Harry was sitting cross-legged on a cushion in the middle of McGonagall’s office, a doll’s tea-set on the floor in front of him, and Hedwig perched on another cushion beside him. When Snape burst through the office door, Harry had never felt so relieved in his life.

“Professor, thank Merlin!” he said. Snape stumbled to a halt and stared at Harry. Then his mouth twitched. Harry scowled at him. “It’s not my fault!” he said vehemently. “Professor Dumbledore thought it’d be a good idea to ‘have a tea party’, so he stuck me here!”

“You can’t get up at all, or are you just stuck to the cushion?” Snape asked, not quite managing to hide the tremor in his voice.

Harry’s scowl intensified. “Professor, if I was just stuck to the cushion, I wouldn’t still be sitting on the floor,” he pointed out.

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll just have to stay there, Potter, until I can get this medicine into Professor Dumbledore,” Snape said. Harry thought that if he held in his laughter for much longer – and really, how strange was that idea? Snape . . . laughing – he’d end up seriously hurting himself. “At least this way I know where you are. I’ll be back shortly!”

“No . . . no, no, Professor!” Harry made a wild grab at Snape’s robes, but only ended up stretched painfully sideways on the floor, arms stretching towards the door as Snape disappeared through it.

Two minutes later, as Harry levered himself upright and crossed his arms in a pout, hysterical laughter floated in from the corridor.

Once he’d managed to pull himself together, Severus headed towards the kitchens. Hopefully Albus would have left something that he could disguise the medicine in. He hadn’t made it any further than the next floor down, however, when he spotted a very strange sight through one of the castle windows.

A group of what looked like first years were all in the middle of the grounds, just in front of the Lake. They were all jumping up and down, waving their arms madly over their heads. Either they had all been struck by the urge to do jumping jacks, Severus mused, or Albus had struck again and they were signalling for help. He hurried outside to them.

“Oh, Professor, Professor, we’re so glad you’re here!” they all shouted as soon as they saw him. Except perhaps shout wasn’t quite the right word, since it seemed a very . . . harmonious shout. “Professor Dumbledore’s gone right round the bend!”

Severus held up a hand. “One at a time,” he instructed. “Without the singing, if you can manage it.”

“No, Professor, sorry, Professor, it was Professor Dumbledore’s idea,” trilled three girls in perfect unison. Severus felt a muscle beside his left eye twitch, but gestured for them to continue. “He thought it would be a perfect day, a lovely day for a picnic.”

“Then he said he’d like a choir, and next thing we know, we can’t stop singing,” added two boys.

Severus rolled his eyes heavenwards. “Oh, Merlin, why me?” he groaned. Then he looked back at the impromptu choir. “How did you get out here? No, never mind,” he added quickly as no less than seven of the group opened their mouths at once, “let’s just stick to a nod or shake of the head. Did Professor Dumbledore bring you out here?” A simultaneous nod from them all. “Are you able to leave this place?” A shake of their heads this time. Severus rubbed his temples and sighed. “Very well. I’m afraid you’ll have to remain here for the time being, whilst I try and locate the Headmaster.” And throttle him with his own beard, Severus added to himself. He spun on his heel and strode back towards the castle. All Slytherins, too. Oh, the shame of it!

Once he’d reached the kitchens, it took quite some doing, but Severus finally found one measly little cupcake that had been neglected at the back of an oven. Severus didn’t know how Albus had managed to overlook it when he’d cleared out all of the ovens in the kitchen, but he wasn’t about to challenge a gift Hippogriff.

Covering the cupcake with the medicine, he then conjured a bowl of melted chocolate to dip the whole thing in. Hopefully Albus wouldn’t quibble about taking the thing from him, and wouldn’t realise it was spiked until it was too late. With the treated cupcake securely wrapped and placed in a pocket, Severus took one step out of the kitchens, and realised he had a serious problem.

How was he supposed to find Albus in the first place?

The castle was too large, and Albus’ five-year-old mind no doubt thought hide and seek would be a wonderful game to play. He needed a way of tracking the old fool. Drawing his wand from his sleeve, Severus laid it flat on his palm. “Point me, Albus Dumbledore!” he said firmly.

For several seconds, the wand did absolutely nothing. Severus was just about to try again when it suddenly quivered, and then spun round with so much force that it actually cart-wheeled itself off his hand, and only a quick “Accio wand!” prevented him from losing it down a corridor.

Obviously that wasn’t going to work.

Severus tapped his chin with an index finger. If the Point Me spell didn’t work, then it stood to reason that no spells would work on Albus. He couldn’t contact Fawkes, because the bird was in no state to answer him, let alone help.

Severus suddenly remembered Potter’s map. The Death Eater disguised as Alastor Moody had gotten his hands on it in Potter’s fourth year, and had waved it around the staff room. As far as Severus knew, Potter had never gotten the map back. Of course, that didn’t mean that Potter hadn’t gotten the map back . . .

Nodding decisively, Severus strode off towards Minerva’s office.

Harry was not having a good time.

“It’s about time, Professor!” he huffed when Professor Snape finally came back through Professor McGonagall’s office door. Snape stopped dead, and looked at the supposedly empty room. Harry sighed. “Up here, Professor.” Snape’s eyes tracked upwards, and then his mouth fell open.

Harry was currently floating with his back a bare half an inch away from the ceiling. He folded his arms and gave a sarcastic wave of his fingers at Snape.

“What on Merlin’s green earth . . . ?” Snape spluttered.

“Professor Dumbledore came back,” Harry said casually. “He decided it would be fun to pretend to be balloons.”

Snape’s mouth opened and closed for a minute, but no sound escaped him.

“Did you manage to get the medicine into the Headmaster?” Harry asked. His voice turned plaintive. “Because I’d really like to get down now.”

“Ah, no, I didn’t,” Snape managed to respond, finally, his brows drawing together. “That was why I came back. Do you still have your map?”

“What map?” Harry peered down at him warily. “I don’t have any map.”

“Don’t be such a foolish Gryffindor, Potter! You know very well what map I mean!” Snape snapped at him. “Unless I have a way of discovering where the Headmaster currently is, it may take me more hours to find him than you’d care to spend up there.”

Harry’s mind raced. Did he dare give the Marauder’s Map to Snape, of all people? Would he ever get it back if he did? No, was the likely answer to that, but if he didn’t hand it over, then he could be stuck up here for quite some time. With a space the size of Hogwarts, even without a mischievous Headmaster who wanted to play games, trying to find someone could take hours, or even days if he was spectacularly unlucky – which, let’s face it, he always was.

“Fine,” Harry sighed, and his head drooped in resignation. “The map is in Professor Flitwick’s classroom. He was trying to see if he could duplicate it, or make a map that worked the same way but showed a different place.”

“Good. While I go and find Professor Dumbledore, you stay right there,” Snape said, and hurried out of the office.

“Oh, yes, because I can really go anywhere else!” Harry retorted sarcastically, but the empty room didn’t answer.

A simple accio charm brought the map floating through the air towards Severus. Thankfully, Filius had been working on it, so it was activated, otherwise Severus would have had to return to Minerva’s office to ask Potter.

The very fact that Albus had locked most people in their various rooms actually worked in his favour this time, as did the early hour, since it meant that almost everyone was congregated into four places. There were the few odd ones, like Potter and himself, not to mention the poor Slytherin first years stuck outside on the grounds, but apart from that, Severus thought that if he saw a solitary dot – especially a moving solitary dot – then there was a greater likelihood that it was Albus.

Sure enough, there was one lonely dot apparently skipping around several corridors on the fourth floor. What in Merlin’s name Albus was doing there was not something Severus wanted to contemplate. Folding the map and storing it in another pocket of his robe, Severus strode towards the Grand Staircase.

When he finally rounded the corner onto the fourth floor, Severus stopped dead. Albus had conjured a pencil and was currently scribbling – Severus really couldn’t call it drawing – on the walls. On the stone walls, no less. In multi-coloured ink. Pixies and fwooper birds of all sizes and colours decorated the walls as far down the corridor as Severus could see.

Severus cleared his throat. “Ah, Albus, what are you doing?” he asked cautiously. Albus swung around and beamed at him.

“Dwawing!” he exclaimed happily, and then turned back to add a random blob to another pixie.

“Wouldn’t it have been better to . . . dwaw . . . in your office?” Severus asked. “I’m not sure Hogwarts would appreciate you . . . dwawing all over her walls.”

He discovered his mistake almost immediately, as Albus turned to face him again wearing a ferocious scowl.

“Hogwarts likes me!” Albus bellowed. “Hogwarts lets me do what I want!” He advanced on Severus, waving the sharp pencil at him. Severus took several hasty steps backwards, hoping he wouldn’t end up falling down the Grand Staircase.

“I’m sure she does,” he started to say in a placating manner, but Albus was too fired up with childish rage at the attempt to deny him to be placated that easily. He waved an arm behind himself, and to Severus’ horror, his artwork sprang to life.

“I’ll get you!” Albus howled, and the overwhelming cloud of pixies and fwooper birds arrowed straight at Severus.

Severus had a very healthy sense of self-preservation. He turned on his heel and ran.

Harry was getting bored floating by the ceiling. The only thing up there were the odd spider’s web and a vaguely lavender-coloured splotchy thing that he didn’t want to examine too closely. Had Snape found Professor Dumbledore yet? How hard could it be with the map? Unless of course the Headmaster was in the Room of Requirement . . .

Harry’s thoughts were interrupted as Snape burst through the office door and slammed it shut behind him, sagging against it in relief.

“Uh, Professor . . . ?” Harry asked tentatively. Snape was filthy – covered in all manner of gunk and what looked to be fwooper feathers, all of which were various fluorescent colours that in no way suited Snape.

Snape lifted his head to glare up at Harry. “Not . . . one . . . word, Potter,” he hissed. “Otherwise you’ll be in detention for so long that your great-grandchildren will still be serving it.”

Harry swallowed hard and remained quiet. Obviously Snape’s attempt at getting the medicine into Professor Dumbledore had not gone well. Snape crossed to the fireplace and tossed a handful of Floo powder in. “Minerva!” he called.

“Severus? What’s happening?” Professor McGonagall answered him almost immediately. “Have you managed to dose Albus yet?”

“Not as such,” Snape said, sourly. “Is there any way as Deputy Headmistress that you can get Hogwarts to stop listening to him?”

There was a short pause. “What has he done?” McGonagall asked cautiously.

“Apart from creating a flock of fwoopers and a group of pixies from his drawings on the fourth floor? Apart from making the Grand Staircase move into one big loop? Apart from bring the suits of armour to life and setting them loose to “guard” him? Apart from convincing the walls to randomly move around? Apart from conjuring a giant bunny rabbit of all things?!” Snape’s voice was rising with each new item he listed.

“Oh, dear,” McGonagall sighed. “I can try, Severus, but it might take some doing to convince Hogwarts that the Headmaster is actually incapacitated, since he is still moving around under his own power.”

“Except that he now has the mind of a five year old,” Snape hissed. “Surely Hogwarts should not be looking for that characteristic in her Headmaster!”

“Severus, Hogwarts is over a thousand years old,” McGonagall gently reminded him. “To her, we’re all child-like. It’s just a case of degrees.”

Snape made a frustrated growling noise in his throat, then visibly took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “But Hogwarts can be reasoned with,” he said in a more normal tone. “The students are being made to do things they wouldn’t normally do, or ever do. Almost all the staff and a good number of the students are being locked away, thereby denying them freedom of movement. No school business is being handled at all. The cause of all of it is Albus Dumbledore. Surely Hogwarts would have to agree that this is not acceptable in a Headmaster.”

There was a sudden faint rumbling emanating from the very stones of the castle. Harry looked around wildly. He did not want to be stuck this close to the ceiling if it was going to collapse!

Snape looked around the office. “Minerva, was that Hogwarts agreeing?” he asked.

“I believe so,” McGonagall said. “I don’t believe she’s cancelled any of Albus’ magic, but at the very least she won’t assist him any more.”

“That will do well enough,” Snape answered. He looked upwards. “Thank you, Hogwarts. We will do our best to restore the Headmaster to his . . . usual self as soon as possible.”

There was a faint pop! and something medium-sized and round appeared on the mantel. Harry and Snape stared at it, before Snape began to laugh.

“Severus?” McGonagall called. “What was that?”

“Hogwarts has decided to assist us,” Snape replied. He scooped the item from the mantel and sniffed at it. “She’s provided a medicated lemon drop.”

“Does this mean I’ll be able to get down soon?” Harry asked, eagerly. Snape looked up at him and nodded.

“No doubt, Potter.” He retrieved the map from his robe pocket and peered intently at it. “Albus is on the second floor . . .” He pocketed the map and strode towards the door. “I’ll be back shortly, Potter. Don’t go anywhere.”

Harry grumbled and folded his arms, but said nothing this time as Snape stalked out.

Severus strode down towards the second floor, relieved that he could go straight there this time, rather than having to detour halfway around the castle, as he’d had to do to reach Minerva’s office before. Honestly, Albus owed him a raise. He didn’t earn anywhere near enough for stunts like these.

As he reached the second floor, he pulled the map from his pocket again, but before he could consult it, the ghost of Moaning Myrtle came hurtling towards him.

“Oh, Professor!” she wailed. “It’s so awful! Banned from my own toilet!”

“I beg your pardon?” Severus asked, but experienced a sinking feeling even as he spoke.

“Professor Dumbledore threw me out!” Moaning Myrtle gurgled, and sniffed heartily. “My own toilet! He just wants to make a mess in there!”

As if to prove her point, the sound of flushing came from a room halfway along the corridor, and a small flood of water gushed out of the doorway. Severus rolled his eyes. Lovely . . .

Splashing his way forward, Severus warily approached the door. “Albus?” he called. “It’s Severus. I have something for you.”

“Have you come to play with me?” Albus asked, sounding delighted. He’d obviously already forgotten that he’d sent a flock of fwooper birds and pixies after Severus.

Severus gingerly stepped through the door. “Something like that,” he agreed.

Albus was standing in one of the cubicles, holding a small toy goldfish in his hand. The other hand was gripping tightly to the flush-chain. “Playin’ swimmin’,” he said, brightly. He dropped the toy goldfish into the toilet and pulled the chain. Severus hid a wince as a flood of water erupted across the room once again. Albus was definitely buying him new robes after this.

“Who’s swimming?” he asked, and sidled closer so he could see better. Albus appeared to have found some old toy soldiers somewhere. Severus really hoped they hadn’t actually belonged to anybody. “Here, Albus,” he said, and drew the lemon drop Hogwarts had given to him out of his robe pocket. “Look what I’ve got for you.” He extended his hand towards the Headmaster.

Albus tilted his head and stared intently at the sweet. “Don’t like ‘em,” he finally pronounced, and turned back to where the toy goldfish was floating in the toilet. He blinked, and there was a brief flash of light, and the goldfish was suddenly not a toy anymore, and swimming under its own power.

Severus blinked at Albus. “Of course you like lemon drops,” he said, impatiently. “Now take it!”

“Nope,” Albus carolled, “and you can’t make me!”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Severus muttered under his breath. He decided to try a different approach. “Why do you not like lemon drops?” he asked.

“’Cause they made me feel yucky,” Albus said, and pouted down at the goldfish. Another blink later, and it had grown wings, and was flapping them in a frantic attempt to lift itself out of the toilet bowl.

“Well, this one won’t,” Severus said, holding it out again. “It’s full of . . . good stuff.”

“Pwomise?” Albus finally turned his attention back to Severus.

“Yes, I promise,” he said.

“Okay!” Albus snatched the sweet from his hand and popped it into his mouth, chewing briskly.

There was a pause, where Severus was afraid that it wasn’t going to work, there wasn’t any medicine in that sweet, Albus was immune, Hogwarts had tricked him . . . and then Albus suddenly shuddered, slumped against the cubicle wall, and groaned.

“Albus?” Severus asked cautiously. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, Merlin! Severus?” Albus peered at him, then buried his face in his hands. “What have I done?”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” Severus said with relief. Albus tottered his way towards Severus, who gripped him by the arm and steered him out of the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle darted past them with a wail of gratitude as soon as they were out.

“I’m so sorry, Severus,” Albus moaned, leaning heavily against Severus. “I don’t know what came over me!”

“Oh, it’s not just me you have to apologise to,” Severus informed him, cheerfully. “I’m sure Minerva will be wanting a word with you.”

Albus blanched. “Perhaps I’d better let her cool down,” he said weakly.

Severus smiled, and it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Oh, I don’t think she’ll be cooling down any time soon,” he said, gleefully, and if Albus hadn’t been using one of his arms for support, he would have rubbed his hands together at the thought. “Then there’s the house elves, and Fawkes, and Potter . . .”

“Harry?” Albus looked at him, alarmed. “What did I do to the poor boy?”

“Made him have a tea party with you, turned his owl into a stuffed toy, and currently I believe he is hovering near the ceiling because you wanted to play balloons,” said Severus. He suspected his Patronus would be very strong the next time he conjured it, with those images to call on.

As they turned towards Minerva’s office, Albus suddenly appeared to remember something, and he winced. “I don’t think that was all I did,” he said, softly.

Before Severus could ask him what he meant, he suddenly heard Potter shouting at the top of his lungs. “PROFESSOR!! You change me back right now!” he was bellowing. “Professor Dumbledore, I know you can hear me!! PROFESSOOORRRR!!!”

Albus pulled Severus to a halt just as they reached the office doorway. “Perhaps it might be a good idea to let him cool down as well,” he said, and took a step backwards.

Unfortunately, for him, Harry had already spotted him.

“Professor, you turn me back right this minute!” he yelled, his eyes flashing with a murderous rage. Snape stared upwards in amazement, then began to laugh.

Harry was dressed in a blue milkmaid’s outfit.