24. Tick Tock Goes the Clock.

Snape scowled, entirely unhappy with the situation. Dumbledore seemed to be trying very hard to keep an innocent expression, but the twinkling in his eyes gave him away.

After the incident with Umbridge and the successful destruction of the locket, they had quickly returned to Grimmauld Place to check on war preparations. What they had found had been startling; the Weasley twins had taken over the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and were wreaking havoc, apparently making bombs. Though at first Snape had doubted their explanation (naturally untrustworthy, given the source), a quick examination of the area had proven that they were, indeed, making bombs using laughing gas and anaesthetic.

It certainly did explain why Kreacher had been laughing uncontrollably in the corner, he had to admit.

After pausing for long enough for Dumbledore to give the twins a few tips and correct their technique, they had gone upstairs to make an inventory of the make-shift hospital wing that would serve for any casualties. Madame Pomfrey had given Snape a list of things needed, and he had managed to rustle up the necessary supplies after quickly apparating back to Hogwarts. At the same time, he had told the nurses still on duty in the Hospital Wing to be on alert in case the battle somehow moved to the school – and knowing Voldemort, it very well could.

Hearing yelling voices from one of the bedrooms (Sirius Black's, apparently), Snape had deduced that Potter had indeed been informed of his current… status. And, from the stomping of feet on stairs and slamming of doors, was not taking it at all well. Snape wondered what his reaction would be if he learned that he, the much loved Potions Master, would be the one to remove the Horcrux.

In the living room, Lupin had apparently been coerced into trying to teach the Doctor magic, without success. The look on both men's faces had been one of disappointment and frustration, as the Doctor had been unable to perform even the simplest of spells, and the wand had not reacted to him at all. When Dumbledore saw this, he had frowned, and offered the Doctor his wand to see if that yielded better results.

The Doctor had seemed bowled over – something which had confused everybody else present – and had accepted it as though he was being given an ancient object that could fall apart at any moment. He had given it an enthusiastic swish – nothing. Pointed it at a book lying on the table – nothing. Not even the slightest flicker of magic.

The Doctor had handed it back to Dumbledore, a look of extreme disappointment on his face. "Well," he had murmured. "That's that, then. If that wand doesn't work, none will."

Dumbledore had looked at the Doctor with a piercing gaze that Snape had come to recognise as him lightly skimming the surface of someone's mind. The Doctor had stiffened, face immediately losing all colour, and Dumbledore had blinked, inclining his head regretfully.

"I'm sorry."

The Doctor had shaken his head. "But I'm a Time Lord! I can't be a Muggle – that's just rubbish!"

But there had been more pressing things at hand, and Dumbledore had motioned for Snape to follow him out of the room, where they had begun formulating a plan for the last Horcrux – besides Harry – that they could tackle before the big confrontation. The plan had taken several hours to finalise and rehearse, and by the time they were ready, it was time to put it into action.

There had just been one final thing to decide, and it had gone to a coin toss. Which, of course, Snape had lost. Which led him to his current, absolute dissatisfaction with the situation.

He swished angrily down the stairs and glared at the Headmaster, who had changed his appearance to a non-descript, middle aged man. He could have been anybody. Which was, of course, the point.

"Why," Snape spat, his voice sounding ridiculously high (though pleasingly deadly) to his ears, "do you always have to win those things?"

"Because I'm the Headmaster," Dumbledore replied, "and an old man. Once you reach a certain age, Severus, it is your privilege to embarrass the younger generation. Now, I do believe you are forgetting something."

He held out a pair of black high heels.

"Never."

"Severus, you know as well as I do that this will only work if it looks authentic, and you know that she wears these."

"It's already bad enough that I have to pretend to be Bellatrix Lestrange," Snape snarled, "but to dress like her is just…"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, lips twitching. "I'm having trouble describing it too. Put them on."

Snape sat on the last step of the stairs and grudgingly crammed his feet into the uncomfortable shoes.

Dumbledore coughed, averting his gaze. "Severus, as a gentleman I must politely ask you to close your legs."

Snape quickly did so, his knees knocking painfully together in his haste and, to his absolute horror, felt his cheeks start to burn red in embarrassment and anger. He got angrily to his feet, tottering on the heels, blinded by the hair falling into his face, and said, in a high, angry voice, "Let's get this over with."

oOo

The Doctor sat on the sofa in the lounge where he had been practicing magic with Lupin. Well, he said practicing, what he actually meant was "screwing up his face and willing something to come out the end of the wand". But there hadn't been a single drop of magic. Not even a random bouquet of flowers sticking out the end. He'd even tried turning the wand to liquorice, but there was no luck there either.

And then Dumbledore had completely flummoxed him by handing him his wand – the Elder wand. The Doctor had taken it, wary of somehow accidentally breaking it. A tiny part of him had thought that the only reason Dumbledore had let him use the wand in the first place was that he had known that it wouldn't work. Which, of course, was exactly what had happened.

So here he was; the Doctor, The Oncoming Storm, one of the most feared and important beings in the universe… A Muggle. Brilliant. That really was just his luck. He was dragged into an unknown universe, imprisoned in questionable comfort for half a year, let out and was busy preparing for a battle, and he couldn't even do magic. After all that, all he had been through, and he was a Muggle.

It does explain why you never noticed magic the last time around, though. Remember You-Know-Who mentioned that monk with the Angel problem you fixed?

Ah, yes. Poor Augustus. But much as he was glad he finally understood how he had missed magic during that particular escapade, he was still very much not happy.

He crossed his arms and only barely stopped himself from pouting like a child.

He could have learnt so much! The Potions, the Transfiguration, the Charms… He could have been an Animagus! Rassilon, that would have been amazing. Introducing the Doctor: Animagus Extraordinaire! He would have loved to have seen the Daleks' faces when he transformed into an animal in front of them.

Not that he would be able to in his own universe. But that didn't matter much, did it, because Daleks didn't even have faces, so his enjoyment would have been limited anyway. Though he was pretty sure that hearing the Daleks screeching about exterminating a nice fluffy rabbit would have been fairly entertaining in itself. Or cat. He wasn't really sure what his Animagus form would have been, but he knew one thing for sure.

And that, the Doctor thought, nodding his head to no one in particular, was that he would never have been a goldfish. How rubbish would that have been? You'd have to carry a bowl full of water around for a start.

Getting a bit off-track here, aren't you?

Off-track, that's me. Just call me Mr Off-Piste. Actually no, forget that, that's a rubbish nickname.

You do realise you're a Muggle, right?

Wake up at the back there.

Yes, but my point is that the battle won't be.

The Doctor sat bolt upright. Ah. Oh ho. That was bad.

There was a sudden flash of light, a slight breeze ruffled the Doctor's hair, and he jerked out of his mind-conversation in shock, mouth gaping open comically. A quick glance at the clock on the mantelpiece showed that he had been sitting there for the entire morning without moving.

He frowned. How had that happened?

The Doctor levered himself to his feet and went over to the window to close it, not wanting the living room to be ruined by the thunder storm that seemed to have developed while he had been distracted. Except, when he got to the window, the weather outside was decidedly un-thunderstorm like.

"What?" He murmured, not liking this at all.

"Over here, Sweetie," a voice from behind him said.

The Doctor spun around too fast, felt his legs give way, and found himself with a face full of carpet. Now there was a carpet that needed a good hovering. Running footsteps, hands around his shoulders, and he was turned over to stare up into River's concerned face. He batted her curls lazily with one hand.

"You look like a Weeping Willow from this angle," he told her.

"I think you mean Weeping Willow," River told him, feeling his forehead.

"That's what I said."

"No it isn't, you said 'Angel'."

The Doctor pondered that for a moment. Then he looked back to River. "What took you so long?"

"You told me to."

The Doctor pushed himself up into a sitting position, still staring at her. "No I didn't."

"Yes you did. Or you will."

He sighed. "Not the time for timey-wimey-ness. Did you find it?"

River nodded. "Yes – it's in my backpack. Where's Harry?"

"Upstairs – Ron and Hermione are talking to him. But Snape hasn't come back yet. Actually, I'm not sure if he has," he corrected himself. "The last thing I remember was them going off to the bank in other people's bodies, and then it was all fluffy Daleks and rabbits."

He blinked as River just stared at him. "Yes, you're right, that sounds completely stupid. We both know I meant fluffy rabbits and Daleks."

River sighed and wordlessly helped the Doctor back to his seat. "I'm just going to see who's here and who isn't. Where did you say Snape had gone?"

"To the bank with Dumbledore – you remember the Horcruxes."

"Yes," River said, "of course. What you said makes more sense now. When will they be back?"

"I don't know," the Doctor replied, screwing his face up comically as he tried to work it out. "Depends how long it takes Snape to outrun a dragon while wearing stilettos, I suppose."

River nodded dubiously. "I see. Stay here, Doctor. I'll be right back."

"Stilettos," the Doctor said, rolling the word around in his mouth. "I suppose. Does that rhyme? River, what do you…" He trailed off, looking around an empty room.

Ok, don't panic. This happens all the time.

"It does?"

Well, if it did, would you remember it? That's the problem with short term memory loss. Or maybe you just weren't paying attention.

The Doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the heat that he could feel beneath his fingers.