Things Fall Apart

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.
-W. B. Yeats (The Second Coming)

Things Fall Apart-
Prologue

"Albus Dumbledore," the aging man half whispered, signing the parchment on the desk in front of him with a flourish. Humming to himself, he folded the parchment and stuffed it into a small envelope, taking as much care as one would with a newborn child.

Anyone watching him could, by now, very well see that Albus Dumbledore is not a normal man. It may have been his silvery beard (which was about 6 inches from his belt), the deep blue robes he wore or maybe even all the strange silver instruments and snoring paintings that littered his circular office that gave this away. However, upon deeper inspection, you would find a merry twinkle in this strange man's blue eyes that set him apart from any other man.
"Fawkes!" he cooed softly, summoning a phoenix of brilliant scarlet and gold plumage to his desk. The bird called Fawkes looked up to his master expectantly while Albus lovingly stroked its magnificent head.
"I have a message for you to deliver to Lily and James. They're going to have a baby!" he told the phoenix with joy etched clearly in his face. Fawkes cocked his head to the side, as if to ask a question. "Well, we don't know about that just yet! Of course, the Longbottoms are having a baby soon too, so it could be anyone really. Now, about that letter..." Fawkes spread its wings in acknowledgement and vanished, leaving nothing but a small golden feather.

***

The headmaster looked up from the pile of divination professor applications on his desk to the small clock on his left. Of course, this magical clock was hardly different from others. Its face held the normal things like home, work, and the ever-popular mortal peril, but it was just slightly different, in that whenever a new, unique situation occurred, the clock made a suitable slot. Right now, it read time for lunch you old coot. Albus smiled to himself.
"Well, honestly. I'm not that old," he said with a chuckle.

I guess it is right though. I am quite hungry. Just then, as if right on queue, Fawkes appeared just above his head and dropped a small note in front of him. Written hastily in light purple ink, he read it immediately:

Headmaster, James and I would love to have you over for a late lunch today. Please come if you can make it!
-Lily

"That was well timed!" he said with a smile and setting the note aside. Turning his gaze from the note and onto the edge of his desk, where a mountain of applications teetered dangerously, threatening to collapse at any minute, his stomach grumbled loudly. He made a distinctly annoyed growling sound in the back of his throat.

This will never do!

"Hmm..." he mumbled. After a few moments' consideration, followed by a flick of the wrist, the large pile had divided itself into three small, well-organized stacks. Well, really only two stacks, because the third one was deemed unacceptable for work, and was appropriately transferred into the fire.
Ridding himself of the parchment stacks that had previously littered his space, Albus stepped from behind his desk, and walked toward the fireplace. Pulling a small bag of floo powder out of his pocket, he tossed a pinch into the fire.
"Godric's Ho-" he began, but before he could finish a woman fell out of the air, toppling him to the floor. Albus sat up, surprised, and pulled away from her slightly. Not that he was worried about being atacked, seeing as the wards prevented such things, but rather because he wanted to get a good look at this intruder who was withholding him from a much needed lunch break.
That promptly became a problem though; as she passed out and her dead weight was slumped, face down, over his feet. Taking this opportunity to assess the situation, he propped her against the wall.
She was still fairly young, he observed.

Well, young by my standards anyway. After all, everyone is young when you're over a century old. He thought humorously to himself. However, despite her disheveled state, Albus could tell she was a very prim woman.

Okay, she's obviously a witch; I can see the wand sticking out of her pocket. But what's this? He turned over her delicate hand and found that it was covered in blood and glass shards.

Well, that IS peculiar.

Her dark brown hair, formally in what looked to be a tight bun, was now falling out in little waves and framing her face. He sighed.

This isn't getting me anywhere. He pulled his wand out of his pocket.
"Enerverate." he said softly. She sat up abruptly, and began to examine her hands.
"Oh my god...it worked! I can't believe it worked!" the anonymous young woman exclaimed softly, unaware of her surroundings.
"What worked my dear?" Albus questioned her.

The woman abruptly stopped her examining, and snapped her head up, as if she hadn't noticed someone else was in the room. Upon seeing who it was, her eyes tripled in size and filed to the brim with tears.

"P...p...professor Dumbledore??" she stuttered. Her eyes began to overflow, and she wrapped Albus in a painfully tight embrace.
"Um...yes...that's Me," he replied and patted her back, trying his best to breathe through her rough hug and not sound awkward at the same time, "but who exactly, my dear, are you?"