Google Thyself

Author's Notes: This is probably the most exclamation marks and italics that I have ever used in my life. Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter One: "To The Staffroom!"

"Albus!"

Albus Dumbledore looked up from the book he was reading in time to see an enraged Severus Snape storming into his office, followed by several slightly embarrassed-looking members of the staff.

"Yes, Severus?" he enquired mildly, ignoring the death-glare being sent his way.

"Is there a reason why the wards are no longer letting any of us outside the Hogwarts grounds and there are about a dozen aurors guarding the perimeter?"

Dumbledore seemed to consider this question for a minute or two as he watched the ire of his Potions Master build, blue eyes twinkling madly. When it seemed like he was in serious danger of getting hexed, he decided that he'd left it long enough, and answered the question.

"Yes."

"Well, then you'd better – wait, what?"

Standing in the doorway, Minerva McGonagall smirked. It had been worth being caught up in the angry whirlwind that was Snape in a bad mood just to see the normally unflappable man taken aback. Beside her, Filius Flitwick sniggered. He had been convinced to help get answers from Albus easily enough, but had found the many sets of stairs difficult due to his size.

The Headmaster in question was still twinkling. With his eyes set to somewhere between 'annoying' and 'infuriating', he elaborated. Slightly.

"Yes, there is a reason why the wards are no longer letting anyone outside the Hogwarts grounds and there are about a dozen aurors guarding the perimeter."

There was a long pause. McGonagall was trying to muffle her laughter in her Gryffindor scarf.

Snape, however, was not amused.

"And that reason would be ...?"

Albus' expression finally changed from the amused smile that he had been wearing the entire conversation. Settling back into his chair, he sighed.

"Well, it all started this morning with my visit to the Ministry..."

o o o

Half an hour later, the story was nearly finished and the professors present looked equally stunned and awed. "And that," Dumbledore happily concluded, "is why arguing with the Minister of Magic is not such a good idea as it might first seem."

Flitwick looked impressed. Snape, however, seemed to be in a state of shock.

"How could that have possibly seemed like a good idea? Do Lemon Drops have some previously unknown side effects, such as – oh, I don't know, insanity?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Now, now, dear boy, aren't you overreacting a lit-"

He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. "I am NOT overreacting! The whole school is in lockdown because you lost your temper with Fudge, said that he smells like a dead hedgehog, and told him that he could 'stick his fancy politics where the sun doesn't shine'!"

Dumbledore tried and failed to repress a grin. "I also called him a son of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

There was a slightly awkward silence, and more muffled laughter, before McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "What in the name of Merlin is a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"

Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "Would you believe it, I'm not entirely sure."

"No, I wouldn't believe it."

"I heard Luna Lovegood mention one."

"Oh." She paused. "I believe you now. But we're still in a mess."

Staring pensively out the window at some of the Aurors, the Headmaster smiled. "I'm sure that we can make the best of this situation. We are Hogwarts Professors, are we not?"

The staff looked at each other uneasily and nodded. It wasn't saying much - technically, when possessing Quirrel, Voldemort had been a Hogwarts Professor. Even worse, so had Lockhart.

"Wait a minute," Snape said suddenly, apparently over his shock. "Term's over, the students are gone – what are we going to do locked up in here over the holidays?"

There was a moment of thoughtful silence.

"Brew potions?"

"Knit kilts?"

"Minerva, you can't knit a kilt. Steal some stepladders?"

"Die horribly tragic deaths that we cannot escape?"

"Hello, Sybil, didn't see you there. Play pranks?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've always wondered what would happen if you tried to feed calamari to the Giant Squid."

"Be torn to pieces, no doubt. So ... Anyone have any ideas that might actually be interesting?"

Albus, who has stayed uncharacteristically quiet the whole conversation, finally spoke up.

"I know just the thing. To the staffroom!"

o o o

A chorus of babbling voices echoed through Hogwarts, loud and argumentative.

"Why are we running down this corridor?"

"Hey, stop stepping on my foot!"

"What is Albus humming?"

"I don't know. He said something about needing theme music, whatever that is."

"Guys?"

"I just had a thought – does Malfoy dye his hair?"

"Not unless hair dye is genetic. His spawn looks just like him."

"You can think?"

"Shut up, Snape."

"Guys?"

"Try and make me."

"Okay, I will."

"That was my nose, you savage! You broke my nose!"

"You said to try."

"It's not broken, Severus. Man up."

"Guys?"

"Do you know what happened to the last person who told me to man up?"

"Order of Merlin, First Class?"

"He's buried in my garden, that's what."

"You don't have a garden."

"He's buried in my ... flowerpot, that's what."

"That's really creepy."

"Thank you."

"Guys! We're going the wrong way!"

They stopped and looked around. It was true. They had spent the last fifteen minutes dashing through the hallways and were at the opposite side of the castle to the Staff Room.

They looked around. They looked at each other.

"Well, why didn't you tell us that before?"