his step. Albus made a mental note to have a word about that sentiment in the near future.

"Headmaster!" the man rasped. "There's a student out of bed. I can practically smell it, and Mrs. Norris here thinks so too."

The dust-colored skeleton of a cat, who was currently twining between the caretaker's legs, gave a yowl of agreement. Her bulging, lamp-like eyes seemed to stare right through Albus, and he shuddered at the sensation.

"I quite agree with you, Argus," he replied. "I'm certain there's at least one student out of bed and currently walking back toward their dormitory."

The caretaker's face lit up. "What would you have me do with them, Headmaster? A week of detention? Or can I hang this one up in the chains, like old times?"

Albus shook his head. That conversation about Argus' attitude toward the students would need to happen sooner rather than later. "We've talked about the chains, my friend. And Mister Potter is currently out of bed because his meeting with me ran late. He will require no punishment at this time, but thank you for your vigilance, Mr. Filch."

Argus visibly deflated. "As you say, Headmaster."

Albus watched the old man totter off, Mrs. Norris at his heels. They were most certainly an odd pair, but their relationship brought a small smile to Albus' lips. Undeterred by his somewhat disturbing conversation with the castle's caretaker, he marched once more toward the idyll of his quiet, cozy quarters.

At the top of the second staircase, Albus felt something small and wet smack into the side of his neck. Instinctively, he reached up to touch it, and his hand came away with a glowing…spitwad?

"Student out of bed! Student out of bed!" Peeves called from high above. The portraits nearby grumbled and shook their fists at the poltergeist as the echoes of his cries woke them from their otherwise peaceful dreams.

"Peeves!" Albus bellowed. "Get down here now."

Even from a few stories below, he saw Peeves flinch. As the headmaster, Albus was the only one with the power to really punish the translucent poltergeist. According to the histories, Peeves had "come with the building" as a physical manifestation of students' mischievousness, and as such he couldn't be banished like a ghost. He could, however, still feel a good Stinging Hex or be confined to part of the castle for a few weeks. Albus watched as the poltergeist descended slowly and came to float a few feet in front of him.

"Sorry, Professor Dumbledore. I didn't realize it was you walking through a dark corridor at this time of night," the mischievous spirit mumbled. Peeves was doing his best to look contrite, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Albus held back a sigh and instead decided to use this as a teaching moment.

He lowered his glasses to better look Peeves in the eye. "I think you saw exactly who I was and assumed you could sneak away under the cover of darkness. That was a mistake, and it makes me think that we might need to review our old agreement."

For the first time in Albus' memory, the poltergeist wisely kept his mouth closed.

"We both know that Hogwarts must, to some extent, tolerate your shenanigans, but only when they are neither malicious nor dangerous," Albus continued. "Had your aim been just a bit poorer and were I not wearing my eyeglasses, you could have inflicted serious pain upon the person you were pranking. I enjoy your lighthearted silliness, Peeves—not that I would admit it to anyone else—but you must be more judicious with your pranks. Otherwise you may find yourself well-acquainted with the right-hand side of the third-floor corridor. Do you understand me?"

Peeves winced and gave him a half-hearted salute. "Yes, sir. Keep the monkey business, nix the danger."

"Alright then. Have a good night."

As he walked away, Albus whispered over his shoulder, "But that was very good aim."

The echo of Peeves' shrill giggles lifted his spirits and followed him down the next hallway, all the way to the bottom of his personal staircase.

Albus ascended into his office, took a deep breath, and felt his shoulders relax ever so slightly. Then he glanced over at his desk, and his body tensed again. There was much more paperwork there than he remembered leaving when he went to find Harry. There was also a book-shaped package—likely the last copy of his friend Nicolas Flamel's work, which Albus had requested through Fawkes earlier today. The phoenix, ever attuned to his moods, cried mournfully, clearly upset to have played any part in his friend's stress.

But even the saddest phoenix song held the power to improve a person's mood. Albus shook off the need to address everything lying on his desk and instead walked through the hidden door into his personal chambers. He sank into his favorite wingback chair, and a cup of perfectly prepared tea appeared on the table next to him, courtesy of the Hogwarts elves. Albus jabbed his wand at the fireplace, creating a crackling blaze, and then he summoned his favorite pair of wooly socks.

The socks flew into his outstretched hand, and Albus smiled at the feel of the fabric against his skin. Carefully, he tugged them onto his feet and settled back into the chair. He sipped his tea, took in his idyllic surroundings, and smiled at the contentment that washed over him. If only his former self could see him now, relishing the quietude of a fire, a cup of tea, and some very warm socks. A much younger Albus would be appalled.

The very idea made him stop and wonder. Maybe that peace he'd decided to search for was no longer the sense of love and joy he'd once experienced. Maybe it wasn't even the deep-seated calm his older self had expected. Perhaps true peace was only this—a few minutes away from the world, wrapped in the fleeting feeling of contentment and joy. Perhaps peace was only for a moment.

Albus smiled at the thought. What a lovely moment it was.