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!”