Professor Dumbledore hurried through the corridors toward the kitchens. He was rarely called down for anything but always welcomed. The last time he'd visited, it was to celebrate the birth of one of the kitchen elves' daughter. This time, however, it was because of some trouble. One of the elves was, as the message said, injured or gone mad. They weren't certain which.
As he arrived, the noise became increasingly loud with the shouts of pure excitement, in a manic way. Upon entering, he saw his hired elf, Dobby, swinging from the light fixture singing The Little Patchwork Wizard.
"Little Patchwork Wizard going to the fair... Little Patchwork Wizard selling potions there... How many potions will he sell? One! Two! Three!..." Dobby sang, each number accentuated by a swing of the chandelier.
Dumbledore reached up and lifted the elf down. "My little friend, what has happened to you?"
"Oh, Professor Sir. Dobby is getting the most wonderful present in his stocking! It is making Dobby feel as if he will never stop moving, Sir!" the diminutive elf explained.
"May I see this present, Dobby?" he asked.
One of the other house elves brought Dobby's Christmas stocking to their master and he inspected it carefully. Aside from the usual sweets and galleons that he personally delivered, there were a couple of blue and silver cans that he recognized as Muggle in origin even though he was not knowledgeable of the exact concoction. He then noticed the opened can near the sinks. He sniffed the container and did not identify any ingredients that would be poisonous to an elf but he thought perhaps more expertise was required and he sent another of the elves to wake the Potions Master.
Severus Snape appreciated his sleep more than anything else he had in life and being woken to deal with an elf that got himself into some trouble was NOT how he liked to leave it. He threw his robes on in a haphazard fashion so that he might get back to rest before having to face another day of stupid, idiotic children acting more like animals than people simply because it was the Christmas break.
The noise from the kitchens was grating to the ears and he entered quickly to find out what the trouble was. The headmaster released the vibrating elf to speak to the potions master.
"Severus, our little friend received this in his stocking and I don't have enough knowledge about muggle drinks to know if it was poisoned or not," Dumbledore said.
Of anyone, Severus thought that the headmaster SHOULD have better working knowledge of muggle things since he seemed addicted to their sweets. He took the can and sniffed it cautiously to gauge its aroma. It was obnoxious, to say the least; but there was nothing poisonous about it. He then read the ingredients listed on the can and nearly slapped his head in aggravated response.
"What mentally deficient moron sent an elf a caffeinated energy drink?!" Severus demanded.
"Will it harm him?" Dumbledore asked, concerned for the elf.
"No, but it will make him jumpy and excitable for a couple of days," Severus replied. "This beverage is scarcely fit for human consumption. I would suggest it be confiscated from him."
"It seems a shame as it was a gift," the headmaster said.
"I feel certain you will much rather deprive him this 'gift' than to see him ill from caffeine overdose," Severus said. Give him a cup of butterbeer and that should calm him. I'm returning to my bed and expect I'll receive no further interruptions tonight."
The kitchen door closed roughly behind him and Dumbledore gave Dobby the butterbeer that settled his overly animated flailing. Once the little elf was resting comfortably in his own tiny bed, Dumbledore took the offending cans with him to his office and set them on his desk. He took the open can and once again sniffed it curiously before putting it to his lips and taking a sip. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted.
"Since it is designed by muggles, it should be alright to drink," he said to himself as he opened a second can.