Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. The lyrics belong to Muse. This short story belongs to me.

A/N- Hello one and all! This is another one-shot that I've been dying to write for ages. I've written something similar to this in one of the chapters of 'Harry Potter and the Mark of a Hero' (and some of the dialogue in this is taken directly from that), but I really wanted to expand on the idea a bit more as a stand-alone one-shot because the concept has so much potential. It certainly isn't my best work, and it isn't as perfect as I would like, but I really hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Part of a 'What if' series of One-Shots

A Toad in Pink Clothing

By Littleforest

Corrupt, you're corrupt,

Bring corruption to all that you touch.

Hold, you behold,

And beholden for all that you've done.

And spin, cast a spell,

Cast a spell on the country you run.

And risk, you will risk,

You will risk all their lives and their souls.

'Take A Bow', Muse

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts."

The Headmaster stood up and walked over to the podium, his eyes twinkling madly as he looked out over to his beloved students, both new and returning. The old man seemed to be as happy and jovial as he always was, on the surface at least, but behind his glittering eyes there was a sense of tiredness and stress that had been seldom ever associated with the Headmaster. Many students and teachers alike had picked up on that tiny change in him, and it had filled the usually cheerful evening with a sense of dread. Because if Dumbledore was worried, they knew there must truly be something terrible to worry about...

Harry Potter, however, knew full well what was bothering the Headmaster, because it was the same thing that was bothering him too. The Sixth Year Gryffindor allowed his eyes to wander around the Great Hall as Dumbledore spoke, pushing past the feeling of impending doom that had been plaguing him all summer. Harry, like Dumbledore, had been consumed with Voldemort's plans; everything from what he was going to do, to how he was going to do it. Voldemort had been quiet after the fiasco at the Ministry, but the silence had only increased apprehension for those trying to fight him. They had all been waiting for something to happen, and yet dreading it at the same time.

It had been nothing short of torture.

Harry shook his head slightly to dispel the slightly desolate thoughts from his already tired mind. The sorting had been fairly quick and straightforward thankfully, and the feast had been magnificent as usual. Now everyone was just waiting for Dumbledore to dismiss them so that they could return to their dormitories and sleep.

Harry, especially, was desperate to leave. He had been jumpy and snappy all evening, his mood a side affect of exhaustion no doubt, and he needed his nice warm bed more than he liked to admit. His friends were taking his mood swings in their stride, and he was grateful for their unwavering support, but he hated to take his mood out on them, especially after the way he had acted all last year. He'd vowed, during the long, dreadful summer, to do his best to treat his friends how they deserved to be treated, and so far he seemed to be doing a poor job. He couldn't help it though; he had been isolated from his friends over the break, although this time he had been much more understanding, and he wasn't quite used to seeing friendly faces just yet.

Of course, his summer had been nothing short of hell, an unending break spent at the uncaring and unsympathetic Dursleys. On top of the usual treatment he'd received from his relatives, Harry had also been caught up in grief and stress, thinking of nothing but Sirius' death, Voldemort's plans and the weight of the Prophecy.

Harry ran a hand tiredly over his face as Dumbledore continued to give his start of year speech, trying to push away the feeling of uselessness that had been his constant state for the past few weeks. Sighing softly, Harry tried to school his features into something that at least resembled happiness. Partly because he didn't want his friends to worry, and also because he simply didn't want anyone to know that he was struggling.

After hearing the Prophecy, something had changed in Harry. He vowed to himself now, as he allowed Dumbledore's words to flow over him, that he wouldn't be pushed around anymore. If he had to end Voldemort himself, then he would, but he wasn't going to do it on anyone else's terms. He had to be strong. It was his time to step up, and no matter how much it scared him, he wasn't a Griffindor for nothing. He would fight until the very end, until the last breath was pulled from his body and his last drop of blood was spilt.

Because if he didn't win, all would be lost. And he knew it.

"Now, before we all head off to our beds," Dumbledore continued, pulling Harry out of his pensive thoughts and causing a few of the older students to groan, "There are still a few announcements that have to be made."

The old man's face grew serious for a second, looking more grave than Harry had thought possible, and Harry's sense of dread came back in full force. The normally jovial Headmaster had rarely sounded so serious.

"As you will all no doubt be aware," Dumbledore began, "Voldemort has returned."

Even though this was common knowledge by now, gulps and whispers still followed the statement. The fact that Dumbledore looked so grave did little to reassure anyone. Harry, however, just dropped his gaze to the table once again, his hands clenched slightly as he fought to control his frustration with the situation. He knew what Dumbledore was going to say, what he was going to tell the school, and it was nothing on the nightmares that had followed him since his last confrontation with Voldemort. The students around him, sat wide-eyed as Dumbledore explained the threat You-Know-Who presented, knew nothing of true horror. They had no idea what the evil bastard was truly capable of, and truthfully, although it angered him slightly that he hadn't been granted that same innocence in life, Harry hoped they never would.

"Let me assure you," Dumbledore continued, his voice projecting the power in his words, "That Hogwarts is safe."

He heard a few sighs of relief reverberate around the hall, but Harry was not nearly as reassured by the old man's words as they were. Instead, Harry felt his heart thudding loudly in his chest against his will, the words of the Prophecy hitting his mind with every beat.

Neither can live while the other survives...

Nowhere was safe for him anymore. There was no future for him, no life or love. He was held randsom by destiny, forced to fulfill a task that would either end in murder or death. He had always gained strength from being inside the magnificant castle walls, but even Hogwarts couldn't protect him from fate. He couldn't hide here anymore, hoping that someone else would kill Voldemort for him. It was up to him now, and deep down, he had always known it would be.

"I must warn you though," continued Dumbledore, his face grave as his intense gaze wandered across the Hall to all his students, wavering slightly at the Slytherin table, "That if any one of you jeopardises that safety, the punishment will be most severe."

His tone of voice was as harsh as Harry had ever heard it, and as he looked out towards the Slytherin table, Harry noticed that Malfoy had paled considerably upon hearing Dumbledore's threat. Harry had little time to ponder the implications of this reaction, though, because at that moment the doors of the Great Hall swung open, and a voice greeted them, a voice Harry had hoped to never hear again.

"Heh, hem."

Harry fixed his gaze firmly onto the table in front of him, refusing to turn to look at the newcomer, just in case it was as he feared. She could not be here. She couldn't possibly...

"Punishment is for the Ministry to decide, Headmaster," she simpered, and Harry felt his heart clench in ice. He heard heels clicking on the stone floor as the owner of the voice made their way into the centre of the Great Hall, but still Harry did not look up; he did not want to believe what his senses were telling him. He did not want to believe that she had returned.

"In such...troubled times," she continued, her voice as cold as Harry remembered it, "We must look to the Ministry for guidance."

Harry growled, but remained unmoving from his position at the Gryffindor table, desperately trying to control his temper. His friends shot him worried looks, but Harry ignored them as he struggled to focus on steadying his shaking hands and calming his breaths.

"Dolores," greeted Dumbledore, ignoring the slight against Hogwarts and his own authority with ease. "How can we be of service to the Ministry today?"

"Albus," Umbridge said, but the sweet tone was unable to contain the contempt in her voice. "I believe it is my duty to ensure that Hogwarts is as safe as can be. It seems I have arrived just in time. I'm afraid the Ministry does not approve of unauthorised punishments and threats against mere children."

"Of course not," muttered Harry angrily before Dumbledore could respond, but in the silence that followed her announcement, his words carried through the whole Hall.

"You were punished fairly, Mr Potter," Umbridge said, talking slowly as if she was speaking to a small child. Harry felt anger rise in him at the mere thought of her punishments, and it was with little conscious thought that Harry snapped up out of his chair and turned to face her.

So much for controlling his temper...

"Your little club was not Ministry approved," she continued, a small smirk on her face as she watched Harry's reaction. Harry, for his part, was doing his best not to curse her into oblivion, although his hands were shaking slightly with the effort. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may have returned, but that is no excuse for such lax practices to continue - "

"You're wrong!" Harry interrupted angrily, causing gasps to fly through the Hall at his open hostility. Harry didn't care what anyone thought of him; he was too busy glaring at Umbridge so intensely that he was surprised that she didn't simply disappear from his sheer force of will. His mantra from the summer came back to him. I must be strong, I must not be weak. "He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated is the reason we formed the club at all!"

Hermione turned to him, desperation written all over her face. "Harry – "

"No!" interrupted Harry without taking his glare off Umbridge. "I've had enough of her!"

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was aware of a hand grabbing his shoulder, obviously trying to hold him back, but his anger at Umbridge had taken over and he shrugged it off, marching over to the place she was stood with a fury that he had not felt in a long time, quite disregarding the fact that he was losing his temper in front of the whole school, as well as all his teachers; he just simply didn't care anymore.

"You dare come back here?" Harry asked scathingly, and he was pleased to see her flinch under his glare. "You and your damned ministry dare to try and interfere at Hogwarts after what happened last year."

"I am merely here for a long overdue inspection into the administrative practices of this school, Mr Potter," she replied, taking on the tone of a person talking to a very small child once again. "There will be nothing to worry about, if the school has nothing to hide."

She glanced condescendingly over to Professor Dumbledore who merely looked on serenely, but Harry couldn't care less that the Headmaster didn't seem remotely bothered by the barely veiled threat. He didn't even care that the entire school was watching this confrontation.

"No!" Harry cried suddenly, causing a few of the first years sat near them to flinch. "I will not just sit and watch while you idiots interfere in the one place that is safe from Voldemort!"

"Mr Potter–" began McGonagall, obviously trying to calm him down, but Umbridge interrupted before she could.

"Mr Potter," Umbridge simpered, seemingly unperturbed by Harry's outburst, "perhaps you do not understand. I am here only for the safety of the children. There have been a number of concerns voiced from our more prominent families about some of the practices that have been occurring in this school as of late. I am thinking only of what is best – "

"What's best?" Harry roared, completely forgetting that he was shouting at his ex-defence teacher in front of the whole school and all his teachers; his anger had gotten the better of him. "What's best? It would have been best for the Ministry the acknowledge Voldemort's return when he was first reborn over a year ago, instead of burying their heads in the sand! It would have been best for the Ministry to send a competent employee to teach the students to actually defend themselves, instead of sending a stupid toad like you!"

"There was nothing wrong with my teaching methods," she snapped angrily, seemingly making a move towards her wand before glancing up at the staff table and apparently thinking better of it. The teachers had done nothing to stop the argument, but that seemed more down to shock than anything else. If she attacked a student, their reaction would be quite different, that much was clear.

"Oh no, of course not," Harry scoffed, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm, before he allowed anger to seep into his words. "You didn't even teach us magic! Anyone would think you didn't know how to perform it. Or maybe that's it? Are you little more than a squib - ?

"What were you doing in the Department of Mysteries at the end of last term, Mr Potter?" she interrupted, having obviously decided that it was time to go on the attack, and apparently not appreciating the squib comment at all.

"I fancied a nice trip," Harry replied sarcastically, after shooting a somewhat concerned glance to Dumbledore which thankfully Umbridge missed. How much did they know about what had gone on last term?

"You have no right to go meddling in things that are of no concern to you, Potter," Umbridge retaliated, spitting in anger. "What were you doing!?"

"None of your business really," Harry said nonchalantly, whilst all the while his anger was bubbling under the surface, barely constrained. "And if you're anything like you were as a Professor, there's really nothing you can do to make me tell you."

"How dare you! You insolent – "

"How many other students had the pleasure of one of your 'special' detentions," Harry interrupted, using her brief distraction as a chance to go on the offensive. "Or was it just me who was treated to that particular...honour?"

Her face turned pale as he mentioned this, and he found some satisfaction in the fact that she suddenly looked extremely nervous, anxiously glancing towards the staff table. Harry recognised an opportunity when he saw it, and he was going to ruthlessly exploit it without a thought to the consequences. In fact, only one thought entered his mind: she was going to pay.

"Ah, I assume your bosses don't know about that then, hmm?" Harry said, with the threat clear in his expression as he glared fearlessly at her. "I'm almost certain it's illegal. Perhaps I should enlighten them..."

"I did nothing wrong," she replied somewhat hoarsely, barely concealing the fear in her voice.

"Oh, I think we both know that isn't true," Harry said scathingly. "And after all, Dolores, one mustn't tell lies."

Harry didn't raise his hand to show her the scars that her quill had left there, but she got the message regardless. Harry glanced around the Hall, catching the gaze of the confused students that were sat around the different tables, staring at the two of them with undisguised curiosity. Even the teachers still seemed too shocked by the argument to stop them, although a few had automatically grabbed their wands out of instinct.

"I think perhaps I was a little hasty in coming here today," Umbridge said shakily as she glanced nervously towards the teacher's table at the end of the Hall. "I will come back at a more appropriate time."

"If you want me to keep your 'little secret', you'll never show your face here ever again," Harry said icily, causing a few shocked gasps to fly around the Hall. "You know, it's bad enough that Voldemort's back, without the Ministry going around making things worse. I've had enough of people like you! Leave now and never come back, or I swear I will make you!"

When Umbridge didn't move immediately, Harry walked closer to her, only stopping when he was within touching distance of her. In one look, he managed to convey every ounce of hatred he had for her, every shred of frustration and worry and panic that had been plaguing him all summer.

"Get. Out."

She took one look at the cold and barely contained fury in his eyes, and upon seeing no mercy there, turned and stumbled inelegantly towards the exit, in as close to a run as she could get without actually doing so.

The noise her pink heels made echoed around the otherwise silent hall, only stopping when she had reached the large wooden doors. To the students' further amazement, she turned to face Harry once more in a final show of defiance, or perhaps in an attempt to keep what was left of her dignity. Either way, Harry didn't care.

"This isn't over, Potter," she spat out, her dishevelled appearance belying any control she had left over the situation.

"Of course it is, Professor," replied Harry mimicking her sweet tone, but soon his tone turned harsh. "Voldemort is back, remember? We've all got bigger problems to worry about. You don't scare me. He does."

Umbridge had been attempting to match Harry's glare, but had been unable to prevent a terrified gasp at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"I won't ask you again Dolores," Harry said nonchalantly, fingering his wand in a silent threat. He knew it was risky to openly confront a Ministry employee in front of so many witnesses, but his anger at the woman had long pushed him past the point where sense still mattered. "Leave. Now."

After taking one last look over to the motionless teachers table, she did so, flustering her way out of the Great Hall doors and away from Hogwarts, leaving a silent hall full of shocked students and Professors behind her.

Dumbledore was the first to recover.

"I believe that is enough for tonight," he stated calmly, an unreadable expression on his face. "Prefects, if you'll escort your students back to the Common Rooms. Goodnight."

Harry glanced over to the staff table as the students fell out of their shock-filled stupor and began to move. He knew, from the look on McGonagall's face alone, that he was in serious trouble now, but Harry couldn't find it within himself to care. Looking over to Dumbledore, Harry wondered why the man had not intervened in the argument. Umbridge had left most people in shock over her reappearance, but it would take more than that to shock the Headmaster. It was almost, Harry thought, looking back on it with a clearer head, as if the Headmaster had thought he deserved the right to get back at Umbridge for all that she had put him through last year.

Let the Minsitry just try and interfere now, Harry thought angrily as spun on his heels and left the Great Hall as quickly as his legs would carry him. He wanted to avoid the inevitable staring and pointing for as long as possible, desperate for nothing more than his bed.

Harry had had enough. He was sixteen now, and had the weight of an entire world on his shoulders. He wasn't going to let anyone push him around anymore.

If anyone wanted to come at him now, he'd be ready this time.

A/N- So that's it. I've left the ending deliberately ambiguous, simply so that you can form your own views on what happens next (does Umbridge get into trouble, or does Harry? etc...). I won't be continuing this story myself, as I think it works well as a one-shot, but I look forward to hearing your ideas!

Also, I know it isn't my best story, but I've uploaded it anyway because it's been hanging over me for ages. I hope you like it, and if you do, check out my profile- I have other stories there you might enjoy. Let me know what you think, but most of all, thanks for reading!