23. The Toad's Downfall.

Snape struggled to keep hold of Dumbledore as the latter staggered dangerously when they apparated just outside of Hogwarts grounds. The guards at the gates turned around and immediately made their way towards them, lighting their wands to see better in the darkness. Snape cursed under his breath and strengthened his grip on the Headmaster, lifting him back into an upright position.

"Well, well, well," one of the guards said. "Dumbledore's back."

"Well noticed," Snape snapped.

"Dumbledore?" Another voice asked, and Snape felt a sudden and unexpected surge of relief when Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped into the wand-light. "Snape?" He added, sounding more surprised. "What happened?"

"Long story," Snape replied, not bothering with his usual insults. "I need to get in."

The other guard snorted. "You're kidding, right? No one is to go into the castle without previous authorisation from the Minister or Headmistress Umbridge. Especially not him," he added, jerking his head at Dumbledore.

Snape drew himself up to his full height. "You seem to be forgetting that I am Hogwarts' Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. I have the right to enter the castle and I'm taking the Headmaster with me."

"Former Headmaster Dumbledore has no right to be here."

"Come on, Charles," Shaklebolt interjected, "can't you see that the Headmaster is ill?"

"Well… obviously, it's a trick."

"To do what?" Snape asked, losing patience. He could feel Dumbledore losing what precious little strength he had left. "Stage a coup with the House Elves? Start a Ghost Mutiny? Hogwarts," he sneered, "is a school."

"Exactly."

Snape sighed through his nose. "Shacklebolt, you know what to do."

Shacklebolt nodded once and fired a stunning spell at his colleague before he even had a chance to blink. The man dropped down to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Shacklebolt sighed. "I never liked him. So suspicious of everything."

"Help me with him," Snape ordered.

Shacklebolt immediately came to Snape's side and lifted Dumbledore's other arm around his shoulders, taking half the weight of the nearly unconscious man. Together they made it as fast as they could towards the school, looking out for anymore of Umbridge's lackeys.

"What happened to him?" Shacklebolt asked.

"Dark magic," Snape said shortly. "This way," he added, jerking the other two wizards off their previous course towards the main doors. "The staff entrance to the dungeons," he added at Shacklebolt's confused protests.

"Doesn't he need the Hospital Wing?"

"The potion he needs is not in the Hospital Wing," Snape explained. "And it is better that no students see the Headmaster in this condition. They might think I've finally killed him."

Shacklebolt seemed unable to help the snort that escaped him. "A sense of humour? That was unexpected."

Snape shouldered open the staff entrance to the dungeons and together they managed to guide Dumbledore into a disused Potions classroom, lowering him gently into a chair near the front of the room. The old wizard groaned, his head lolling, and blinked.

"Where…"

"Shacklebolt, you deal with this. I'll get the potion." Without waiting for confirmation, Snape swept out of the room and into the Potions storeroom. He swiftly undid the wards he had placed around it (he didn't want another repeat of the Polyjuice Potion Incident, thank you very much) and located the potion that should – he sincerely hoped – cure the Headmaster.

He walked back into the classroom, his heart thumping. If this didn't work, he may end up killing the world's greatest wizard and their only hope of defeating the Dark Lord.

"Here," he said tersely, all but shoving the bottle down the poisoned wizard's throat in his nervousness. Not that he would admit to being nervous. Not at all.

Snape swallowed and watched as Dumbledore turned his head away.

"It hurts."

"This isn't the same potion," Snape reassured, bringing Dumbledore's head back to the bottle. "This will stop the pain. It will heal you."

"I can't…"

"Shacklebolt, hold his head still."

Shacklebolt looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me," Snape said urgently. "Hold his head still. He needs this potion, and I don't have enough hands to feed it to him and stop him from trying to escape it."

Shacklebolt hesitantly held Dumbledore's head still. The white-haired wizard shook and babbled as Snape moved the bottle closer. He closed his eyes, tears leaking out from underneath the lids, and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "no more". As before, Snape forced himself to ignore the pleas and forced half the bottle down the man's throat.

He nodded to Shacklebolt and both men stood back, giving Dumbledore room to breathe as he coughed and spluttered. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dumbledore looked up and gave Snape a weak smile.

"You couldn't make a mint flavoured one?"

Snape scowled. "The main aim of the potion is that it heals quickly, not that it be flavoured."

"Yes, of course." Dumbledore looked around him, breathing slightly heavily but rapidly regaining his strength. "Ah, the dungeons. And Kingsley!"

Dumbledore got to his feet slightly unsteadily, but managed to keep his balance and started shaking a very bemused but relieved Shacklebolt's hand.

"What happened, exactly?" Shacklebolt asked again.

Dumbledore started brushing his robes down. "The war against Voldemort is starting," he replied bluntly. "I got on the wrong side of one of his defences."

"It's started already? I thought the prison-break was the end of it. Nobody sent me a message saying otherwise."

"Ah… yes," Dumbledore said. "A slight oversight. You see, things got very busy and complicated when I visited one of the freed captives." He waved his hand. "All that you must know is that we are preparing to confront Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the 20th."

Shacklebolt looked openly shocked. "But that's in two days!"

"You need to gather everyone from the Ministry that you think may be willing to help," Dumbledore continued. "I have already gathered who I can from the Order, its connections and Hogwarts."

Shacklebolt nodded grimly. "I'll go and do that now." He gave Dumbledore a quick once-over, apparently to see if the older wizard had recovered, before turning on his heel and hurrying out of the door.

"Now," Dumbledore said, "Horcruxes."

Snape followed him as he ran out of the room at a truly surprising speed for one so old and recently poisoned.

"I remember seeing the diadem," Dumbledore said, "in the-" he suddenly screeched to a halt and Snape almost ran straight into the back of him. "Did you destroy the locket?"

"Yes. You may remember we had to outrun the fire I started."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Good." He started running again.

Fortunately, it was the dead of night and the corridors were completely deserted, the students having long ago gone to bed. Dumbledore pounded through the corridors and finally stopped in the middle of an empty one, walking back and forth before a tapestry.

"The Room of Requirement?" Snape asked. "There's a Horcrux in the Room of Requirement?"

Dumbledore nodded. "An ideal place, I should think. It is buried by decades and decades of discarded rubbish. Nobody would look at it twice."

The door appeared and they hurried inside. There were shelves upon shelves of discarded objects inside; gathering dust, mould, spiders. Some of them were chipped, others ripped and torn, clearly unloved. Others were schoolboy treasures that had been long lost: a box of magic tricks that had probably been banned by Filch at some point, a few pieces of jewellery (likely stolen) and fireworks were among these lost treasures. But the one thing he couldn't see was a suspiciously Horcrux-like diadem.

Dumbledore walked slowly down each aisle, inspected them meticulously, and moved onto the next. "It's definitely here somewhere," he murmured.

Snape scoured the room, eyes narrowed, unable to help thinking that this was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Suddenly, Dumbledore let out a small "aha" sound and started climbing a shelf. Snape stared as Dumbledore jumped back to the floor, carrying the diadem wrapped in part of his beard to protect it from his touch.

The Potions Master cleared his throat. "Headmaster, it would seem that I gave you too much antidote."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Nonsense. I'm in perfect health. Now, do you want to set fire to this one or should we go and find the sword?"

Snape looked at him blankly.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, "quite right. It would be extremely unfair to burn all of these lost treasures in the process. To my office then."

"The Sword of Gryffindor?" Snape asked.

"Yes – it is infused with basilisk venom."

Snape strode after Dumbledore, who was speed walking in the direction of his old office.

"Umbridge was unable to get in, but she wanted to make sure that she knew if anyone else tried. She has spells around your office," he pointed out. "She will know when you deactivate them."

Dumbledore looked at him askance. "Why did you help her activate them?"

Snape's lips twitched. "I set a rather interesting alarm and circulated the news among Slytherin House. They had considerable fun trying to break into your office. Unfortunately, I was then... unable to disable my own wards, so Umbridge has had to put up with its effects."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "How positively job-endangering."

They reached the Gargoyle staircase and Dumbledore inclined his head. "You have the key, I believe."

Snape, despite the situation, felt gleeful as he flicked his wand and sent the protective charms around the office crashing down. They hurried into the office, which was much the same as the Headmaster had left it when he had been driven out of the castle.

The portraits all jerked awake at the unexpected intrusion and yelled out Dumbledore's name gleefully, breaking out into chatter among themselves. Some started regaling him with tales of Umbridge that had spread around the castle, making obscene hand gestures as they did so. Dumbledore gave them all a brief wave before heading over to the cabinet where the Sword of Gryffindor was perched.

He then proceeded to unravel the diadem from his beard and placed it precariously on top of a frighteningly large stack of paperwork that he had never managed to finish before leaving. Just as he was raising the sword over his head, however, there were thumping footsteps, and someone appeared at the door.

They were short, rotund, and dressed in a pink nightdress that was unfortunately slightly more see through than the general population would have desired. Their hair was in curlers, bunched so tightly on the top of their head that their face was pulled taught, as though they had recently discovered the Muggle practice of plastic surgery.

But the most noticeable feature was the face itself, which had somehow turned brown and was covered in darker brown splotches, almost like grotesque freckles. The nose had shrunken into the skull until only two Voldemort-esque slits remained, flaring in and out, in and out in rapid rage. The ears had also disappeared, leaving smooth, oily looking skin in its place. Last, but by no means least, were the eyes; they popped out of the skull and sat above the non-existent nose like surprised tennis balls, blinking at them rapidly, clearly shocked. The eyes were watering slightly.

Dumbledore, shocked, actually paused before destroying the Horcrux. "Merlin's beard."

Umbridge growled at him. "You!" She shrieked. "What are you doing here?"

Dumbledore blinked innocently at her. "Staging a coup?" He turned to Snape. "Excellent work with the wards, Severus."

Snape inclined his head in a mini-bow. "I do my best."

Umbridge withdrew her wand. "Stop!"

Snape snorted. "Or what? There is a reason that you made me do these wards for you, Dolores. That glorified liquorice wand of yours can barely levitate a feather." He studied it for a moment as Umbridge thrust it in his face. "Admittedly, the power of a wand is probably limited if you give it as many coats of pink paint as you appear to have done."

"You," she hissed, quivering like a jelly, "are fired."

Snape simply smirked at her.

"I'm sorry, Dolores," Dumbledore said, not sounding sorry at all, "but we are rather in the middle of something. Perhaps you could reschedule your-"

"The Minister is on his way!" Umbridge interrupted shrilly.

"I have no doubt," Dumbledore said. "Very well, I shall just have to finish the job before he gets here."

And with that, he brought the sword down on the diadem, which immediately began wailing in pain. A shadow of a man emerged from the shattered diadem and started scrabbling in the air, as though being torn inside out by something unseen. At the other end of the room, Umbridge shrieked in shock.

"What is that?" She demanded, backing away to the door. "What have you done?"

Snape took the opportunity of her shock and snatched her wand from her. He quickly threw it to the floor in disgust – it would never do to be seen carrying a pink wand, not with his reputation. He had spent years building that up. As Umbridge gulped her mouth open and shut in shock, Snape tied her up and immobilised her with a simple wordless spell.

Behind him, the shrieking died down.

Dumbledore made a satisfied sound. "Onto the next, then, Severus."

Blithely waving goodbye to the portraits – who were cheering – Dumbledore stepped over Umbridge without giving her a second thought and walked down the staircase. Snape paused for a moment and found himself wishing for a Muggle camera.

Umbridge, a toad's head perched on top of a short, fat, pink body, the curlers in her somehow still present hair pulling her features back and making her eyes even more bug-eyed than they would normally be, lay still on the floor, her mouth still gaping open in shock.