A Real Boy


New firsties to torment, thousands of new pranks to play... Ahh, there’s no better day than the first day of school!

Peeves the Poltergeist danced a little jig in midair, cackling in fiendish delight as he surveyed the vast and empty Great Hall stretched out beneath him like a scroll. Only one week to go until the new term at Hogwarts began--until the Master of Mayhem was put to work once more!

As always, Peeves had taken a well-deserved break from mischief this summer. With Caretaker Filth away from the castle for three months, there had been no real reason for Peeves to cause trouble,for what was the point of playing pranks if there was no one to infuriate? But things were about to change for the better: Filch and his stinking toerag of a cat would be returning tomorrow morning, and Peeves had every intention of welcoming them home in true poltergeist style. But where to start?


The dungeons, Peeves decided gleefully, eyes lighting up as he considered everything that could be done in the dank confines of Professor Snape’s classroom. Greasy old Snape was one of the few professors Peeves did not dare to cross--not to his face, anyway. Rubbing his hands together gleefully, Peeves clicked his heels together twice before zooming quickly toward the dungeons.

Peeves felt a strange prickling sensation as he entered the darkened corridor that lead to the Potions classroom. The poltergeist had never liked the dungeons--the darkness, the dankness, the sheer creepiness of the place was enough to ensure that the colorfully dressed little old man rarely entered it. It was even worse during the summer when the enchanted torches, which usually flickered eerily with orange light, were put out. Tugging on the colorful ruff fastened about his neck, Peeves floated nervously through the door and into the deserted classroom.

Much to his surprise, however, the room was not completely empty. Perched neatly on top of Snape’s desk, simmering above a tiny patch of enchanted flame, was a cauldron.

Peeves’ eyes lit up maliciously. It was obvious to him that Snape had left some sort of potion there to brew over the summer; and if it took that long to brew, it must have been complex potion to make. With a wicked cackle, Peeves zoomed over to the store cupboard and seized a handful of random potion ingredients. Frogspawn, toadstool, a pinch of some unidentifiable powder... Perfect!

As Peeves swooped over the cauldron, hands poised to drop his precious cargo, a scroll of parchment lying beside the cauldron caught his eye--but alas, before he could take a closer look, the slimy frogspawn slipped and plummeted into the bubbling cauldron with a splash!

Peeves cackled wickedly as the sizzling green liquid splashed upwards, thoroughly soaking the desk, the parchment, and finally... Peeves’ mouth.

For a moment, the poltergeist floated there, completely unaware of what had happened. But then, of a sudden, Peeves felt a horrible, unfamiliar lurching sensation where his heart should have been. Then, with his mouth dropping open wider and wider, Peeves was forced to witness a horrible event that would have, had Peeves been mortal, scarred his eyes and damaged his soul for all eternity.

For there, emerging from the cauldron, was one Professor Severus Snape. His black hair was as long and lank as ever, and in the half-light of the dungeon, his greasy hooked nose resembled the beak of some primordial ancestor of the modern bird. First his head, then his shoulders emerged from the cauldron; his writhing arms made their way out next, along with a pair of... wings?

After a moment of shocked silence, Peeves threw back his head and howled with uncontrollable laughter. For Professor Snape stood before him, miraculously warm and dry--but clad in a gauzy, very feminine set of blue dress robes. A pair of shimmering iridescent wings protruded from his hunched shoulders, beating madly in the air.

Snape stood there, scowling, until Peeves managed to control himself. Tapping a high-heeled foot on the ground, Snape gazed at his dainty watch impatiently, muttering under his breath. Finally, nearly fifteen minutes later, Peeves took a deep breath and floated down to the ground, leaning casually against the leg of Snape’s desk.

With a cheeky and insolent grin, Peeves looked up to where Snape stood, fury written across the Potions Master’s sallow face. Usually, the poltergeist would not have dared to tease Snape in such a manner... but now, how could he resist?

“My dear,� he began in the affected manner of a gentleman; he sounded as though he were speaking to a lady. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Percival Peeves the Poltergeist, and you are...� Peeves struggled for a moment to come up with a witty nickname, but was spared the necessity of doing so by Professor Snape himself.

“I’m the...� Snape looked as though he were choking on something large and slimy...

“I’m the... the Blue...� ...as though he were eating a particularly sour lemon...

“I’m the... the Blue... Fairy.� ...as though he’d been forced to smell fresh dragon dung.

Peeves’ eyes widened in delight and disbelief as Snape’s narrowed in hatred and humiliation. “The potion!� he cried, realization setting in. Giggling most unbecomingly, Peeves continued. “I suppose you really, really wanted to be a fairy, so you made a potion that would make you one. And lucky Peevsie managed to stumble in in time to see your delightful transformation. Why, I never would have guessed--�

Peeves fell quiet as Snape drew his wand... however, his silence was not out of fear--it was from utter, malicious amusement. For in Snape’s hand was a shimmering silver sliver of a wand, at the top of which rested a glowing sapphire star.

“Now see here,� growled Snape, his fairy wings beating menacingly through the air. “This potion was designed to grant the drinker one wish, and that still holds.� His hands were balled into fists, and he looked livid. “But because you saw fit to throw in some extra ingredients...� Snape’s nostrils flared as he leaned down to sniff the concoction. “Fairy dust, no doubt... There have been some rather unfortunate side effects.�

Snape looked as though he would have liked nothing better than to throttle Peeves there and then, but the sallow-faced man somehow restrained himself. Peeves looked overjoyed; not only had he humiliated Snape, but he had also ensured himself a wish! Grinning happily, Peeves sprung into the air and hovered insolently in front of Snape’s face.

“Feed Filch to the Giant Squid!�

“No.�

“Let Hagrid’s dog eat Filch’s cat--or just let Hagrid Eat Filch.�

“No.�

“Drown Filch in the lake.�

“For Merlin’s sake, I’m a Fairy--not a murderer!�

Peeves scolwed angrily. “You’re not a very good Fairy if you can’t even grant my wish.� Flipping upside down, the poltergeist floated upward, planted his feet on the ceiling, and began pacing back and forth . “Well, if you can’t torment Filch for me...� An evil smile crossed Peeves’ ghostly face. “Make me a student here--just long enough for me to give the filthy caretaker a hard time.�

Fairy Snape looked immensely bored. “Is that your final wish?� he asked coolly, his coal-black eyes glinting in the darkness.

Peeves nodded decisively. “I want to be a real boy!�

Fairy Cake and Footwear


“I want to be a real boy!�

Peeves’ words rang out through the darkened dungeon, mingling with the sound of bubbling fluid coming from the cauldron. The poltergeist’s insubstantial chin jutted out mutinously, daring Snape to refuse this newest wish.

However, with a sigh, the Blue Fairy simply brandished his ridiculous wand and nodded in irritated agreement. “A real boy it is, then, poltergeist,� Snape snapped, giving the wand a flourish. “Abra Kedabra, Hocus Pocus...� He trailed off with obvious boredom, still swishing the wand back and forth with exaggerated hand motions.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of white light. Peeves swayed on the spot for a few moments--then plunged earthward, landing with a sickening crunch on the cold stone floor.

“Ahhhhh....� Peeves moaned as an unfamiliar and decidedly unpleasant sensation--pain--swept across his body. What was going on? Looking down at his hands, Peeves groaned inwardly. No longer were they the same clever, translucent fingers he had been used to--they were pudgy and fat and clumsy and... pink?

Wincing with pain, Peeves got to his feet. He surveyed the dungeon around him through new--literally--eyes. It seemed even darker and fuzzier than before. He was still squinting nervously about the room when a viselike hand gripped him around the arm.

“Come along,� Snape hissed furiously, rage etched across his sallow features as he stared down his nose at Peeves. “We’re going to see the Headmaster.�

“What?� Eleven-year-old Peeves puffed out his fat little chest indignantly. The poltergeist had become a short and plump boy with floppy orange hair, heavily rounded cheeks, and a freckled nose; his mouth was wide and slack, and his dark eyes gleamed with undisguised malice as he glared up at Snape. “Let go of me right now! You did your part, and I don’t need you anymore.�

However, the Potions Master was not to be swayed. “If you hadn’t noticed,� he hissed angrily, “I’m still a fairy.�

Launching into the air, the Blue Fairy soared out of the dungeons, his graceful wings a blur. Peeves was watching him leave with satisfaction--he had finally gotten the best of Snape--when an invisible hook seized him about the midriff and tugged violently. With a high-pitched screech that sounded akin to a mouse with its tail caught in a rusty gate, the ex-poltergeist was dragged forcibly behind the Potions Master, bumping painfully on the hard stone floor as they went.

By the time the odd duo had reached the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office, poor Peeves was bruised and bleeding in more places that one. Clutching his sore bottom, the little red-haired boy staggered upright and glared at Snape. Lowering his starry silver wand, the Blue Fairy sniffed contemptuously and turned his back on Peeves.

“Fizzing Whizbees!� cried Snape impressively, relief shining in his eyes as he tapped the stone gargoyle with his wand. Dumbledore would free him from this terrible fairy curse--and he would no longer be obliged to help out that pesky poltergeist whenever he got into trouble. However, the sneering marble statue blocking the office entrance remained as solid and immobile as ever... Apparently, Dumbledore had decided to change the password for the new year.

Peeves watched for a moment in mild amusement as the Blue Fairy soared into midair, wings buzzing angrily. The Potions Master’s loud curses rang out through the quiet hall as he kicked at the lifeless gargoyle, awakening several scandalized portraits and causing one suit of armor to stand up and walk creakily out of the hall, its aching helmet clutched tightly in its hands.

Some ten minutes later, when Peeves had finally tired of listening to Snape’s ranting and rather intriguing curses (‘Blast a wombat!' and ‘Oh, hippogriff hairballs,’ for example), the ex-poltergeist decided that it was time to take his leave. Tiptoeing clumsily across the hard, unfamiliar floor, Peeves jumped up in alarm as Snape turned to notice him. With a look of comic dismay on his chubby, freckled face, Peeves lunged toward the wall for escape.

Once again, there was a sickening crunch as Peeves’ solid body came in contact with a hard surface. Fairy Snape smirked cruelly as he watched the little boy tear up in pain. However, his newfound Fairiness compelled him to offer the boy advice.

“You can’t go through solid objects anymore, Peeves,� said Snape, his sickeningly sweet voice contrasting greatly with the look on vindicative pleasure on his face. The next instant, his voice had returned to its usual cold tones. “Little fool.�

Just as a wincing Peeves was about to give a sharp retort, a deep and serene voice sounded from across the hall. “Ah, Severus, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?�

Peeves turned abruptly as Albus Dumbledore came striding through the deserted corridor, clad in summery Hawaiian-print robes and looking distinctly sunburned. Somehow, the tall white-haired man looked bigger and more impressive than Peeves had remembered. With nimble grace that belied his aged appearance, the headmaster ducked under the buzzing Potions Master and approached the gargoyle.

“I changed the password,� said Dumbledore lightly, his bright blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. “It’s ‘Fairy Cakes’.�

The stone gargoyle sprang into life, leaping out of the way to reveal the elegant staircase that led to the headmaster’s office. With a gallant sweep of his arm, Dumbledore gestured for his two visitors to enter first. After a moment of consideration, Peeves entered--he had never before been in Dumbledore’s office, and the opportunity was too good to miss. The Blue Fairy followed immediately, his high-heeled shoes clicking noisily against the hard marble staircase.

When the small procession had finally reached the top of the stairs, Peeves took a seat across from Dumbledore’s desk. Perhaps, he mused, I should behave myself. Now that I know the password, I can come back in any time I like...

Peeves snapped back to the present as both Dumbledore and Snape sat down. With amusement written across his face, the headmaster interlaced his fingers and smiled benevolently at Snape.

“Incidentally, Severus,� he began conversationally, “Your shoes are a rather interesting choice. I recall my Great Auntie Beatrice used to have a pair quite like them--might I ask where you purchased them?�

Fairy Snape did not deign to respond. Laying his star-topped wand on Dumbledore’s desk, he looked the headmaster dead in the eye. “We have a problem, Professor,� he said stiffly, casting Peeves a very dirty look that was enough to chill the nonexistent blood of any ghost.

“And what problem might this be?� Professor Dumbledore looked politely interested, but raised a hand before Snape could continue. “Would you care for some Fairy Cake, Severus? It’s quite delicious--I’ve grown very fond of it over the summer.� Without waiting for a reply, the headmaster cut two slices of the cake and placed them before his guests. With a look of satisfaction, Dumbledore nodded to Snape. “Please continue.�

Snape looked livid as he purposefully avoided looking at the food placed before him. “Our dear Peeves--� he broke off to glare at his little companion, “decided to tamper with the potion I had brewing in my classroom. The result turned him into a boy, and I into a... a...�

Dumbledore continued to watch the Potions Master expectantly; it was all Peeves could do not to burst out laughing as Snape struggled to choke out the word. Finally, though, the hook-nosed professor managed it. “A fairy.�

Albus Dumbledore nodded sagely, drumming his fingers softly across his desk. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, the door to the office burst open to reveal Argus Filch.

The Hogwarts caretaker looked happier than Peeves had ever seen him; his eyes were bulging with happiness, and a wild smile threatened to split his narrow face in two.

“Dumbledore!� cried Filch, his hands flailing madly in the air. “Peeves is gone!�

Both Snape’s and Peeves’ heads turned to stare at the headmaster, waiting to hear what he would say. Dumbledore’s face had suddenly turned very serious.

“Ahh...� he said, closing his eyes and lifting his head skyward. “I was afraid we might encounter this little snag.�

“I was afraid we might encounter this little snag.�

The manic smile did not leave Filch’s face; he hardly seemed to have noticed Professor Dumbledore’s words. In fact, he had not even registered the pair of iridescent wings beating slowly on the Potionmaster’s back.

“Professor?� inquired Snape with icy politeness.

Albus Dumbledore was thinking carefully. Nearly a full minute elapsed before he opened his eyes. “I suppose that is excellent news, Argus,� said Dumbledore lightly. (Peeves bristled in indignation.) “I suggest you go tell Mrs. Norris immediately. I’m sure she’ll be just as delighted as the rest of us.�

Cackling with glee, Filch shuffled out.

As soon as the door shut behind the caretaker, Snape took to the air. His electric blue wings were remarkably similar in color to the headmaster’s eyes. “Professor Dumbledore,� said Snape coldly, suspended several feet in the air, “Would you kindly remove these wings from my back immediately!�

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Severus,� said Dumbledore. His voice was grave, but the twinkle in his eyes indicated that he was trying with great difficulty to fight off a smile. “Those wings were granted to you by a very powerful brand of magic, and only powerful magic can take them away.�

Peeves could no longer contain himself; he cackled in delight. “Ickle Fairy Snape, doomed to flutter the dungeons for eternity!�

“THAT DOES IT,� roared Snape, forgetting completely that he was in the presence of the headmaster. Landing on the floor and rolling up his powder-blue sleeves (the trim was lacy), he pointed his shimmering wand directly at the little boy. “LEVICORPUS.�

Three large bubbles blossomed from the sapphire star at the wand’s tip. Professor Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, humming contentedly as he watched the bubbles drift lazily toward the high ceiling of his office.

The Blue Fairy lowered his wand, shaking in rage. “Professor Dumbledore,� he said, and for the first time there was a hint of desperation in his voice. “Classes start tomorrow. What must be done to rid myself of this curse?�

Dumbledore gave a little sigh and removed his half-moon spectacles. Ignoring Snape’s question, he leaned forward and looked Peeves dead in the eye. “Mr. Peeves, it appears that you have inadvertently invoked a very powerful enchantment. Not only have you miraculously turned into a human being, but you have also found yourself a Fairy godmother. As long as you remain in your present state, our dear Potionsmistress—beg pardon, Potionsmater—will be bound to protect you.�

The headmaster turned to Professor Snape. “Fortunately, there is a way to return Peeves to his traditional form. If I am not mistaken, Peeves became a boy because he consumed a dosage of Velleserum with an unanticipated addition. Fairy dust, perhaps?�

Snape nodded.

“I suggest you brew another batch of the potion, without our young friend’s culinary experimentations.�

Snape looked aghast. “That potion took nearly four months to brew, and it was not even completed when it was ruined.�

“Yes,� said Dumbledore sagely, “I’m afraid so. However it is the only way.�

“But the other teachers—and the students. They will never take me seriously as long as I have these.� He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to point at the fairy wings, which were beginning to droop rather sadly. “I simply cannot teach like this.�

“My dear Severus,� replied Dumbledore, “I’m afraid those wings are the least of your worries. As dazzling as your dress robes look on you, they rather remind me of what my Great Aunt Grizelda used to wear to family weddings. Certainly your students will find your sudden change in fashion far more distracting than your new appendages.�

Peeves tittered, and the headmaster turned his attention to the boy once more. “Now, Peeves,� he said, not unkindly. “You call yourself Percival at times, I believe? Then I suppose I am honored to extend an invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to one Mr. Percival Peeves.� Dumbledore raised a hand to silence Snape’s howl of protest and Peeves’ cry of delight. “You both must know this: the new batch of Velleserum will only work if our new students drinks it and wishes with all his heart to be returned to his normal state.�

“I shan’t!� cried Peeves. He stuck his tongue out at Snape. “You’ll keep your pretty little wings forever!�

Dumbledore frowned. “Percival, if you accept your spot at Hogwarts, you will be held to the exact same standard as every other students to pass through its doors. You must show proper respect to your professors.�

A smile was slowly spreading across Snape’s face. “Don’t worry, Professor Dumbledore,� he said, and his voice regained some of its usual silkiness. “By the time the potion is ready, I daresay Mr. Peeves will very much regret today’s wish. In fact, I believe he will be begging me for the potion that will restore him to the… ah, painless existence of a ghost.�

Dumbledore did not appear to be listening. He had conjured up a set of darts, and seemed very intent on popping the three large bubbles now resting on the ceiling.