The Colossal Cocoa Caper
by rogueinker
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. No infringement is intended or contemplated, ever.
Summary: Disaster has affected Dumbledore's supply of cocoa. No cocoa means no hot chocolate leading to one grumpy headmaster. He comes up with a plan that embroils all at Hogwarts and just may put his relationship with Minerva back on track.
Genre: Dry Off Kilter Humor (I try and hope and keep trying.).
The house elves were not happy. They milled about the main kitchen looking more dejected than usual. Many could be seen wringing their hands together and sighing deeply. Whenever one entered the main kitchen, their eyes were drawn to a small purple ceramic bell suspended on a wall. Below the bell was a small plaque that read "AD Hot Cocoa."
On any normal day, the house elves coveted the chance to be of some service to the headmaster. The more fervent among them spent the majority of their time loitering in the main kitchens on the off chance that the bell would ring while they were present. But today was not a normal day. In fact it was so abnormal that the house elves did all they could to avoid lingering in the main kitchens. As soon as their task was done, their little feet would beat a hasty retreat to the exit.
A group of elves huddled by the pantry as the head kitchen steward, Auchincloss, took inventory of a vital supply item - genuine criollo cacao beans from a family-owned farm in Ecuador. Criollo was the rarest of cocoa plants raised by less than fifteen percent of all cocoa growers in the world. Like wine, cocoa had a distinct flavor depending on the area of its growth. This was the headmaster's favorite variety due to its deep, rich taste and soothing natural aroma.
Auchincloss shook his head. He told the others that there was only enough for seven more cups of hot cocoa. A collective shudder ricocheted from one to another among those gathered. They all knew that amount would only last at the most three days, barely. Dumbledore lived, loved and dreamt of hot cocoa. The more stress he was under the more cocoa he required. The last few days had been very stressful and there was no indication that things would be getting easier anytime soon.
Hogwarts' monthly shipment had yet to arrive. It usually arrived well before now.
Auchincloss made an executive decision. He would tell the headmaster about the cocoa situation. Because of that situation, the headmaster and staff had to reduce their intake. It was quite a logical and eminently practical decision. However, such news would not be received in a positive light and well he knew it. The headmaster paid handsomely for this culinary luxury out his own pocket. Said cocoa was delivered via muggle airplane all the way from Ecuador to Heathrow. Then a courier delivered the package to a London domicile maintained for this one specific purpose. A wizard caretaker was paid an exorbitant amount of money to house sit and wait for the package. The package was then owled to Hogwarts. Dumbledore naturally had first right to the cocoa and after that came the faculty and staff. Anything preventing that right from being exercised was not good news.
They had seen the headmaster angry at them only once. Once was more than enough. An elf had deviated from the traditional recipe by mistakenly using a half less teaspoon of cocoa in his cup. The result was deemed so horrific that the offending elf had been permanently placed on probation. He and only he had the responsibility for making the headmaster's cocoa for an entire month. At the end of the month, the poor elf was a mass of nervous tics, stammers and jerky nervous movements. The pressure day after day had been too much for the poor thing. At last report, Uby the Unfortunate, was still ensconsced in the magical creatures ward at St. Mungo's. The mere sight of a mug or cup would send Uby into incoherent hysterics.
All morning Auchincloss had been motivating himself to go to the headmaster. It was now mid afternoon and he had yet to leave the kitchens. By all reports, the headmaster was in a good mood. Auchincloss made his way to the exit. Thinking that he may not be able to return ever again from the headmaster's office, he turned around and looked wistfully at the place. He stored the images in his memory. He sighed and was about to leave when an owl flew in and dropped a small parcel covered with muggle post stamps. Heartfelt cheers came from the throats of over thirty elves.
The headmaster's cocoa had arrived at last!
With trembling hands and an enormous grin of relief, Auchincloss opened the package. He began to lift out each large individual bag. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. There were only seven when there should have been ten! He counted and recounted three times. He turned the box upside down and shook it with all the strenght he possessed. A small piece of paper floated lazily down to the table. Auchincloss read the note and promptly fainted.
Dobby picked up the note and began to read out loud:
Mr. Dumbledore,
I truly regret to inform you that this is the last order from Doolittle - Corteza Cacao de Ecuador. The farm will be liquidating all assets due to a sudden plague slowly crippling our native criollo plants. This plague has been reported in all the cocoa growing regions of the world this past year. A cure has yet to be found so with deep regret we are dismantling our operations.
We thank you for your long and loyal patronage and, of course, the gracious and extravagant Christmas presents.
Sincerely,
Eliza D. Cortez.
Not a sound. Not a movement. The elves stood frozen in shock. A few elves kept counting and recounting the bags as if by doing so the missing three would magically appear. Several elves fanned the air around their fallen steward.
Ding! Ding! Dong! As one they all turned at the sound. It was the dreaded bell. Albus Dumbledore wanted his tea time sugar fix.
The kitchen emptied fast. Elves tripped over themselves trying to get out first chittering about errands left undone or relatives that needed visiting immediately. After a few minutes only Dobby and the still unconscious Auchincloss remained.
What to do? Someone had to get the cocoa AND tell Dumbledore the latest news. What to do? What to do?
At precisely 4:17 pm on a Tuesday, a day and time that students would later dub as "The Day the Headmaster Lost It", several strange things happened in eerie sequence. Every fireplace in the castle erupted in purple flames followed by all the windows rattling ominously. Professors Snape and McGonagall as well as every other teacher said the same things: "No questions! Get under your desks now! Protect yourselves as best you can! Whatever happens hold on!" The teachers did not wait to see if their commands had been obeyed. They were too busy hiding themselves while invoking shield charms on their person and anything fragile or valuable in their vicinity. Hogwarts students were many things but none lacked the innate instinct of survival. They dove under their desks and none too soon.
The sound of wind began to be audible in the castle soft but insistent like steam escaping from a simmering teapot. The sound grew in intensity until the wind racing through the corridors reached hurricane strength. Windows blew outward. Pictures dropped and flew about. Their occupants clung tightly to their frames. Ghosts, objects, small animals, books, parchment, anything not tied down were blown everywhere in and out of the castle. House elves who had not fled at seeing the kitchen fires erupt purple tied themselves together and held on for dear life. Even the trees in the Forbidden Forest swayed under the onslaught of Albus Dumbledore's full wrath finally unleashed.
After an eternity but actually only ten minutes in real time, the tempest subsided. Anything that had blown out, blew back in again but not necessarily returning to their original positions or owners. Professor McGonagall was the first to gain her wits. She summoned Professor Snape through the fireplace. His unmistakeable visage appeared in the flames.
"What the hell did you do, Snape?!" The students, all Gryffindors as it happened, gaped at this rare display of vulgarity coming from their head of house. They were transfixed upon the drama playing out before them.
"This has nothing to do with me! I suggest you check your own conduct first." Snape replied calmly.
"Albus would never lose his temper like that over ... over a -. Don't you dare insinuate that -"
"Every man has his limits, Minerva, even Albus. You on the other hand -"
"You ... you ... unscrupulous, dastardly cad!" McGonagall lost control of her temper right then and there. A small vase on her desk splintered then exploded as her anger manifested itself. "Look what you made me do!"
"At least you managed some honest emotion that time." Snape smirked.
"Too far, Snape! Quidditch pitch tonight. Bring your second."
Before Snape could reply to this challenge, the headmaster's serious voice boomed out over the entire castle. "All heads of houses to my office. No exceptions, no excuses, no notes from Poppy. You have three minutes starting now." The sound of a clock ticking echoed in the background.
The head of Gryffindor yelled "Class dismissed" then "Accio, broom." Ron and Harry gaped as Professor McGonagall's top-of- the-line, limited edition Nimbus Cyclone custom racing broom hovered in front of her. The broom handle sported her name in glowing gold lettering followed by the serial number '#1 of 1'. Figuratively throwing personal decorum to the wind, McGonagall hiked up her robe and skirt then mounted her broom. She raced off in a blur, robes and arms akimbo.
"Merlin's innards! Where did she get the money to buy one of those things?" Ron exclaimed.
Hermione surveyed the wrecked classroom. "Something's made Dumbledore mad. This is really serious."
Harry bit his lower lip thinking of all he had witnessed. "Ron, you think she'd let us have a test ride?"
When Minerva landed smoothly in front of the headmaster's desk. She could see no one else about. She dismounted and put herself to rights.
"One minute and twenty seconds, my dear, I think that's your personal best so far." Albus looked at her from behind his massive desk.
"Don't you mean the new record, Albus?" Minerva preened. "Beats MY old record by ten seconds."
A darkly familiar voice intoned from behind her. "True, Minerva, but I had an elapsed time of exactly sixty seconds which gives me the new record. Thank you very much."
Minerva whirled to face Snape. She fairly snarled back at him. "How ... how did you get here before me?"
"Why bother asking when you know you won't like the answer whatever it may be." Snape retorted. He ignored the truly livid Gryffindor. He positioned a chair for himself and sat down.
Minerva glared menacingly back at him then took her usual seat closest to Dumbledore's desk. She studiously ignored Snape who kept his attentions focused on his tea.
Flitwick arrived zooming through the air on a comfortable leather chair before alighting gently in front of Albus' desk. "Time?"
"One minute and fifty seconds, Filius."
"Well, that last modification shaved quite a few seconds. Perhaps a more streamlined profile would be ideal. Prone position maybe."
"Is the charm on the chair or on yourself?"
"Both, Albus. It's a new spell combining Locomotor and Wingardium Leviosa."
Professor Sprout glided in last. Under her feet, she stood on a narrow strip of wood that hovered inches from the floor. One could not call it a plank per se. It was curved and were those small wheels underneath?
"Two minutes and fifteen seconds exactly, Cera." Dumbledore said.
"My best time yet. I wasn't even rushing." Sprout smiled.
Flitwick looked curiously at her conveyance. "What is that contraption?"
Sprout hefted the small beam she had been using. "One of my muggle borns showed me a picture of one of these. It's a skateboard. I just adapted it by adding a few vital charms, a pressure sensitive steering mechanism, automatic brakes and a throttle."
"Really!" Excitement caused Flitwick's voice to ascend an octave higher. "What's the speed range?"
"Theoretically, it's limited only by the tolerance of the rider. I've reached about 50 kilometers per hour." Sprout positioned a chair next to Flitwick. "I'm tweaking the brakes yet."
Dumbledore walked to his desk and cleared his throat rather dramatically. Everyone sat up and put on their game faces. "I have an emergency situation on my hands which could have ... has catastrophic consequences. I am asking and requiring help from all of you."
"Of course, Albus, you need only ask." Minerva focused all her thoughts on Albus. He looks so drawn and tired. Whatever it is, it's bad. Her feud with Snape was put aside but not forgotten. I will deal with Severus later. Albus comes first.
"We are at your disposal as always." Flitwick piped up. He looks like death warmed over. I hope I get a raise out of this. At least a nice bonus for my years of devoted service and all. He took a sip of his coffee - black, extra strong.
"What is the problem exactly?" Snape asked coolly. This is it. Voldemort is going down. Time to shine, boy. Mental note to order new dress robes off-black or dark gray with glittery silver trim down the sides.
"What do we have to do?" Sprout added. He looks more worried than when the dementors were here. What could be worse than dementors? I hope he doesn't ramble on endlessly. Minerva may worship his every breath but I don't.
His eyes were missing their twinkle and they could almost swear his beard looked droopy. His earlier tantrum had bled all the anger out leaving him calmer if somewhat moody. He wailed, "My cocoa supply is being cut off! I only have a month's supply left!"
The enormity of the matter was not lost on any of them. No one messed around with Albus' hot cocoa. It was rule number one in the new employee's manual right before "Thou shalt graciously ingest and sincerely compliment any offerings made by the headmaster, especially his hot chocolate."
"The Ministry is cutting it off?!" Minerva asked. "How could they? It's not even in the budget."
"I wish it were that simple. A world plague is decimating the cocoa plant varieties - especially the rare ecuadoran criollo cacao. My favorite." Albus sniffed. "It's the very, very best."
"Has a cure been found? Muggle plant genetics and research is quite advanced and -"
"The muggles don't care. They've known about this problem for a year and done nothing."
"Considering that almost half of cacao is raised in poor countries while almost all cocoa is consumed in more affluent countries, I would think that this would be a high priority." Flitwick thought out loud.
"I've done some preliminary research. They have cacao plants raised in controlled environments now. Chocolate farms they call them. They don't give a fig about those grown in the wild or in third world countries."
"Well, then, you can still get cocoa from Europe or America, Albus." Sprout suggested.
"Philistine!" Albus glowered at the head of Hufflepuff. "No appreciation for the nuances of climate, light and soil on the bean's true flavor. Domesticated cocoa is a pale imitation of the real thing. I will not live with fake cocoa! Will not. Will not. Will not." Albus banged his fists on his desk.
Something about the headmaster's current behavior brought back some unpleasant memories for all of them. In particular, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout. The three teachers glanced at each other then all turned as one to gaze malevolently at the potions master. Snape stared straight ahead but his mind drifted back to the summer just before the start of his second year of teaching.
He had pulled a prank on the faculty whose consequences reached to this very day. Unbeknownst to him, one of the ingredients he used was too old. The aftereffects were manageable and the open warfare hurt no one but the teachers. The bad ingredient caused the unfortunate to become wildly allergic to cocoa, coffee, nicotine and dairy products for an entire month. Deprived of their monthly chocolate binges the ladies turned into harridans that would have made wild harpies proud. The caffeine and nicotine addicts fared no better. The house elves learned to turn a deaf ear to bribes and life-ending threats from the staff. Short tempers flared and mini-duels were the order of the day.
The worst was Albus. Their dignified headmaster had in short order been reduced to a fidgety, fussy, foul-mouthed two year old. Coupled with his potent magical powers and a pathological cocoa dependency, the result was not pretty. Minerva was the only one brave enough to get near him. After an unusually trying few weeks, Minerva had had to resort to creative means to privately mollify and distract him. Of course the occasion also marked the beginnings of their relationship so Minerva didn't bare too much of a grudge. Albus had not been so forgiving. No one, not Grindelwald and Voldemort combined, had put him through such agony. Snape was punished appropriately. He owed Dumbledore a gigantic favor. That marker had been called when Dumbledore required him to turn spy once more and keep the Order appraised of Voldemort's plans.
Truly, anything done that badly affected the cocoa supply, garnered the harshest of penalties. This was made into a footnote for employee manual rule number one - Thou shalt not mess with the cocoa.
After a minute or two of silence. The headmaster stood up and beamed at his audience. "But I have a PLAN! We are going to raise my plants here. How many seeds will you need, Cera?"
"Albus, theoretically we can raise anything here. However, as you mentioned, flavor is governed much by the growing environment. Planting seeds will result in cocoa no better than the domesticated variety." Sprout explained. "We need a mature plant from which to start the rest from."
"Well then, simple! We get a whole, healthy plant from Ecuador and transplant here."
"Casually breaking several international treaties and customs laws every step of the way." Snape put in. "I might add that if said laws were not so stringent or so strenuously enforced, I would be growing my own ingredients here."
"Must you always be so negative, Severus?"
"I try to be the voice of reason when there is none to be had." Snape replied. There that's stopped him cold.
Dumbledore looked at his colleagues under hooded eyes. Am I not the most powerful wizard around, chief mugwump, headmaster, et cetera and so forth? Even so I will need all their considerable expertise to get what I want. However, the plan WAS slightly illegal. Also it WAS extracurricular activity that none of them was contractually obligated to fulfill as it had no bearing on their teaching duties. How to get their cooperation?
Like any able general, Dumbledore turned the situation to his favor and employed a tried and true tactic. He decide to appeal to their vices and sense of self-interest. Dumbledore looked sorrowful as he addressed them again. "I realize this project is risky and would ask much of all of you in addition to your existing duties. I have no right to demand anything from any of you."
Flitwick breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Merlin he's being reasonable about this.
"However, I have explained that this not a course of action that I can deny or refuse." The mulish look was back upon his face. The twinkle in his eyes were hard as diamond chips. "Therefore those who would aid me will be generously compensated. If it is within my power to grant, it shall be yours. You have my word. Any takers?"
The man has a counter for everything. Snape wasted no time. "Cash. In advance plus expenses. With allocation for future cost overruns. Ingredients will be expensive."
"You're a hard, hard man, Severus, but done."
"Open credit at Flourish and Blotts for one year." said Flitwick. "No restrictions on type, quantity or timing of purchases. No questions asked."
"Done. Credit will be established by the end of today."
"A working muggle television in my quarters. With satellite service and all the BBC channels." Sprout's eyes took on a faraway look. "I may finally see Coronation Street real time. And East Enders. And ... and The Young and the Restless."
"Done with one condition. You post episode summaries in the staff room." Dumbledore turned to look at his deputy. Dumbledore nibbled on his lower lip nervously. This last one will be tricky. If she asks for ... no, she won't. But if she does, what do I do? Cocoa waits for no one. "Minerva, what will be the price of your cooperation?"
Minerva did not miss the uncertainty in his voice or the wording he employed. A recent impasse in their personal life was making both of them miserable, lonely and incredibly frustrated. All their conversations of late were stilted and awkward both parties afraid of saying the wrong thing for the wrong reasons. Hmm, this cocoa fiasco may yet prove to be a blessing in disguise. "I'd like to discuss my price in private, Albus."
This could be interesting. Albus straightened up a bit. "Very well, Minerva. After dinner, perhaps? Maybe start up the chess game again?"
"That would be fine, Albus."
"I thank you all from the bottom of my heart."
"Albus, the Ministry knows nothing about this or the potential use of school property, do they?" Snape asked.
Dumbledore shifted his feet. "This is a strictly private project. The utmost secrecy must be maintained at all times."
"And if anyone starts asking awkward questions?"
Dumbledore smiled beatifically. "We'll be finished before anyone takes any notice. Everything will work out. You'll see."
A/N: Thoughts anyone? The idea for this fic was a vision of Dumbledore hugging a box of hot cocoa in his arms while sleeping. I believe a deadline-defying, self-induced caffeine overdose coupled with an all-nighter setting up servers was the culprit. Too much stress definitely doing things to my mind.