Ch73. Dumbledore's nightmarish awakening

Dumbledore's eyes fluttered. They groggily opened as the man groaned. He managed to gather enough strength to sit and rub his eyes wearily. He didn't know what happened. He was at the Ministry Ball when...

The memories flooded his brain as his eyes widened.

The blasted bird! It burned him!

Wait...

Fire. Fire burns... hair.

His head snapped to the side with the speed of light, right towards a mirror. His eyes widened even more as his mouth was in a silent 'O' when he saw his visage. His heart sank almost to his pants. His marvelous fabulous uber special astoundingly awesome sensational breathtaking, and staggeringly phenomenal beard! It was... simply gone! His hand clasped his chin... only to find his old eyes didn't fool him.

He didn't even care that he was bald! But his stupendous remarkable astonishing ... add adjectives ... beeeaaaard!!!

Tears started pouring down his cheeks like a waterfall as he just frozenly stared into the mirror while his hand was patting his chin in a vain attempt to find his lost beard.

That was the state the nurse found him. Utterly out of it.

"Hello. You already awake? I heard you were quite heavily injured! You are a quite lucky man, Mister! Nobody told you it is very dangerous to play with magical beasts? Especially those of fiery nature? Tsk. Tsk. Tsk."

These words stung Dumbledore's ego to its deepest parts. He almost blanched at the accusations.

Unfortunately for him, the nurse was new and had no idea who he was. She also didn't know why he was there except for a few bits the other nurses fed her. A fire magical beast attack. That was all she knew.

Dumbledore stared in horror at the calm and collected nurse. His bears! She did not recognize him!

This was even worse than he thought! He lost his entire image! Without his facial hair, the common chumps did not recognize the awesomeness that is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! It was a disaster!

His mind realizing the severity of the situation and the need to stay calm but his emotions flaring nevertheless he could not take it and scream.

"FAAAAWKEEEEESSSS!"

His shout resounded through the entire St. Mungo. Unfortunately for Dumbledore, his magic was depleted because of medical procedures and potions he was fed to repair his body.

His outburst was quickly handled by a few Aurors that handed him his ass and tucked him back into the bed.

Even more unfortunate was one beetle bug in the flower pot. Tomorrow's headlines would surely be interesting! With an insane hairless Headmasters and an epic battle between mighty Dumbledore and Aurors!

Rita Skeeter was a happy woman, indeed!

...

Dumbledore huffed. It took him three whole blasted hours to get out of the hospital.

Worse yet, the second he stepped into Diagon Alley, nobody recognized him! No boot-lic-, ahem, support. No 'hello, how are you, oh, mighty Dumbledore!', nor 'The champion of light, we are saved'! While people weren't THAT desperate, Dumbledore was aware that was what their praises meant! He was their Greater Good! Or was it Greater God?

But now? Now nobody even gave a shit about him! Except for a few unruly children... But those don't count! He did not enjoy the shit-flavored Bertie Botts Beans... Stupid pranksters!

What really disappointed him and he used his power of disappointing gaze all around, was that people looked at him in horror. They no longer revered his attire! His incredible silky smooth bombastic colorful starry attire! His style!

The people only stared at him as if he was a common weirdo!

Dumbledore irked and annoyed beyond reason, finally reached common floo to Godric Hollow. His house was for some reason completely cut off.

It took him a bit of walking but he reached... it.

He reached a house that was charred-black. Almost in ruin. Devastated. Falling apart by just existing. Finito. Nada. Zilch.

His eyes were blinking at the sight.

"Did I mistake the address?" Dumbledore mumbled to himself. "This can't be right. Someone is playing tricks on me, right?"

He rang the bell on his neighbor that was almost worshipful of him.

"Hell-" He started as the door opened only for a newspaper to land on his face. Hard.

"Dunno who yer are, sparky but I don't buy any magical weed!" The neighbor sneered at him. Weird.

"You are mistaken." Dumbledore calmly said in a calm, sageous voice. "I am only interested in the house next to-"

"Ah?" The neighbor eyed him suspiciously. "Burned down on New Year's Eve. Tche. Must have been some dark wizard, I tell you! It was like a firework! Fium, fium, bang, fium, boom!" The neighbor shrieked and closed the door with a 'bang'.

Dumbledore could only stare at the door and his gaze brokenly trailed to the house next-, to his house, he realized.

He couldn't even count the amount of how many priceless artifacts and books were in his fortified house. He could, however, imagine what would happen if they came into contact with magical fire.

Fium, fium, bang, fium, boom, indeed...

He dazedly walked towards floo. He needed to get to Hogwarts.

...

Dumbledore walked through Hogwarts and luckily didn't meet any of his colleagues. He approached the gargoyle statue and noted everything was in order. His heart almost jumped as he saw no burns on the entrance! He and his secret stash of Lemon Drops still had a chance to end up together! He needed his Lemon Drops!

He approached the gargoyle and noted the suspicious look it gave him. Alongside with the disgusted look, it gave his clothes.

'Great, even Hogwarts is mocking me...' Dumbledore wanted to cry but soldiered on.

"Lemon Drops." He cheerfully exclaimed and the gargoyle slowly opened, keeping its eyes on him.

He walked inside and... froze.

What was previously his office, his trinkets-filled, book-littered, pensieve-containing, Lemon Drops-providing, fluffy chair-having office was now a black smudge on the floor and the walls. Heck, even the ceiling was all in black!

His mind instantly went to the trinkets monitoring Potter. His mind reeled as it understood the truth. They were gone. Irrevocably gone. He could never ask Potter for blood. He can't even order Poppy to do so as that wouldn't work. He just effectively lost the way to track Potter, his boy!

Dumbledore fell on his knees. His mind swirling from Lemon Drops to magical trinkets, back to Lemon Drops, and then to various Grimoires people would want back, only to come again back to Lemon Drops. Fuck... he lost his stash of LEMON DROPS!

It was then that McGonagall walked in and saw a man kneeling on the floor, looking as if he was on the brink of despair-induced insanity.

"Excuse me, who ar-, ah! Dumbledore, you are back!" She exclaimed surprised.

Dumbledore robotically turned to her with a frozen grimace.

"Minerva..." He sniffed and barely let out of himself the next sentence. "Nice to see you this fine day."

"What happened to you!" McGonagall exclaimed with an utterly bewildered expression. "You look... shaven."

Dumbledore processed what he just heard his student say and... broke down crying, his body curling into a ball on the black floor as his sobs reverberated through the room.

"My lemon drops..."

McGonagall approached him, pity on her face.

"There, there," McGonagall patted his back encouragingly as if she was cheering up a child. "Don't worry. It is very... smooth."

He stopped crying and gave her a deadpan look, snot still covering his face.

"Fuck it, I am going to overdose on magical hair-growth potions..."