A/N: Prepare yourselves for the stupidest conclusion to a fic in the history of ever.

The warmth emanating from the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room did little to warm Harry as he listened to another of Ron's theories on the De-aging fiasco of Monday afternoon. As the evening wore on, his explanations had become more and more improbable.

"So, there's a troll in the dungeons –"

"I think that's been done before, Ron," Harry interrupted blandly.

"There has to be a reasonable explanation behind it," Hermione said, drawing her fluffy white blanket even tighter around her shoulders.

"Repeating that isn't going to help," Ron replied irritably. "At least I'm offering some suggestions here."

Noticing the indignant look on Hermione's face, Harry quickly suggested that the three of them join the rest of the school for dinner in the Great Hall before the situation escalated into a full-blown shouting match.

When they have begrudgingly shed their winter accessories and made their way to the Great Hall, most of the school was already attacking their evening meals. Immediately, however, Harry noticed some differences at the staff table; Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were more or less themselves again; Snape had resumed his seat with his ubiquitous sullen expression; most noticeably, there were an additional twelve adults squashed in between the teaching staff. One of these twelve, Lucius Malfoy, was already sneering at him. It was not until after dinner that the students were afforded an explanation for these impromptu visitors.

"The school governors, in an attempt to get back in touch with the school they are making decisions for, have decided to eat dinner with us tonight, which accounts for the rather cramped conditions up here." An appreciative mumble of laughter spread through the hall. "But they all have very busy lives, I am sure, so they shall be leaving now. Please be polite to them on their way out."

It was clear that this was not at all what the governors had intended as their faces instantly shifted to displays of disgrace and annoyance. Mr. Malfoy could be heard calling for Dumbledore as the students and staff began to file out of the room, in favour of their bedrooms.

"What exactly do you mean by this?"

"I am going to my room so that I may retire to bed, Lucius," Dumbledore replied, evidently struggling to restrain the smile threatening to rise onto his face.

"You know that is not what I mean, Albus," Malfoy replied sharply.

"I am afraid, Lucius, that you are not particularly clear in your meaning when you speak. Perhaps you should work on that. Now, if you will excuse me," the Headmaster said, drawing to a stop beside the Golden Trio, who had not moved from their seats with the rest of the crowd, "I need to have a discussion with a few of my students. Good evening, Lucius."

Malfoy sent a poisonous glare at Professor Dumbledore before he swept from the room. Harry could have jumped with glee.

"I believe," the Headmaster said, "that you three have something which you would like to tell me." How in Merlin's name does he do that? Harry thought, not for the first time.

"It's about Professor Snape, sir," Hermione blurted. That was it. They would have to tell him now.

"Is it indeed?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes barely containing a light twinkle.

"We know who poisoned him, Sir."

"It was Blaise Zabini," Ron added.

"Malfoy bet him that he could poison a teacher. He tried to poison Professor McGonagall, but ended up poisoning Snape instead."

After a moment of silence, Professor Dumbledore's grave features shifted to something akin to amusement.

"How ingenious! I am afraid, though, that you do not have the entire story."

*This is where everything goes all shimmery*

You see, we teachers also need something to distract ourselves from the rigour of school life. While I usually do not make bets with the staff – mainly because Minerva and Severus (however they might despise Divination) are practically Seers when it comes to predicting Quidditch results – I did make a bet with Professor Flitwick earlier this week.

Filius Flitwick glared once more at the side of Albus Dumbledore's head; the Headmaster was showing his ineptitude in the field of subtlety again. For the past few minutes, he had been gazing dreamily (yes, dreamily) at the form of Minerva McGonagall as she pored over a weighty tome on experimental transfiguration. Filius was not the only one to have noticed this unfortunate tendency in the Headmaster. All of the staff knew, even Sibyl Trelawney.

At that moment, Minerva looked up from her book, causing Albus to jerk his face and arm away, and knocking over his mug of tea in the process. Things, thought Filius, are getting out of control. It was because of this rather annoying episode that Filius proposed a bet to Albus later that evening.

"I am afraid that I do not quite understand what you are implying, Filius." The Headmaster said vaguely.

"Don't give me that, Albus! We have all seen you; you look at her like a lovesick puppy!"

"I resent that."

"The truth hurts," Filius retorted quickly.

"Was there a point to your observation, Filius?"

"Actually, there is. I would like to propose a bet," the Charms Professor grinned.

"Oh, no! No, no, no! I refuse."

"Come on, Albus, old chap. You're the one who is always saying that we can achieve anything if given the right motivation; well here's your motivation!" At the sight of Albus's unimpressed face, Filius added: "You never know what might happen, Albus."

Naturally, I could not resist such a proposition. I managed to get some Arboralis Adamenta venom from the greenhouses and I planned to slip it into Minerva's drink in the staffroom later. However, things rarely go to plan at Hogwarts, as I am sure you know.

Albus slipped down to the kitchens, in search of a sugary midnight snack to quiet his thoughts. Unfortunately, he was not the only one with this idea.

Severus Snape looked up from his mug of tea at the sound of footsteps advancing on the table at which he sat. In shuffled Albus Dumbledore, clad in a dark blue dressing gown, matching pyjamas and bright orange slippers that went with the marmalade-coloured bows restraining his wayward beard. He was clutching a small vial in one hand.

"Good evening, Severus," he smiled, though the remark was lacking its usual jovial quality.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Severus replied warily. "May I ask what you have there?"

"Some things must remain sacred in this place, Severus." Unperturbed by this response, Severus craned his neck to try and get a glimpse of the liquid inside the glass tube. From what he saw, it was brilliantly clear viscous substance with the slightest hint of red suspended in the centre.

"Is that arboralis adamenta venom? Where in Merlin's name did you find that? Why do you have it in the first place? And why do you have it here?"

Worn down by Severus's incessant questioning, Albus reluctantly explained Filius' bet. Far from the sarcastic comments that Albus was expecting, Severus looked grim. He unceremoniously snatched the vial away from Albus' hands and moved towards the door.

"I will not have precious venoms used up as jokes by randy old men."

This entire conversation appears to have been overheard by Mr. Malfoy, who, as you have found, seems to have bet Mr. Zabini that he could poison a teacher, perhaps not fully understanding the nature of the venom.

It seems that Mr. Zabini felt unable to pull off this feat alone, so he enlisted the help of Dobby the House Elf under the guise of Mr. Longbottom. Frankly, Dobby should have known better.

Dobby then, under Mr. Zabini's instruction, laced Professor McGonagall's dinner with the venom, but used too much. She, not feeling hungry after the disastrous Potions lesson which caused the de-aging mishap, allowed a starving Professor Snape to eat her meal.

"That is the wildest, most ridiculous story I have ever heard." Professor McGonagall's voice sounded from behind the Headmaster. "And I think it is time that you three were heading to bed," she said, looking pointedly at the three young Gryffindors. They trooped slowly out of the Great Hall, abandoning the mugs of cocoa that had been almost forced upon them by the Headmaster, and muttering quietly to each other all the way.

"That was a very stupid idea, Albus."

"The teacher swap or the bet?"

"Both," she smiled. "Although, if I must admit, I think the bet was rather sweet."

"Oh, really?" Albus wiggled his eyebrows comically.

"You could have just told me, you know."

"Yes, but where's the fun in that?" he laughed. The two sat in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying each other's company and the warmth of the Hall, until the Transfiguration Professor broke the silence.

"No more of your stupid ideas, alright?" Minerva implored. Albus grinned back at her.

"I am not promising anything."

A/N: I apologise sincerely, because I am aware that this chapter is definitely not the best, but I just felt like this story had gone unfinished for far too long. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the story as a whole!