"Stop hiding! We know you're in there! There are several wands pointed at you right now—don't think we won't use them!"
The shouting rang out across the darkened hillside, rough voices carried on the wind, followed by the chaotic pounding of feet circling in from all sides.
Inside the tent, Dumbledore remained perfectly still, calm as a statue, not even making the effort to rise.
Snape, seeing this, quickly reached into his bag, fingers feeling around until he pulled out a handful of small, glowing green spheres.
Without hesitation, he hurled them out of the tent flap with a sharp flick of his arm.
"Bloody hell—what the devil are these things?!" someone screamed outside in alarm.
Even Dumbledore's typically composed expression twitched slightly at the uproar that followed.
Snape muttered a rapid incantation, casting a Shield Charm upon himself. A translucent shell of protection shimmered into place, wrapping around him.
He stepped forward, yanked open the tent flap, and marched out into the chaos.
"Get them off me! Get them off!"
The scene outside was mayhem. Four or five figures were writhing on the ground, shrieking in pain as magical light flashed through the dark like lightning bolts.
The strange green orbs had unfolded into leafy, living plants that hopped and yowled wildly, their wide leaves bristling with jagged, snapping thorns.
Snape wove carefully through the carnage, raising his wand and aiming steadily at those still fighting back.
"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!"
Twin jets of brilliant light shot from his wand and struck two wizards mid-duel, sending their wands flying.
"No—please!" one of them cried out, just before being tackled by a snarling plant that latched on with its thorny leaves, dragging him into the grass.
Snape caught the disarmed wands midair with a flick of his wrist. Without a glance, he flung them to the ground and brought his boot down hard.
Crack. Crack.
Delicate wooden shafts splintered into useless fragments.
"Professor," Snape called back toward the tent, "you may come out now."
Dumbledore emerged slowly, his robes rippling in the sea breeze. He paused at the sight before him—wounded attackers groaning in the grass, shredded plants flailing excitedly—and blinked, speechless.
At last, he lifted his hand, pointing at one of the blood-soaked plants.
"Severus… what are these things?"
"Snapping cabbages," Snape replied blandly.
"You call that a snapping cabbage?" Dumbledore's beard twitched with irritation. "Then what, pray tell, do you call actual snapping cabbages?"
"Er—well, Professor," Snape looked a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck, "these are… modified. You could call them cabbage pups, if you like."
"Pups?" Dumbledore echoed, eyes narrowing. "What kennel did you raid for these lunatics?"
"Professor, perhaps we should see to the attackers first," Snape hurried to change the subject, affecting a tone of great urgency. "They're bleeding out, you know."
Grumbling, Dumbledore lifted his wand. With a graceful motion, the frenzied cabbages were pushed away by an unseen force, landing far from the group with disgruntled yelps.
A set of conjured chains snaked through the air, binding the fallen attackers tight. At the same time, glowing streams of healing magic poured over their wounds, knitting torn flesh back together.
"My wand!" cried a hulking brute of a man as he blinked through the blood crusting his face. "Where's my wand?!"
"Where are their wands, Severus?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
"Right here." Snape pointed to the pile of broken splinters at his feet. "All accounted for."
Dumbledore sighed, as though trying to exhale his disappointment. "They really don't teach dueling etiquette at Hogwarts anymore, do they?"
Snape pulled a small vial from his robes and smeared some of the clear liquid on his arms and neck. The scent immediately calmed the twitching cabbages, who whimpered with satisfaction and folded their thorns neatly away.
Dumbledore watched this with curiosity, then waved his wand once more.
A harsh white light flared.
The attackers' eyes glazed over. Their snarling grimaces slackened into dazed stares. One by one, their limbs drooped, and their faces relaxed into sleepy, unbothered expressions.
Then came another series of flashes—crimson, rhythmic—and a gust of enchanted wind swept across the meadow.
The attackers dropped into a deep, dreamless slumber.
"Brilliant, Professor!" Snape applauded, gathering up his now-docile plants. "You always make it look so easy."
"Next time, I won't bother stepping in," Dumbledore muttered. "Had I waited a moment longer, you'd have rivaled Tom in Horcrux tally."
"Oh come now, it's not like I killed that many." Snape scratched his head. "Besides, it was the cabbages doing the damage."
Dumbledore gave no reply. He simply began to pace in a wide circle, chanting softly under his breath.
A shimmering haze rose from the earth, distorting the air like a heatwave, sealing them once again in a protective dome of silence and secrecy.
"There. No more interruptions. Back inside, Severus."
They returned to the warmth of the enchanted tent. Apart from a few flattened flowers at the entrance, everything was untouched. Calm, quiet, safe.
That night passed without dreams.
At dawn, the sea turned silver beneath a rising sun, and the sky stretched blue and violet above the crashing waves.
Snape stirred at the sound of movement outside the tent. Muffled footsteps crunched softly in the grass.
He checked the looking glass on the table. It remained still and silent.
"Professor, someone's coming," he said, nudging Dumbledore awake.
"Ah, that must be Alastor." Dumbledore stood and lifted the protective charm.
A hulking figure approached, leaning heavily on a gnarled staff.
"You lot certainly kept busy last night," Moody barked, eyeing the battlefield as he strode toward the tent.
"Good morning, Alastor," Dumbledore greeted him. "Pack it up, Severus. We're off soon."
"Hold your thestrals," Moody grunted, snatching a cream cake from the table. "Let a man eat."
Once he'd finished, Snape packed the tent neatly back into his bag.
Dumbledore had already summoned the black sailboat back to the shoreline.
Together, the three boarded. Under the steady rhythm of magic, the vessel turned from the land and sailed straight into the open sea.