The door to the Headmaster's office burst open, and Madam Pomfrey stormed in like a gust of wind, her nurse's cap tilted to one side, clutching a bulging medical bag.
Trailing behind her, Professor Slughorn huffed and puffed, his round face flushed red, while Professor Flitwick nimbly hopped onto the nearest chair.
"Good heavens!" Madam Pomfrey gasped, catching sight of Dumbledore lying on the bed.
She immediately bent over the bedside, her wand tracing intricate diagnostic runes over Dumbledore's body.
Professor Slughorn shuffled closer, his plump belly nearly brushing Madam Pomfrey's shoulder.
"Let me see, let me see…" he muttered, pulling a crystal vial filled with a purple liquid from his waistcoat pocket.
As Slughorn prepared to drip the purple liquid into Dumbledore's mouth, Snape's voice cut through sharply: "Professor, what is that?"
"Oh, this is my special Vitality Potion," Slughorn replied without looking up. "It can temporarily bolster a patient's life force."
"Using a stimulant before confirming the cause might not be wise," Snape said.
"Ah," Slughorn's hand froze mid-air. He turned his head, saying, "Yes, yes, my apologies, I overlooked that." His mustache twitched as he tucked the vial away. "Severus, come take a look."
Snape stepped to Dumbledore's side, closely studying the Headmaster's face. The silver-white beard had lost its usual luster, and beneath the skin, faint bluish-gray lines snaked like some sinister venom spreading through his veins.
"I suspect it's related to Inferi," Snape said.
"What?" Madam Pomfrey looked up.
"The place we visited should theoretically be teeming with Inferi," Snape said, pointing to the black spots gradually appearing on the back of Dumbledore's hand. "These symptoms remind me of the Inferi Curse described in Moste Potente Potions. It's a dark magic spell cast by dark wizards through mass murder and suffering."
"You've read that book?" Flitwick gasped. "Are you saying Voldemort cursed Albus using the same method as creating Inferi?"
"Not exactly," Snape shook his head. "But I think it might operate on a similar principle. The book describes dark magic that slowly drains the victim's life force, turning them into something caught between life and death."
Madam Pomfrey's wand tip suddenly sparked red. "He's likely right. The Headmaster's life energy is being eroded by some dark force."
"If that's the case…" Slughorn's face grew grave, "conventional treatments may not work." He hesitated, then added, "Unless…"
"Unless what, Horace?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Unless we use unicorn blood," Slughorn said hesitantly, "or some even darker potions."
The office fell into a deathly silence. The faint crackle of the fireplace seemed to echo the shock of the suggestion.
"Absolutely not!" Madam Pomfrey broke the silence first. "That's an utterly barbaric act—to slaughter a pure, helpless creature just to save a life!"
"It wasn't a formal suggestion!" Slughorn muttered. "I'm just saying it would work…"
"The cost is too great," Flitwick said, leaping off the chair and waving his short arms excitedly. "As we all know, the moment unicorn blood touches the lips, the drinker is cursed forever."
"Professor Flitwick is right," Snape nodded. "Even if the Headmaster woke, he'd only have a half-life." He turned to Slughorn. "We must find another way."
"If we can't use powerful potions," Slughorn said, "then we'll have to take it slowly."
"Yes," Snape said, gazing at Dumbledore's serene face. "We could try formulating a compound potion to gradually break down the curse in his body. But it might take months, even a year."
"Perhaps we should start with a mix of rue essence, belladonna, and bezoar…"
As they discussed treatment options, a faint moan came from a low cot in the corner.
The Muggle father, one of the two survivors, was slowly opening his eyes. When he took in his surroundings—stone walls, spinning silver instruments, and dozing portraits on the walls—his pupils dilated with fear, and he instinctively clutched the child lying beside him.
"Don't be afraid," Madam Pomfrey said, hurrying over with a softened voice. "You're safe now."
"Where… where is this?" the man stammered, his gaze darting among the wizards. "Who are you?"
"I'm Poppy Pomfrey, the matron of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is a school," she answered gently. "Can you tell us your name?"
"Wells. Byron Wells," the man said hoarsely. The boy in his arms stirred and opened his eyes.
"Dad?" the boy called weakly, then looked around in confusion. "Where's Mom?"
The room fell silent. Snape and McGonagall exchanged a worried glance.
"I'm so sorry," Snape said, stepping forward. "You two were the only ones found alive at the scene."
The boy's eyes filled with tears, and a heart-wrenching cry of "Mom!" tore through the air. Madam Pomfrey quickly waved her wand, and the boy slumped into his father's arms, fast asleep.
"What did you do to him?" Mr. Wells asked, clutching his son in panic.
"Just put him to sleep," Madam Pomfrey explained. "It's better for him. Too much emotional strain isn't good for recovery."
Mr. Wells checked his son's breathing, relaxing slightly when he confirmed it was steady. He looked up, his eyes a mix of fear and wariness. "Who are you people? And who were those… those masked people?"
"Masked people?" Snape asked. "Can you tell us exactly what happened, Mr. Wells?"
"We were resting at home," Mr. Wells said, exhaling heavily. "Suddenly, a few people like you burst in," he said, glancing nervously at Snape. "But they were wearing horrible masks. Then we blacked out. When we woke, we were in a cave." His voice trembled. "We saw two people fighting there…"
"Look, was one of them him?" Snape asked, pointing at Dumbledore.
"Yes," Mr. Wells said, studying Dumbledore closely and nodding. "The other one…" He shuddered. "The other one looked terrifying."
"Did the other one have any distinctive features?" Snape pressed.
Mr. Wells thought for a moment. "He… he had no nose."
Good observation, Snape thought, his lips nearly twitching into a smile before he caught himself, suppressing the urge.
McGonagall and Slughorn exchanged a shocked glance. Flitwick let out a small gasp. "Voldemort!"
"Voldemort?" Mr. Wells asked, confused.
"Never mind that," Snape said. "What else did you see?"
"We hid behind some rocks… didn't see much clearly," Mr. Wells said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just flashes of colored lights… then the man with no nose left through an arched opening."
"There were others like us who went through that archway," he continued, his voice dropping. "But they screamed, and we didn't dare follow. We stayed in the cave."
Snape rubbed his chin. It seemed Dumbledore hadn't been tracking a Horcrux but had followed Death Eaters kidnapping Muggles to the cave. That explained the Muggles' presence.
"What happened next?" McGonagall asked softly.
"We moved this man," Mr. Wells gestured to Dumbledore, "to the rocks. But we had no food or water, and I don't know how long we were there before we passed out." He glanced around the strange room again. "Until we ended up here."
"Thank you, Mr. Wells," McGonagall said. "You need rest." She turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, please take them to the Hospital Wing."
Then, addressing Mr. Wells, she added, "Once you're stable, we'll arrange to get you home."
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Of course." She helped the Wells family out of the office.
Once the door closed, Slughorn collapsed into the nearest armchair, pulling out an embroidered handkerchief to wipe his forehead. "Merlin's beard… Voldemort himself kidnapping Muggles… That's highly unusual."
"Albus tracked them," Flitwick squeaked. "I wonder what he discovered."
"We may have to wait until he wakes to find out," McGonagall said, taking a deep breath. She turned to Slughorn and Snape. "I'll leave the follow-up treatment to you."
"I'll have the house-elf Hokey look after Albus," she added, rubbing her temples wearily. "At least we don't need to rush repairs on the Founders' Ship for now."
"There's one more thing we need to address," Snape said. "We can't let Voldemort know Dumbledore is incapacitated, or Hogwarts will no longer be safe."
"What do you mean?" McGonagall frowned, then realized. "Oh, right. One of Albus's key roles has been to counter Voldemort's actions, preventing him from acting directly and causing widespread destruction. If he's absent for too long…"
"Voldemort will realize something's wrong," Slughorn said, his face paling as the realization hit. "And he'll attack without restraint." He looked at Snape. "You're right, Severus. But what can we do?"
"The solution's right in your Potions classroom, Professor," Snape said. "We need to create the illusion that Dumbledore isn't incapacitated."
"Polyjuice Potion!" Slughorn's eyes lit up, and he let out a gasp. "Of course! We can have someone impersonate Albus!"
"Who would take the role?" McGonagall asked, scanning the room before her gaze settled on Snape. "Severus, how about you? We all have our own duties."
"I don't mind," Snape said with a shrug, deliberately casual. "But if I play him, I might not resist heading to Austria to recruit an ally capable of facing Voldemort. And I fear the first thing the Headmaster would do upon waking is point his wand at me in fury."
Slughorn let out a chuckle, his round belly jiggling. "He's right, Minerva," he said. "Whoever it is, Severus is definitely not the best choice."
"Then I'll do it," McGonagall said with a weary smile. "But…" Her brow furrowed with concern. "It won't hold for long. I don't have Albus's strength. If 'Dumbledore' doesn't appear on the front lines against Voldemort…"
"It'll buy us time," Snape said quickly. "Meanwhile, we should continue repairing the ship, preparing for a possible evacuation as a backup plan."
McGonagall thought for a moment and nodded. "I'll leave organizing the students to you, Severus." She suddenly remembered something and turned to Slughorn. "Horace, are you planning to leave Hogwarts with us? I was going to ask Pomona to stay—"
Before she could finish, Slughorn interrupted. "I'm staying, Minerva."
"Are you sure, Professor?" Snape asked, eyeing him. "It's far more dangerous for you to stay."
"Someone has to stay to protect the remaining students, even if the Death Eaters might not harm them," Slughorn said, his voice surprisingly firm. "And…" He hesitated. "I'm acquainted with most of the Death Eaters. I'm the best fit."
Snape narrowed his eyes, silently mouthing the word "Horcrux."
Slughorn's face paled instantly, but he quickly regained his composure. "That's exactly why I need to stay. Severus, I trust your Potions skills are enough to care for Albus on your own."
"Professor," Snape said, studying his typically self-preserving Head of House, "think carefully. Staying could be far more dangerous than leaving."
"A life of wandering isn't suited for an old man like me," Slughorn said, stroking his mustache with a smile. "Besides, don't underestimate your Head of House, Severus. I've lived this long—it's time I showed some courage. And given what I've done, there's no turning back, is there?"
McGonagall's eyes shimmered with tears.
Flitwick hopped onto a chair and patted Slughorn's shoulder. "I'll stay with you, Horace. If those brats try anything in my castle, they'll taste my dueling skills!"
"You should go with them, Filius," Slughorn said with a smile. "Your fiery temper from your youth will be more useful with them."
As they prepared to leave the Headmaster's office temporarily, a silver-white creature with horns slipped through the wooden door, leaping to Dumbledore's bedside and gazing down at him.
At the same moment, the office door was flung open again. A tall man with wiry gray hair and a beard, and bright blue eyes strikingly similar to Dumbledore's, strode in.
Aberforth stepped to Dumbledore's side, stood in silence for a moment, and sighed softly. "My foolish brother."
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