adventdrabbles | Dec 05, Harry Potter, Hogwarts Staff, "Yippee Ki Yay"

Title: Yippee Ki Yay
Author:

kelly_chambliss
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters:: McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Pince, Hooch, Hagrid
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 500 (according to AO3)
Prompt: Christmas blackout

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Accio mince tart!" cried Filius Flitwick, flourishing his wand toward the treat-laden sideboard.

The tarts remained stubbornly on their platter.

"Accio" mince tart!!" he shouted, waving more energetically.

Nothing.

"ACCIO --" screamed Flitwick, but Minerva interrupted him.

"Stop it, Filius," she snapped. "You're embarrassing yourself. Your magic isn't going to work. It's obvious what's happened here."

"Not obvious to me," Madam Hooch muttered, staring gloomily into her stein of spiced mead. "All I know is that I came to this staff yule party, ready to enjoy myself, and now suddenly it's Magic Blackout City."

"Nothing sudden about it, I'm afraid," said Pomona Sprout the depths of from her cosy armchair. "You've had five glasses of mead, Rolanda -- not that I'm counting -- "

"I'm certainly not," said Hooch under her breath.

" -- and Filius has had almost three, which is more than enough, given his height, while Irma, correct me if I'm wrong, you've had -- "

"Just what are you on about, Pomona?" Hooch demanded. "Are you saying that the mead took our magic away? That's ridiculous."

"That's exactly what she's saying, and it's not ridiculous at all." Minerva folded her arms with great finality. "It's ateralis root, isn't it?"

Sprout nodded. "I suspect so. I thought I smelled star anise when Hagrid brought in the cauldron of mead. But it could have been ateralis. It's really rare this time of year, though, so I never thought. . ."

"Well, rare or not, in large enough quantities, it can block one's magic," Minerva said. "I wonder how it came to be in the mead?" She looked pointedly at Hagrid, who grinned sheepishly.

"I mebbe keep a stash of dried ateralis? Fer the liquorice taste? I dint know it would do any harm; it doesn't me. I'm too big, I s'pose. Sorry, all."

"What??? Are you saying we've lost our magic?" wailed Hooch, and Irma Pince dropped into a nearby chair with a groan.

"Just temporarily," Pomona assured them. "As soon as the mead moves out of your system, you'll be back to normal."

"So all I have to do is pee a lot? Great." Hooch grimaced. "So much for yuletide cheer. The evening's ruined."

"Nonsense." Minerva waved her wand. A large bottle of firewhisky floated over to her, and tumblers appeared in everyone's hands.

"Mead is not the only drink available, you know," she said, pouring generous measures into all the glasses. "If you'd sensibly started the evening with a good firewhisky, you could have achieved your blackout in the natural way by now."

"You mean drinking ourselves into oblivion?" asked Flitwick.

"Precisely." Minerva took a judicious sip of her Ogden's 25-year. "Not that I would ever misuse premium spirits in that way, but not everyone reveres single malt as I do."

"Too right we don't," said Hooch. She downed her whisky, poured more, and tucked the bottle into her robes before taking another gulp and sighing in pleasure.

"Ahhhh. Happy Blackout, dears. What is it the Americans say at Christmas? Oh, right. Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers."