Here's a little story. I hope you like it. I got the title from The Lord of The Rings, when Gimli says 'Not the beard!'

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Lord of the Rings for that matter.

Not The Beard!

Or

The Hygiene Standards of Albus Dumbledore's Beard

'Well?' said Minerva Mcgonagall in a murderous voice, 'Will you tell me?'

Dumbledore paused to consider his standing in this...argument. On the one hand, he was strapped to a table, with no possible means of escape, while his colleague and apparent friend stood over him holding a particularly lethal looking pair of scissors. But on the other hand, it was fun when he knew something Minerva didn't.

'Nope!' he almost yelled the word with a joyful abandon.

Minerva growled.

'OK, Dumbles. We can do this the nice way, or we can do it the hard way. Which is it to be?'

'What's the nice way?'

'That's when I yell at you and turn your hair pink until you tell me what I need to know.'

'Right...And the hard way?'

Minerva snapped the scissors menacingly. 'I give your beard a slight trim,' she said in a dangerous voice, a sly grin spreading across her face.

'NOOO!' yelled Dumbledore, 'Not the beard!'

'Then tell me – '

'Never!'

'OK, then, Dumbledore. You just signed your own beard's death warrant,' replied Minerva, and so saying, she snipped about half a centimetre off Dumbledore's precious beard.

Dumbledore howled in anguish. Minerva cackled wildly, and dangled the tiny piece of white fluff before Dumbledore's eyes.

'Will you tell me now?'

Dumbledore sniffed slightly, wondering why he ever employed Minerva. Oh yes. He needed someone to do his paperwork. That damned paperwork...

'No,' he snuffled.

'Right then,' replied Minerva, and bent once more over Dumbledore. This time, she cut off a whole inch. Dumbledore burst into floods of tears.

'Well?'

'N-never!'

'Your cost, Dumbley-dore...'

Two inches.

'Well?'

'I'm not telling!'

Five inches.

'Well?'

'My lips are sealed.'

A whole meter.

'WELL?'

'I won't give in!'

Two whole meters.

'We- Hang on! How long is this beard?'

Dumbledore beamed proudly through his tears. 'I've been growing it a long time, you know. Last time I measured it, it was fifty-nine meters long. Hadn't you noticed?'

'Well...no. You keep it tucked up very well. But hang on...' Minerva tugged at Albus' beard, and fell backwards on to the floor, smothered underneath an avalanche of beard.

'Ifghh thifff aff mush?'

Dumbledore peered down at the pile of silvery hair that hid Minerva, and said politely, 'I didn't quite catch that, Minerva. What did you say?'

'I said,' exclaimed Minerva, finally managing to exhume herself from the pile of beard, 'Is this a mouse?'

Dumbledore smiled benignly, 'Oh, so you've met Twinky. He lives here, you see.'

'Does he now?' asked Minerva, a dangerous glint in her eye. Barely pausing to shudder at the hygiene standards of Dumbledore's beard, she advanced purposefully on him, snapping her scissors threateningly.

'Minerva! You wouldn't...You wouldn't deprive Twinky of a home would you?'

'That's what you think!' with two swift snips, Dumbledore's entire beard fell to the ground, and he was left rubbing his chin ruefully.

'Now, would you like me to move on to your hair, or will you tell me where they are?'

Dumbledore sighed. It was time to admit defeat.

'Fine! Your Mickey Mouse pants are hanging above the fireplace in the Gryffindor common-room.'

***

'What was that?' asked Hermione, looking startled. A high pitched scream had just echoed around the whole castle, reverberating off the walls and only dying out after an entire minute had elapsed.

'Er...maybe it has something to do with those,' said Harry, pointing numbly towards a pair of pants that were hanging over the fireplace. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up, goggle eyed at the words someone had scrawled beneath them. Minerva's favourite panties!

'Is that...Dumbledore's handwriting?' asked Harry incredulously. Mutely, Hermione and Ron nodded.

That's it...Did you like it? Please R&R!

Tabs :D