The doctor is in! Albus Dumbledore, therapist at large!

[lemondrop-party.livejournal.com]

(( this post is for entertainment purposes only. Albus is not a real therapist. Admittedly inspired by nonsensical sidechat.))

Albus Dumbledore felt he should be doing more on behalf of the children and adults of New Hogwarts. (That was how he sometimes thought of the school, in the Hat-ruled state it had either enjoyed or suffered for some time — oh, it had been years, true; but he had been at Old Hogwarts, proper Hogwarts, for decades longer than the current order had endured, with its Furby and its Kojiro. The change would always feel new to him.)

Perhaps these older students did not need his guidance, or his magical tutelage. Perhaps all he could offer was a cup of tea, a listening ear or a shoulder berobed in absorbent purple WizardGard (the better to wick away tears from the face of a sobbing friend). But offer it he should, and must!

So little fliers were sent out.

Are you oppressed by gloom or doubt?
Do you feel alone in this world?
Would you like a lemondrop or a digestive biscuit?

Know that you are welcome to visit
the office of Professor Emeritus Dumbledore.

Comments

[blood-and-souls.livejournal.com]

A fluttering of wings caused the doomed albino to glance upward, where an owl was quickly whirling off towards the castle. The paper it dropped was caught in autumnal draft, and looked as if it too would drift away before abruptly changing direction to smack Elric in the face. The word "gloom" briefly encompassed the majority of his vision, before he pulled it away and examined the flyer from a more reasonable distance.

It was not much later that Elric found himself outside the office mentioned in the flyer, wondering what a 'Professor Emeritus Dumbledore" would prove to be. The title sounded somewhat respectable, and, the flier certainly seemed to speaking to him- who was ever more oppressed by gloom or doubt than the doomed albino? Who could be more alone in this world? Sure, he had something of an actual friend in Smaug the dragon, and lately considered himself in the 'employ' of Ariane Emory II, who was really very pleasant. The irritated whining of the Black Sword in its scabbard reminded him that he was never without companionship- but, he was Elric, the Emperor of Ruins. Feeling gloomy, doubtful, doomed, and alone was his specialty, and technicalities weren't about to to change this. He knocked on the door of the office, wondering what a lemondrop was, and, if digestive biscuits were especially dangerous- he kept picturing miniaturized versions of the Noose of Flesh.

[lemondrop-party.livejournal.com]

In a trice, old Dumbles had settled his guest most hospitably. Surely even the most melancholy warrior could not fail to take some comfort in an armchair so softly overstuffed that magic was surely required to maintain its tufted upholstery intact? Lemondrops nestled in a Spode dish ready to hand, and a little plate of the promised digestive biscuits sat perched on the chair's wide arm. Plain and chocolate bikkies!

Of the sounds emanating from a sheathed weapon the albino had brought in, Dumbledore affected not to take notice. Likewise he made no comment on the Sparklypoo tiara, which would be cause for gloom in itself. "Prefect Elric! A man of many responsibilities."

[blood-and-souls.livejournal.com]

As Elric had been half-anticipating an assault by some nearly indescribably horror of Chaos, Dumbledore's appearance was something of a relief. The Professor Emeritus at least appeared to be human enough on a glance, and there was nothing obviously wrong with the armchair offered him- Elric sunk into the cushion with a somewhat disconcerted expression. It was extremely comfortable. Surely, one such as himself did not deserve pleasantries like overstuffed armchairs and chocolate biscuits?

A lack of deserving had never kept Elric from much of anything, however, and he examined the tasty-looking biscuits with some curiosity and no small amount of actual hunger. Elric wasn't starving in the Forbidden Forest, but, any change from campfire or dragon-roasted meat (often of mysterious origin, where Smaug-leftovers were involved) was welcome, so he took one of the chocolate biscuits, merely glancing over it at first. "Many responsibilities, and no obvious way to fulfill them." Elric sighed, appreciating that Dumbledore seemed to recognize who he was, and the burden he carried. "I found a note which rather spoke to me. So I came here. You are Professor Emeritus Dumbledore? And this is a 'digestive biscuit'? It is rather more innocuous than I had envisioned."

[republikatt.livejournal.com]

Bucky stomped into the office and climbed up into a chair without so much as an introduction, settling himself in and leaning back expectantly, his oversized Slytherin tie wrapped several times around his neck and dirty around the ends from dragging on the floor.

"Tuna," he said.