Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and sighed. He was bored. Really, exceedingly bored. After being a headmaster for as long as he was, all the required paperwork was finished quickly and without really thinking about it. All of his current joy consisted of planning a speech he was to deliver at the beginning of the new year and the headmaster was well aware that the speech should be as short as possible - otherwise most of the students would eventually doze off. He may have been old but he still remembered what a torture it was when he was a student himself. So he planned the speech that all the first year students would hopefully remember.

And this was a special year indeed. This was the year when Harry Potter was to begin his study of the magical arts. The year he was to learn the truth about himself. All the years following the deaths of James and Lily Potter and placing their little son at Lily's sister home, Harry was carefully observed by Dumbledore or people he trusted enough to do so in his stead. Despite all the strange things (normal things to all magical children, not that the boy knew that) happening around him, Harry has never learned about his heritage. His uncle and aunt never let any thought of that kind so much as enter his mind. Albus Dumbledore wouldn't exactly say he regretted sending the child to this particular home, but throughout the years he started questioning himself if it was really the best option. But what's done is done and he never took the boy away from his family.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at his door. Dumbledore straightened in his chair and called the unexpected guest to enter his office. The door opened to reveal a very exasperated looking Minerva McGonagall.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall, what brings you here?" Asked Dumbledore. The transfiguration master came to a halt in front of his desk and sighed in clear annoyance.

"Muggles," said McGonagall. "They are still withholding all the letters and won't let Harry read any of them. I fear that even doubling the owls we are sending won't solve the problem. Maybe it's time to send Hagrid?"

"Oh, no. No, I don't think now is the right time, my dear Professor," countered Dumbledore. McGonagall raised her brow and the headmaster quickly added, "Hagrid is quite hard not to notice, don't you think? He would make quite a sight on Privet Drive. People would talk, and we don't want it. Besides, I'm to receive an answer from Nicholas concerning his Philosopher's Stone. Then, most likely, I will send Hagrid to retrieve the stone. We can combine it with delivering the letter to Harry."

"Are you sure, that the stone will be safe with Hagrid?" Asked McGonagall with a slight hint of doubt in her voice.

"I am sure, yes," said Dumbledore with conviction. "You know I trust him with my life, Minerva. Nothing has changed."

The transfiguration master sighed.

"If you say so. But what until then? Owls are not enough. And you said that Hagrid has a noticeable posture. I agree, but in that case how do you want to retrieve Harry?"

"Oh, that will be quite simple, I think," Dumbledore said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "First we have to find another way to deliver the letters. If the owl post is not enough, then we shall think of something else. We will show Dursleys that we are determined and it will probably smoke them out of their house for the time being. That shall be a great opportunity to send Hagrid with a letter."

During his speech McGonagall's brows gradually rose.

"And what other means of delivering the letters are you thinking about?"

"Quite a few, actually. For example we can roll up the letters and place them inside the eggs that Dursleys buy for breakfast or just throw several under the door."

Minerva looked at her old friend to deduce whether he has really gone mad this time.

"They boarded up the cracks around the doors in their house," she informed the headmaster. He shrugged, a joyful sparkles dancing in his eyes behind the half-moon glasses.

"But they do have windows, I suppose?" McGonagall nodded. "So the problem is solved!" Exclaimed Dumbledore cheerfully. The professor stared at him incredulously, then shook her head resignedly. The headmaster giggled.

"And how exactly do you plan to 'smoke them out' as you put it?" Asked McGonagall, giving up entirely on the argument. Dumbledore thought for a moment, toying with the end of his silver beard.

"Maybe we should slowly increase the amount of letters until the point of drowning the house in them? What do you think?"

"Do you realise how much paper we will waste on it?"

Dumbledore smiled brightly. "Will, my dear Professor? Have you just agreed to my scheme?"

McGonagall fixed him with a stern look. "And do I have any choice?"

Albus Dumbledore just chuckled.

"Out! OUT!" Could be heard from inside the house at 4 Privet Drive. Dumbledore, who ordered about a thousand letters to be thrown through the chimney just a minute ago, laughed delightfully. Professor McGonagall just clucked her tongue disapprovingly. Dumbledore glanced at her and smiled. They stood on the same street they have been standing over ten years prior, the night after Voldemort's disappearance, waiting for Hagrid to bring little Harry to them. The headmaster planned to chase the Dursleys away from their house today and Minerva McGonagall followed him. She claimed that she had to control all this madness but he had a feeling she also wanted to watch the show, even if she would never admit that. He leaned down to her and said quietly, "I believe it to be enough, don't you think?"

They both listened to the incoherent yelling from inside the house, accompanied by several loud crashes. Then the door swung open and the family fell out of the house. A thin blond woman holding a suitcase and a large sports bag led a sulking fat boy. The beefy man, presumably Mr Dursley, held a bag in his one hand and with the other he was dragging a small and thin boy with a mop of black hair. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall recognized the boy instantly. Harry Potter. He looked just like his father, when he first arrived at Hogwarts all those years ago. McGonagall sniffed and Dumbledore casted a quick glance in her direction.

"Just like James, is he not?" The transfiguration master just nodded. Together they watched little Harry being pushed inside the car alongside the rest of the family and then the car drove away at a high speed. Dumbledore chuckled.

"They seem very eager to get away from the house," he noticed.

"Not all of them," countered McGonagall. "What now, Albus?"

"Well, it's Harry's birthday in two days," he said, watching the car disappear, then turned away and started walking down the street. "I think it will be a perfect time for Harry to finally receive his letter. We will send Hagrid at night and in the morning he can take the boy for shopping on Diagon Alley."

"So, it's the end of letters?" Asked McGonagall as she followed Dumbledore. He just smiled mischievously.

"Oh, no. There is still one day. We can send a few more letters tomorrow morning."

"You mean a few hundreds more?" The headmaster laughed heartily and even the transfiguration professor allowed herself a small smile.

"I think one hundred will be suitable," he said winking at his companion. Both a witch and a wizard turned into the less used alley and disappeared into the thin air.

A/N: I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story. I was inspired by someone's comment that "you can't convince me that Dumbledore wasn't sitting there and giggling while coming up with all this ways to send Harry a letter". English is not my mother language, so I apologize for any errors :)