The Talking Toad

Chapter 33

The Talking Toad

"How did my Patronus appear to you, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape.

"I don't know what you did to control it, but all I saw was a very large and awkward baby bird, quite a sight when it began to speak in your voice. I almost didn't catch what it was trying to tell me because I was laughing so hard."

Snape's eyebrow elevated with irritation.

"Sorry." Harry attempted to placate the dour man. "I meant no disrespect, but it really was too funny."

Snape huffed but continued as if Harry hadn't just poked fun at him. "And where were you when you saw it?"

"My office."

Snape snorted with impatience. "Was anyone with you? Did they suspect it was from me? Answers, Mr. Potter. I'm not standing here at your mother's gravesite for my health, you know. I took quite a chance in sending it to you, since I didn't know how it would appear once it reached its destination."

"About that – why did you want to meet here? I thought we had worked out the Shrieking Shack location."

"Have you been hiding in the Chamber of Secrets for the past week? I must avoid Miss Granger at all costs. And you know as well as I that she is probably sitting there right now, wondering where we are."

Harry sighed as he kicked the dirt with his shoe. "Knowing her, she probably got there early."

Snape nodded his agreement. "Back to my Patronus."

"Oh, yeah. As I mentioned before, it arrived as a baby bird, but it remained silent until I could shoo everyone out of my office. Then I still had to cast Muffliato before it would talk, so no one had any clue who might have sent it."

Snape smirked. "Excellent."

"An awkward, bumbling, but oh-so cute, baby bird... So the real you finally emerges," Harry added with a twinkle that would have made Dumbledore proud.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for cheek, Mr. Potter," Snape said with a stony glare that would have melted the most hardened juvenile miscreant.

Harry only snickered. He had finally begun to understand Snape's Saharan sense of humor.

The two men then proceeded to discuss the case and Hermione's latest findings. After some deliberation, they came to the same conclusion that Hermione had: they were both sure at this point that Umbridge was involved somehow, but they didn't have enough to convict her. They needed more information. They needed to question her. But that would be impossible without alerting her to their investigation.

As usual, Snape had a plan. But also as usual, he couldn't tell Harry what he was up to.

As they wrapped up their meeting, a silver otter appeared in front of them swirling and dipping as if swimming gracefully through water. "Harry, where are you?" it asked in Hermione's anxious voice.

"What a surprise." Snape raised an eyebrow.

As the otter faded, Harry cast his own Patronus. "We're safe. I'll owl you later." He sent it to deliver his message; then he turned to Snape in exasperation.

"She's probably sitting there in that hell-hole all alone, pining for you..."

"Although, I can't imagine why she would waste one single moment..."

Harry glared at his companion. "...and her heart is breaking."

Snape could take no more of this guilt trip Potter was attempting to send him on. He was already at his wit's end worrying about how his feelings for Miss Granger would likely lead to her professional ruin, not to mention the unfairness of it all. The article by that horrid Skeeter woman had been bad enough, but Potter's attempt to laden his soul with even more guilt was the last straw. He finally exploded at Potter in a fit of rage. "You think I have no feelings in this matter?" He growled through gritted teeth. "No! You probably think that I take some kind of perverse pleasure in keeping myself from her."

"I never said th..."

"My heart is breaking as well, Potter," he spat. "She and her children have become very dear to me, the only bright spot in my otherwise hideous existence." Snape balled his hands into tight fists and stuck his over-large nose in Wonder Boy's face. "But it's not enough that the wizarding world took the first fifty-eight years of my life. It seems they want the rest of it as well. I can't even choose my own friends." As Snape snarled out the last two words, he turned on his heel and stalked away. "This meeting is over!" he barked over his shoulder as he disappeared into the darkness.

Harry stood there with a gaping mouth for a few moments before he turned to the gravestones of his mother and father. "How did you ever make friends with him, Mum?" he grumbled. "He is the most stubborn, complicated, impossible..." Harry stopped himself, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, before adding in a whisper, "... and passionate man I have ever met."

*****

Just as Snape had promised, he readied his plan to interrogate Umbridge. He had saved the invitation to tea from Draco Malfoy, complete with Malfoy crest and Draco's signature. It would be easy enough to Vanish the body of the letter and replace it with one of his own, retaining the original crest and signature. He was sure that an appeal to Umbridge's massive ego, and the assumption that she would become the next Minister of Magic, would be eagerly embraced. So he invited her to tea at Malfoy Manor, claiming an interest in negotiating a triple book deal: her life story pre-, during-, and post- her years as Minister of Magic. All he needed now was a few of Draco's flaxen hairs and the Malfoy family travel plans for the Christmas hols. Winky could get him in since she spent so much time there helping Tolky with his chores that the Manor recognized her. She knew Malfoy Manor almost as well as Spinner's End. Tolky had already agreed to help in any way he could, including divulging the family's travel plans and the necessary collection of hair from Draco's brush.

Tolky had easily discovered that Malfoy Manor would be vacant both the week before and after Christmas, as it was the usual family custom to spend their hols in Paris, with Draco and his wife in Berlin with Wilhelmina's family. Since their family travel plans were no big secret, Tolky felt at ease sharing the information with Winky and Snape.

After assuring Winky that Secretary Umbridge would be coming to Malfoy Manor of her own free will, and a promise from Snape that she would not be required to put the Veritaserum in Madam Secretary's tea, Winky finally felt comfortable enough about the situation to help him. She didn't mind distracting the woman for a moment while he accomplished that task, which was a good thing since it might have been difficult to manage otherwise.

So, the day after the Malfoy family's departure, he sent Morticia on her way with the fake invitation that was charmed to disappear one half hour after Umbridge was supposed to arrive at the Manor. He would need to Obliviate her after she left, and he didn't want her to find any evidence of their meeting when she got back to her office. He also instructed Morticia to wait for a reply so the ridiculous woman wouldn't send her response to the real Draco.

Soon he would have the Toad eating out of his hand and happily spilling her deepest secrets.

*****

Three days later, Snape found himself Polyjuiced to look like Draco, dressed in a set of fine robes pilfered from Lucius' closet, sitting in the Malfoy Manor library, sipping tea with none other than Secretary of Foreign Relations, Dolores Umbridge. Winky waited dutifully by the tea table and, as the elf offered the Secretary another crumpet from the side opposite Snape, he discreetly added three drops of Veritaserum to the woman's tea. Snape knew that it worked better if the victim was unaware she had been dosed.

Perfect.

Thus far, he had kept to small talk, but now that the potion was in her system, he knew it would begin to work almost immediately, so his questions began to get more personal. "Yes," Snape continued his interview of the pink toad, "I think the public would be fascinated to read about the life and times of Dolores Umbridge. For instance, you're clever like a Ravenclaw, have shown bravery in the face of adversity like a Gryffindor," – he knew that was laying it on a bit thick, but he was determined to stroke her ego to soften her up – "and shrewd in your business dealings like a Slytherin. I simply can't hazard a guess as to which house you may have been sorted into."

"What? No Hufflepuff loyalty traits?" she asked, pretending to be offended. Snape started at his slight, but even he couldn't bring himself to call her loyal when she had so easily switched sides depending on the political climate. He needn't have worried. The toad immediately began to laugh that irritating, high-pitched laugh that had driven him to distraction the year she had taught and tortured the students at Hogwarts.

He decided to play up to her joke. "Now, Madam Secretary, not even you can be all things to all people," he said with a simpering smile. "By the way, which house did you end up being sorted into?"

"I didn't attend Hogwarts, my dear boy. I'm from America."

Snape's eyes grew wide and he needed all his will power to recover before she noticed. He hadn't expected this.

"Oh, don't worry, Draco. My roots come from the best pure-blood families in Britain. I'll have you know that my maiden name is Selwyn and my mother's maiden name was Black."

"Impressive bloodlines indeed. Still," Snape added, "it's a good thing that the Ministry has no requirement that you were born here. It would be a shame if you couldn't run due to such a trivial technicality." Umbridge nodded in agreement. "So, did you graduate from Salem?"

"No, actually, a small school in the southeast: Possum Pouch in Pungo, Virginia."

Snape had to concentrate to keep from laughing at the name, but after a moment he decided that it was no worse than Hogwarts in Hogsmeade. "Is Virginia where your family is from?"

"Yes. My ancestors came to Jamestown in the 1600s and made a good life for themselves there."

"What brought you to England?"

"Truth be told, I wanted to get away from my family. They didn't understand me."

Snape knew that the Veritaserum's effects would only last so long, and there were more important matters to discuss. So, as much as he would have loved to hear about her misunderstood childhood, he decided to move on. "Well, I can hardly wait to read about that part of your life in the first book." He needed a graceful segue so she wouldn't realize that she was being interrogated. "So... What made you decide to get into politics?"

"My husband, Erasmus, encouraged me to enter the Ministry's diplomatic corps. Merlin, rest his soul. He's been gone over thirty-five years now."

"That's a long time to be alone, especially for someone of your youth and good looks who still has a long and promising future ahead of her." Snape felt the skin along his backbone crawl as he said these words, but he hadn't been sorted into Slytherin for nothing.

The toad fluttered her eyelashes at him and had the audacity to drape a limp wristed hand across his knee. He cringed inwardly. "Oh, Draco, flattery will get you..."

"Now, now, Madam Secretary." Snape picked up her hand with his thumb and index finger and removed it from his knee as he tamped down the nausea that had begun to rise in his stomach. "I am, after all, a married man," he chided. "And you are running for Minister, are you not? Think of your reputation!"

The toad's face turned a light shade of magenta to match her dress robes. She tried to hide her embarrassment by sipping her tea. Snape knew that in some cases, not only would a person tell the truth while under the influence of Veritaserum, she would act out deeply treasured fantasies as well, if given the opportunity.*

Interesting. Perhaps he should warn Draco...

Then again, perhaps not.

But the clock was ticking and he had wasted enough time. "Tell me, what are some of the most appealing aspects of your current job as Secretary of Foreign Relations?"

"My favorite part is the travelling, of course, and meeting so many new people. I'm a people-person, you know."

Snape raised a skeptical eyebrow but nodded anyway. Now he could determine if she was indeed the one who signed the transfer papers. "And do you help Muggle-borns find new locations if they desire a transfer?"

"Why, yes!" she answered, as if she had been aching to tell someone about this aspect of her job.

"And how do you help them, exactly?"

Umbridge wriggled her butt firmly into her cushiony chair and sat up very straight with pride. "I help them realize that they would be much happier in another country. Then I help them find a position there. Once it's all settled, I sign the transfer papers, and we have one less Muggle-born to muddy up the gene-pool here in Britain."

Snape was shocked by her blatant answer, but he managed to school his features. "And do you encourage Muggle-born retirees to emigrate as well?"

"Why, yes, of course." She leaned closer and whispered, "Wouldn't it be nice if we could get rid of all of them?" Her face was aglow with delight.

Disgust and nausea warred with each other to rise to the surface, but his years as a spy helped him manage to keep the expression on his face passive. After a moment, he continued, choosing his words with care. "Has someone coerced you into doing this, Madam Secretary?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head emphatically. "It's my duty."

"I see." There was still the question of who actually checked the tax records. "Have you ever Polyjuiced yourself to look like any of the individuals you encouraged to find new positions?"

"No," she replied, puzzled. "Why on earth would I want to do that?"

He thought surely she would have done it. Could the Veritaserum be wearing off already? "Have you ever used Polyjuice to impersonate anyone?"

"Well, there was that one time back in school." She rolled her eyes and blushed a delicate shade of peach. "But that was decades ago, and besides, how else was I going to get into Basil's pants? He would never have given me a second look otherwise."

Too much information! Yes, the potion was still hard at work in her system. He had to steer her in another direction – fast! He contemplated his next question. If she was manipulating Muggle-born Ministry employees, perhaps she was manipulating the Skeeter woman as well. "Do you have any influence over the stories Rita Skeeter writes for the Daily Prophet?"

"No," she shook her head with a thoughtful look on her face.

"You don't ever suggest that she write about anyone in particular?"

"No." Now the toad began to look offended.

"Do you ever help her to write her stories?"

"Of course not! I wouldn't lift a finger to help that trash!" Umbridge replied vehemently.

Again, Snape raised an eyebrow. So she had nothing to do with Skeeter's stories. Well, someone was telling her who to dig up dirt on. "Do you know of anyone who does tell her what or who to write about?"

"No. I have no idea, nor would I associate with anyone who associates with the likes of her!"

Snape raised both eyebrows this time at the level of venom Umbridge was so willing to fling at Skeeter. The Horntail calling the Ridgeback vicious, by his estimation. He thought surely that the blackmailer was manipulating Skeeter's stories. Perhaps Umbridge really was an innocent by-stander in all of this.

There was one more thing he felt compelled to ask her before the potion began to wear off. After years of contemplation, he had come to the conclusion that she was the most likely person on the Wizengamot to vote against Dumbledore's portrait's testimony. Ever since the night in her office at Hogwarts when he refused to supply her with more Veritaserum to interrogate Potter, he could feel the waves of animosity roll off of her whenever he had crossed her path. Could she have been the person guilty of ruining his life? He began to lead her in the right direction before it was too late to find out. "So you obviously hate Rita Skeeter. I can hardly blame you for feeling that way. But how do you feel about some of the other dregs of society... say, Severus Snape, for example?"

"Severus Snape?" She shrugged non-committally. "I feel nothing one way or another."

Snape's eyebrows knit together in bewilderment. "You don't despise him?"

"No. Why should I?"

He felt surely that, all those years ago, it had been her one dissenting vote cast just to spite him. And so he asked the question that had been burning in his mind for over twenty years. "Didn't you cast the dissenting vote to prevent Dumbledore's portrait from testifying on his behalf at his trial?"

"Of course not!" She shook her head with a scowl. "He's not my favorite person, but I was willing to hear what the portrait had to say. If what Harry Potter said was true, the man didn't deserve any jail time. It was sad, really."

These words of pity from the likes of a cold-hearted person like Umbridge took Snape completely by surprise. At first he simply could not believe his ears. And so, just to be certain, he caught her gaze and cast a silent Legilimens. There, just beneath the surface of her mind, was the memory he sought. She reached into a glass jar and retrieved a thin dowel of wood, just as the other members of the Wizengamot had done. Then, one by one, each person thrust his or her hand into a ceramic urn where they let the stick drop. If they wanted to vote "yes," they left the stick whole. If they wanted to vote "no," they broke the stick in their fist before letting it drop. When the vote was finished, the chief warlock would dump out the contents of the urn for all to see. If there was even one broken stick, the motion would not pass. As the memory played itself out, he felt her hold the stick in her hand as she contemplated his fate. With a heavy sigh, she dropped the stick into the urn unharmed. She had told him the truth. She had voted yes.

Umbridge was not the one.

But even though she was not the person who ruined what remained of his life, and she was not pulling Skeeter's strings, could she still be the blackmailer? Or could she, perhaps, be another victim of the blackmailer? Since the Veritaserum was obviously still working, he decided the easiest thing was simply to ask.

"Madam Secretary..."

"Oh, please, Draco. Such formality is not necessary between us." She leaned towards him, invading his personal space and fluttering those batty eyelids at him again. "Do call me Dolores."

"Right." Snape leaned back awkwardly away from her and tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Dolores, are you currently, or have you ever in the past, tried to black..."

POP! Suddenly, Tolky appeared beside Winky, a look of terror on his face. Snape scowled at him. "Tolky, what are you doing here?"

Tolky quickly whispered into Winky's ear then turned back to Snape, still horrified, only now Winky's expression matched his. Snape felt a touch of anxiety at the looks on their faces which turned to full blown panic a split second later.

"TOLKY!" Lucius bellowed from somewhere down the hall. "Where the hell did you disappear to?"

Snape bolted out of his chair and grabbed a confused Umbridge by the hand, reaching for Winky's hand at the same time. "Tolky, please see to the tea service." The elf nodded frantically. "Winky, the front gate, if you please."

In an instant, they were standing by the ornately designed wrought-iron front gates of Malfoy Manor.

"Wasn't that Lucius I just heard in there?" the toad asked, thoroughly flustered.

"Uh... yes, it was." Snape rattled his brain to come up with a quick lie, just to get her through the front gates. He shot Winky a glance so she would open them.

"Then why did you whisk me away? I would love to have spoken with him."

"But do you think that wise, Madam Secretary," Snape explained smoothly, "considering you are running for the highest office in Wizarding Britain?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

It had been many years since Snape had seen the toad flustered. The Weasley twins' fireworks display during OWL exams came to mind. He found it quite amusing. He enjoyed the spectacle for a few moments while he came up with a suitable excuse for exiting the house so suddenly. "Well, my father's position in society is still quite precarious since the second downfall of Tom Riddle. And although I'm certain you would have both enjoyed this private conversation, in his mind it would have been viewed as an invitation to address you as an old friend in public. If you weren't running for office, it wouldn't be an issue, but do you really want to risk a perceived close acquaintance with my father to sully your... spotless reputation?"

"Oh. Oh dear. Yes, I see what you mean. Yes, from here on out I must be much more careful with whom I associate. Thank you, Draco, for that sage advice. You may have just saved my political career." She smiled that fake, saccharine smile of hers as she fanned her flushed face with a pink lace hanky. Then she waddled through the gate that Winky had graciously opened for her.

Snape followed her out, took her hand in his and bowed over it like a nobleman of a by-gone era. He just couldn't bring himself to kiss it, however. He straightened up and smiled at her, his hands repositioning themselves behind his back. "Good day, Madam Secretary. I'll be in touch."

"Yes, Draco. Send me a contract and I'll have my solicitor look it over. I'm confident we can work out something mutually lucrative."

Snape nodded. Turn and walk away, already! he pleaded inwardly. He could feel the effects of the Polyjuice Potion wearing off and wondered if his hair had begun to turn black again. He could already feel his nose starting to grow.

Thankfully, she turned away, bidding him a good day over her shoulder. He tapped his head to Disillusion himself, then he flicked his wand at her retreating form to wipe away all memory of the invitation to tea or the actual event. Finally, with a huge sigh of relief, he placed his hand in Winky's. "Let's go home."

*This statement is pure conjecture on my part. I don't believe there is anything in canon to support it, but nothing to dispute it either.

A/N: Pungo is a real place, part of the rural area of the City of Virginia Beach, Virginia. If you Google "Witch of Pungo" you will find information on a woman who was accused of Witchcraft and served jail time for her "crimes." She was later released and led a secluded country life. Southeastern Virginia, USA, where I live, was not big on prosecuting people for witchcraft. The government here had come to the conclusion that most accusations were the result of petty jealously or vindictiveness on the part of the accuser, and more often than not, charges were dropped. Since Pungo has a magical reputation and had lax anti-witchcraft laws back in the day, I thought it would be a logical place for 17th century magical folk to start a school. And the 'possum is a marsupial, raising its young in a pouch, and a very common wild animal "in these here woods."