Albus Dumbledore sighed from behind his desk. Or perhaps more accurately, from behind the mounds of parchment on top of his desk that he had yet to sort through. At the moment he was expecting a visit from his deputy headmistress, one of the few individuals who ever actually saw the sheer volume of letters he had to deal with on a daily basis. Just as he finished putting the last touches on a response to a missive from the minister (no, restrictions on underage magic did not need to be tightened, it was hard enough keeping the children learning during the school year without the loss of the summer months), the gargoyle on his desk turned towards him and clearly intoned “Minerva McGonagall, one try, slightly harried.” Albus leaned back, mentally counting off the time needed for her to get to the top of the stairs.

	“Come in, Minerva.” The door to the office swung open to admit a severe looking older woman who had on deep green robes and a pointed witch’s hat of the same color. She spared a glance towards the phoenix on her perch, and turned back towards Albus. “Lemon drop?”

	She eyed the proffered sweet as though it had personally wronged her. “No.” She moved towards his desk, eyes sweeping over the stacks of letters and scattered parchments. “Albus. I don’t suppose I could convince you to give up one of your positions or your atrocious robes?” She said as she took a seat across from him, studying his bright blue robes with animated nifflers searching up gold on it with some measure of distaste.

	“No, and I think they go together rather well. If I ever get buried under parchment, all you need to do is look for the bright colors and you’ll have me out in no time.” He chuckled. “Though if you didn’t look all that hard, I might not complain.”

	She frowned and smoothed out her robes before responding. “I’ll just set fire to the pile and hope to get your robes as well.” That got a deeper laugh from the man, and seemed to push back some of the age lines on him for a moment. Just as fast, though, they were back as he started to speak again.

	“Well, I’ll make sure my robes are all spelled fireproof then. But I didn’t exactly ask for you to discuss my wardrobe, Minerva.” There was a pause, as he considered how to continue. “I was visited by Arabella again last night and she brought up an interesting point.” A raised eyebrow from Minerva was her reaction. “With how things have seemed at Harry’s residence, it would appear as though he might be better suited to the standard muggleborn visit rather than just having The Book send out his letter.”