A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, or Dan Brown, or the concept of "the intervention"… so… yeah… not mine… I'm on borrowed time… 'My Life is For Rent' and all that… I don't own Dido either… Anyway… ONWARDS!
It was with weary legs that Albus Dumbledore walked towards the Great Hall. He took apprehensive steps, absent-mindedly watching the spots of sunlight skittering around the floor. The gleaming double doors loomed before him. At the sight of them, his face dropped to a darkened, disheartened frown.
What had gotten him into this stupor?
Just an hour earlier, he had embarked on his regular Saturday evening walk around the school perimeter. All had been normal until, unexpectedly, his cohort and right-hand woman, Minerva McGonagall, literally sprang out of the ground (well… a Headmaster must be afforded some artistic license).
"Thank goodness, Albus, I have been looking for you absolutely everywhere! Since when was 'errand girl' in my job description?" Albus had just begun to open his mouth to retort when she stopped him. "Don't answer that. Anyway, I was sent to give you this." And without further ado, she was gone once more in a flurry of vibrant emerald green.
Albus opened the hand in which Minerva had placed a small slip of bright red parchment. On it was nothing more than a short sentence - if it could be called that… it was more like a string of words.
Great Hall, tonight, nine.
Despite this being so cryptic that not even that Muggle author Dan Brown could figure it out (Albus's words, not mine), Albus reasoned that he must be expected at the Great Hall at nine o'clock.
"Good Lord, that's only an hour away!" he muttered to himself; he would never have time to put his - ahem - colourful robe collection to good use!
So now, he traipsed through the corridor in his 'dreary' purple and green robes, an unopened packet of lemon drops weighing heavily in his pocket. Actually, now would be the perfect time for a sweet. As he popped one of the bittersweet lozenges into his mouth, he forced the double doors open and almost choked on his lemon drop.
Stretching from one side of the hall to another was a long yellow banner with the words 'An Urgent Intervention' tattooed across it. Underneath the banner, his fellow colleagues were stood in a straight line, each wearing the most morose expression and holding different-coloured cards in their hands.
"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" Albus asked in astonishment.
"Albus," Minerva stepped forward from the line, "this is an intervention."
An intervention? He had seen these before. He had organised one of these before. What could he possibly have done wrong? Interventions were only held if a member of staff was getting dangerously obsessed with something. What was his obsession?
"Why do I need an intervention?" he asked with a mouthful of lemon drop.
Each staff member looked reluctant to answer, casting their eyes around anything but their employer. Finally, Gryffindor bravery won the day; Minerva answered.
"Lemon drops."
"Excuse me?" he stuttered with his usually sparkling blue eyes wide open and devoid of the knowing glint that resided there normally.
"Apart from your taste in the most head-splittingly garish robes in the world, they have become your worst habit," Minerva said rather too quickly for fear that Albus might break down in tears or something of equal or greater ridiculousness. He looked devastated.
"They smell awful," Rolanda Hooch added, a wicked smile on her face.
"And they are rotting your teeth," said Poppy Pomfrey, the courage of her fellow colleagues obviously spurring her on and encouraging her to present her medical concerns for the Headmaster, who looked as though he were on the verge of a mental breakdown. Or worse.
"You eat them all the time; when you're excited, when you're sad, when you're hungry…" chimed in Filius Flitwick.
"When you're angry, when you can't sleep," added Pomona Sprout, who was rather given to finishing the Charms Professor's sentences. Pretty soon, the entire staff body were beginning to air their grievances over the lemony treats that were never out of the Headmaster's reach.
"Honeydukes are getting fed up of ordering them in for you."
"They're really sour! Have you ever actually tried one of those things?"
"Of course he has," Severus Snape said drolly, "that's exactly why we're here."
"You offer them to everybody…"
"Usually several times in the same conversation."
"You threw one at me the other day." Everybody turned towards Professor McGonagall, who was wearing a strangely out of character pout.
Albus Dumbledore was shell-shocked to say the least. Until now he had been unable to respond to his staff's onslaught of lemon drop abuse. When he spoke, it was with an undertone that made even Severus shudder.
"Fine. I will abstain from lemon drops for one month. But you mark my words, all of you; there will be consequences for this!"
A/N: So, which Professor would you like to see getting the intervention treatment next?