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.”