Lemon Drops.
Minerva McGonagall, as everyone knew, was a brilliant teacher. Her skill in which she taught classes of rowdy students was impeccable, the glare she had managed to perfect during her sixth year could turn the burliest of seventh-years into quivering piles of frogspawn and she could spot a trouble maker within point two of a second. This was why she was currently storming up the enchanted stairs to Dumbledore's office.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! If you do not send letters to Black and Potter's parents within the next ten seconds I swear to Merlin I'll –!"
Minerva stopped, stared, and for the third time in her life was speechless.
"What on earth -?" she managed to murmur faintly after several moments of silence.
Dumbledore smiled serenely as he turned away from a gigantic wooden box to address his dumbfounded deputy.
"Lemon drops, my dear Minerva, by the crate full!"
