He was two seconds away from a wonderful supper of blackberry jam on toast. However, as was the fashion at Hogwarts (and, indeed, in life), there was inevitably something to impede him.
Albus twisted the lid this way and that, pushing until his knuckles were white, his fingertips a scarlet hue. The House Elves had long since retired to bed to prepare themsleves for their next day of almost-continuous cooking.
As if sent by angels, the staccato footsteps of another person advancing towards him sounded out.
"Need some help?"
Minerva pointed her wand at the jar. The lid popped open.