I'm Albus Fucking Dumbledore - Chapter 24

Chapter 24

1st of September 1991

The Burrow

Ginny Weasley was sulking. It was just not fair—everybody went to Hogwarts but her! Even Ron! She sat in the Burrow’s kitchen, arms crossed and a scowl on her freckled face, feeling utterly abandoned. The house felt eerily quiet without the usual chaos of her siblings. She wanted to be there, in the thick of it, not stuck at home like a little kid.

Her mother had gone to the garden to welcome Bill. Apparently, he had something important to discuss this morning and had to be at the Burrow. Left to her own devices, Ginny decided to get herself a glass of milk. She opened the fridge, grabbed the jug, and poured some into a chipped cup, still fuming about being left behind.

As she sipped her milk, she noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye. “Huh?” she muttered, looking up. Why was there a stranger in the kitchen?

Standing by the sink was a man who looked to be about fifty, with a shock of silver hair and twinkling blue eyes. But his clothes—oh, his clothes! He wore a lime-green suit with polka dots, a neon pink tie that seemed to glow, and mismatched shoes—one bright yellow, the other electric blue. Over this ensemble, he had draped a tattered, oversized cape adorned with patches of various magical creatures, which flapped dramatically with every slight movement. He looked like he had raided a clown’s wardrobe after a particularly wild party.

“Hello there!” the man said cheerfully, offering her a handful of brightly colored candies from his pocket. “Would you like some sweets?”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Mum told me never to accept candies from strangers,” she said defiantly.

Before the man could react, Ginny’s foot shot out, delivering a swift and decisive kick to his groin. He doubled over, dropping the candies as he fell to the floor, clutching his midsection and wheezing in pain.

“No means no, mister!” Ginny declared, standing over him with her hands on her hips, a fierce expression on her face.

Just then, Molly and Bill entered the kitchen. Molly’s face turned white with horror as she saw the man writhing on the floor. “Professor Dumbledore! Oh my goodness, Professor Dumbledore!”

She rushed to his side, whimpering in distress, while Bill stared at Ginny, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

“Ginny,” Bill said slowly, his voice filled with disbelief, “did you... did you just kick Albus Dumbledore in the nuts?”

Ginny’s fierce expression faltered. “Who?” she asked, her eyes widening as she looked from Bill to her mother to the stranger. "That hobo ?"

— — — — — —

1st of September 1991

The Burrow

Ginny was sent to her room as punishment, her mother's stern words still ringing in her ears. Sitting on her bed, she fumed at the injustice of it all. After a few moments, curiosity got the better of her. She slipped off her bed and tiptoed to the door, quietly opening it and sneaking down the stairs. She crouched on the bottom step, just out of sight, and listened intently to the conversation in the kitchen.

Bill, Molly, and Arthur were huddled around the kitchen table, their faces serious. The stranger in the horrendous clothes had left, much to Ginny's relief and regret. She could only catch bits and pieces of the conversation, but she strained her ears, trying to make sense of it.

"...a great opportunity," Bill was saying, his voice excited yet cautious. "It could change our future."

Molly nodded, her expression earnest. "We could really make a difference, Arthur. Imagine the impact we could have. The children could have a brighter future, more opportunities than we ever did."

Arthur looked troubled, his fingers drumming on the table. "But it would mean leaving my job at the Ministry. I don't know if I can do that. It's stable, and we've built our lives around it. What if this doesn't work out?"

Bill leaned forward, his eyes shining with determination. "Dad, I've already decided to accept. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Dumbledore believes in us. He thinks we can make a real difference."

Molly reached over and placed a hand on Arthur's arm. "Arthur, I know it's a big risk, but we can't keep living in fear of what-ifs. The children deserve a future filled with possibilities. We deserve to pursue our potential. If Bill is willing to take this step, we should support him."

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. "I just worry about the security. What if it falls through? What if we end up regretting it?"

Molly's grip on his arm tightened. "We won't. Dumbledore wouldn't offer us this chance if he didn't believe we could succeed. We have to trust him and trust ourselves."

There was a long pause, and Ginny held her breath, waiting for her father's response. Finally, Arthur nodded, a small, resigned smile on his face. "Alright. We'll do it. Let's take the chance."

Ginny's heart swelled with pride and excitement. She didn't understand all the details, but she knew something big was happening. She silently crept back up the stairs, her mind buzzing with possibilities.

As she lay back down on her bed, she heard the sound of chairs scraping against the kitchen floor and footsteps coming up the stairs. A moment later, her bedroom door creaked open, and her mother entered.

Molly sat down on the edge of Ginny's bed, her expression softer now. "Ginny," she said gently, "there's something we need to talk about. There's a possibility that you may go to Hogwarts this year."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock and excitement. "What? Really?"

Molly nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "Yes, my dear. It's not certain yet, but it's a possibility. We'll know more soon. Just keep your fingers crossed."

Ginny's heart raced with excitement and hope. Pray to the Hobo !

— — — —

1st of September 1991

Azkaban

Sirius Black was cold. The relentless chill of Azkaban seeped into his bones, a biting reminder of the desolation that surrounded him. The stone walls of his cell were damp, offering no respite from the icy drafts that whispered through the cracks. He shivered uncontrollably, his body aching from the cold that seemed to seep into his very soul. The Dementors were always near, their presence a constant drain on his spirit, sucking away any trace of warmth or happiness, leaving behind a numbing, soul-crushing despair. He found some solace in his Animagus form, transforming into the large black dog that he was, hoping to conserve a bit of warmth. But even that was fleeting, as the cold penetrated his fur and reached the human heart within.

He switched back and forth between his dog and human forms, seeking comfort in either. As a dog, he could better ignore the worst effects of the Dementors, but the physical cold still gnawed at him. As a human, his thoughts were clearer, but filled with the torment of his past, the injustices he had suffered, and a burning desire for vengeance. The smell of the sea mixed with the stench of the prison, the salty tang a constant reminder of the isolation of Azkaban.

Sirius often muttered to himself, his voice a raspy whisper in the darkness. "Vengeance," he growled, a manic gleam in his eyes. "They will all pay. Wormtail, Snape, even the Ministry. I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done." His mind raced with plans and fantasies of escape and retribution, the thin line between sanity and madness blurring more each day.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps echoing through the corridor outside his cell. Instinctively, he transformed back into a human, straining to hear better. Footsteps? That was rare. Usually, the guards levitated the food trays to the cells, minimizing contact with the prisoners.

Sirius moved to the bars of his cell, peering into the dimly lit corridor. "Great," he muttered to himself, "I’ve finally lost it. Hearing things now." He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his vision, but the footsteps grew louder, more distinct.

What he saw made him question his sanity even more. Approaching his cell was a younger, fit version of Albus Dumbledore, his silver hair cropped short and a thick, badass beard framing his face. But it was his attire that made Sirius gape in disbelief. Dumbledore wore an ensemble that could only be described as the aftermath of a magical wardrobe explosion. His robe was a garish lime green with oversized pink polka dots, paired with a neon orange feather boa that looked like it belonged to a flamboyant peacock. His shoes were a shocking mismatch—one bright red boot and the other a glittering purple slipper with bells that jingled with every step. To top it all off, he had a Kalashnikov slung casually over one shoulder.

Draped over Dumbledore’s other shoulder was Bellatrix Lestrange, unconscious and filthy. Her wild hair was matted with dirt, and her once proud face was now a mask of grime and neglect. Even in her state, she exuded a dangerous aura, like a predator momentarily subdued but ready to strike at any moment.

Sirius blinked, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. "This can't be real," he muttered to himself. "I'm hallucinating. It’s the Dementors, they’re making me see things."

Dumbledore stopped in front of Sirius’s cell, giving him a lopsided grin. “Sirius, my dear boy,” he said cheerfully, as if they were meeting for tea rather than in a hellish prison. "Lovely to see you! Been ages, hasn't it? You look positively dreadful!"

Sirius blinked, staring at Dumbledore, his mouth agape. "Headmaster Dumbledore? What... what are you doing here? And why do you look like you got dressed in the dark? And what’s with the gun?"

“Oh, this old thing?” Dumbledore twirled the Kalashnikov as if it were a baton, the absurdity of the motion making Sirius’s head spin. “Just a little something I picked up from my travels. One must always be prepared for the unexpected, after all! As for my attire, I like to think of it as avant-garde. Keeps the Dementors on their toes, don't you think?”

Sirius shook his head vigorously, trying to clear the apparent hallucination. “This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. No one in their right mind would wear that... and Bellatrix? What is happening?”

Dumbledore's grin widened, his expression both amused and reassuring. “Oh, it’s real, Sirius. And it’s about to get even better".

Sirius leaned against the bars, trying to steady his racing thoughts. "If this is a hallucination, it's the most vivid one I've ever had. But if it’s real..."

Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts with a wink. “Trust me, Sirius. This is as real as my fabulously terrible fashion sense. Now, let’s get moving before the Dementors catch wind of our little escapade.”

With that, Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the cell door swung open with a creak. He practically skipped inside, his mismatched shoes making a jingling, clomping noise on the stone floor. Bellatrix, still slung over his shoulder, stirred slightly but remained unconscious.

Sirius stared in disbelief as Dumbledore entered the cell and set Bellatrix down gently. "Headmaster Dumbledore, have you gone completely mad? What on earth is going on?"

The old wizard chuckled, adjusting his hat. “Oh, Sirius, my mind is as sharp as ever. Now, let's get down to business. We need to get you out of here, and quickly. But first, a little show and tell.”

He pulled out a small pocket watch, and as he opened it, Sirius caught a glimpse of something... unusual. The watch's face wasn't showing time; instead, it displayed a rather explicit animated scene. Sirius's eyes widened in shock.

"Er, Headmaster, why is there... that... in your pocket watch?"

He laughed heartily. “Oh, this? Just a bit of fun to keep the spirits up. Sometimes, you need a distraction from all the doom and gloom. Now, back to our escape plan.”

Suddenly, Bellatrix stirred, mumbling incoherently. Without missing a beat, Dumbledore threw her into the air, performed a series of quick, precise Kung Fu moves, and knocked her out cold again before she even hit the ground. Sirius watched in stunned silence.

“Right, where was I? Ah yes, the escape plan,” Dumbledore said, straightening his absurd outfit. “We’ll need to replace you with a permanently transfigured homunculus. Just like my others future NFL batteries... I mean, the other prisoners. Can’t have anyone noticing you’ve escaped, now can we?”

Sirius's jaw dropped further. “A homunculus? NFL batteries? What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

The venerable Head of the Wizengamot waved a hand dismissively. “Details, details. Just a bit of clever magic to keep things running smoothly here while we’re off on our grand adventure. Think of it as…hell, why am I explaining it to you ?”

Sirius was convinced he had finally lost his grip on reality. He followed Dumbledore, half-expecting to wake up back in his cell at any moment. But as they turned a corner, the absurdity only increased. Dumbledore led them to a side passage that Sirius had never noticed before, its entrance hidden behind an enchanted tapestry depicting a rather one-sided chess game. As they moved deeper into the passage, Dumbledore suddenly stopped and turned to Sirius, his expression turning deadly serious.

"Sirius, I need to be serious with you for a moment," Dumbledore said, not missing the chance for a pun. "I can take you out of here and give you the vengeance you crave. Wormtail will pay for what he has done. But in exchange, I need your total loyalty. No questions, no hesitations, no singing under the shower. Can you give me that?"

Sirius stared at Dumbledore, the gravity of his words sinking in. This was the moment of truth. "Total loyalty? Boss, you have no idea how much I want to see them pay. I’ll do whatever it takes."

“Perfect,” said Dumbledore with a satisfied nod. “We’ll head to my house. There, a house-elf will take care of you for a month to heal you back to your old self. Bellatrix, on the other hand, will be placed in a nice, secure cage. But I must warn you, I won’t be able to stay with you. The Welcoming Feast at Hogwarts starts in thirty minutes!”

Sirius blinked. “The Welcoming Feast? You’re rescuing me from Azkaban and then heading straight to the Hogwarts feast?”

Dumbledore grinned, adjusting his absurd hat. “Timing is everything, my dear boy. Now, let’s not dawdle.”

With a flourish, Dumbledore flicked his wand, and suddenly, the room filled with a warm, bright light. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s magnificent phoenix, appeared in a burst of flame, his scarlet and gold feathers glowing brilliantly.

“Fawkes will take us where we need to go,” Dumbledore explained. “Hold on tight.”

Sirius, still half-expecting to wake up from this surreal experience, hesitantly reached out and touched the phoenix’s tail feathers. In a flash, the cell disappeared, replaced by a sensation of being enveloped in warm fire. The next moment, they were standing in a warm, well-lit room that smelled faintly of lavender and old books—a stark contrast to the cold, damp cell they had just left.

A small, strangely purple house-elf appeared with a pop, bowing deeply. “Master Dumbledore, how can Tinky Winky be of service?”