I don't own anything except Dr. Dunlap and maaaan is he sexy.

A looong joke with a great punchline… don't make me explain it…

Young Albus and Minerva in their early days…

Albus and Minerva were married to begin with. Only a few staff members knew, though. Poppy knew because she had been at the wedding and Nearly-Headless Nick knew because he, in his midnight wanderings had popped through a wall and seen them passionately making out in an empty hallway. Surprised, they hastily explained themselves.

"Thank God," they had said to themselves that evening in bed, "that it wasn't Peeves!"

One morning she had woken up with a terrible headache. She walked to her husband's office. He, being the early riser, had been in his office since five. She, however, being both a cat and a witch, made it a point never to get up before eight, even on a school day.

"Darling!" he greeted her smiling. His smile melted into a look of concern when he saw his wife's grimace, "What's wrong, love?"

"I have a splitting headache,"

"My dear, you should go see Pomfrey," he said.

"I have, yesterday, and the day before that. I've already taken essence of willow,"

"And it hasn't gone away?"

"No, and I'm feeling a bit… nauseous… excuse me!" she said pushing past him towards his bathroom where she dry-heaved into the sink.

"Oh, honey," he said after walking over and stroking her long black hair, "I'm so sorry… oh, is there anything I can do?"

"No," she said leaning against the fixture, "But I think we should go to the Magical Medical Clinic in London."

It was Saturday so a trip to London would be a lovely vacation from the halls of Hogwarts

Now, very few people, in the Muggle world that is, know that there is more than one place that the magical community goes to seek medical attention. For the usual check-up and health issues that need tending to like the reoccurring hexed-on puss-boils and irregular hexed pimple formations or merely the occasional Muggle diseases like bronchitis and strep. The best and biggest of these, at least in the United Kingdom, happens to be in London. It is strategically located beneath the London Hospital. None of the muggle staff knows it's there, only the witch that works at the patient information desk. One simply goes up to the counter and says, "I'm looking for Ranton Wimblebuck. I believe he's in room 55402."

So the witch will answer, "Are you quite sure he's in room 55402?"

To which you must say, "Yes, Ranton Wimblebuck, tell him we got his owl."

To which she will answer, "No need, Mr. Wimblebuck is in our special unit, you may tell him yourself," then in a hushed tone she'll say, "Third door to the left. It's open. Down the stairs, first door on the right."

If indeed it is not the welcoming witch she was supposed to be, she'll stare at you blankly, look through her files and information desk and ask you for the spelling twice. Then when all is lost, she'll remember that there is no room 55402 and tell you to go to another hospital to which, the only thing you can do is turn around and head towards St. Mungo's or any other of such medical centers. Well, when you go through the third door to the left, which will be opened by the witch, down the stairs into the first door on the right, which is usually bewitched into looking like a broom closet for any suspecting Muggle watchman or janitor who by some odd chance finds themselves going through the third door on the left and first door on the right (which is rare, if, indeed, it ever has happened), you will find yourself a magical medical building which has a large range of physicians from medical dentists, who, although there is much room for doubt, are supposedly painless, to physical therapists who aid recovery when unsuspecting wizards get a bone removed rather than mended.

Anyway, the Dumbledores were not suspecting anything too serious so, at yet another patient information desk, asked for their general practitioner Dr. Hyde. After asking a few questions, he stroked his beard for a few moments absentmindedly stirring his coffee with his wand then announced, "I'm sending you to a dear friend of mine, Dr. Dunlap. He's a squib, but a very good obstetrician."

The Dumbledores looked thoroughly confused. Was it necessary? Indeed, he said to them, it was. He answered still lost in thought.

They doubted the magical skills of a squib over a medi-wizard or healer, but Albus never was one to be prejudiced against anyone because of their birth so they went.

Dr. Doonlap, as it was pronounced, was indeed a squib. Born into a long line of purebloods was expected to be an excellent wizard and had even attended Hogwarts for a year. How he got in, he never knew, but the only things he was truly good at were potions and herbology, which didn't really require any magic at all. Because he failed out of Hogwarts, the first Dunlap to fail in 537 years, he had to find some other way to please his parents so he worked extremely hard in school, got extremely good grades and went to medical school, because what mother wouldn't want a doctor as a son? He then went and got another diploma at the Gilstern School of Magical Medicine, the first squib to ever graduate from the school. Because of his field, he didn't need much magic to make it. He was able to make simple potions and medications and if he couldn't, then he'd send his patient to an apothecary wizard a few doors down. He was exceptionally good at what he did because he had to learn how to do his job without the conveniences of magic. He was well known as an excellent doctor in both worlds (for he had two offices).

The young Dumbledore couple walked into his office a bit apprehensive on over going to a squib and why an obstetrician? The medi-witch at the counter was quite nice though and gave them the customary insurance papers to fill out as well as an additional form to sign declaring that they would not sue on the grounds that the doctor was a squib. They signed all forms and had a seat. Minerva, who was as nervous as ever began digging her nails into the seat rhythmically, a habit she had picked up from her animagus form. They soon saw the doctor who gave her a full exam.

"Yes," he said after taking a few tests, "can you come back next week?"

The Dumbledores looked at each other and looked at him, sighed and told him that they would. Sure enough, the following week they found themselves down the third door on the left, a flight of stairs, into the first door on the right and down the hall to the door that said, "Dr. Jonathan Dunlap, M.D., Obstetrician. They were shown into the examining room. They sat nervously holding hands, Minerva on the examining table. The doctor came into the room looking at Minerva's chart and scratching the side of his chin. He looked up, but wasn't really smiling. He looked slightly pained.

"Is there something wrong doctor?" Albus asked.

"Well, it all depends on how you look at it," he said looking up, "you're an animagus correct?" he continued.

"Yes," answered Minerva.

"And your animagus is a… cat?"

"Yes, but…" she trailed off looking at Albus in confusion.

"Hmm," he said deep in thought, "Well, that explains it… see, you're pregnant…

With quintuplets."