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Ministry of Magic, Underground Kitchen.
This place had been transformed into the "Snape-Dragon Skrewt · Potion Boot Camp."
The evolved Dark Magic Snape-Dragon Skrewt was hovering near the ceiling. The wind from its fleshy wings sent pots and pans flying everywhere. It stared at Minister Fudge with beady, intelligent eyes, endlessly spitting out Snape's pre-recorded voice lines:
"Fudge! Your stirring speed is slower than a Mountain Troll! Left hand, three and a half turns clockwise! Right hand, slap yourself counter-clockwise! Faster!"
Minister Fudge was currently wearing a pink apron (chosen by the Skrewt), his face covered in soot, standing teary-eyed in front of a giant cauldron.
"I... I really don't know how to brew a Sobriety Draught..." Fudge wailed. "I'm the Minister! I only know how to sign papers and shift blame!"
"Too much talking!" The Skrewt opened its mouth and spat a jet of green acid, precisely corroding an onion in front of Fudge (used to induce tears).
"If you can't brew it, throw your toupee in! Those few hairs might work as Mandrake roots!"
Fudge shivered in fear and hurriedly dumped a pile of random ingredients into the pot.
Because he was so nervous, he mistook "Blast-Ended Skrewt Shed Poisonous Hair" for "Sneezewort," and swapped "Fluxweed" for "Snape's Special Hair Tonic · Concentrate."
Gurgle... gurgle...
The cauldron emitted eerie bubbling sounds. The color shifted from green to fluorescent pink, then to a chaotic, iridescent black.
"Did... did it work?" Fudge asked trembling.
The Skrewt leaned in to sniff, and its face suddenly changed (if a lizard could have facial expressions).
"Run! You idiot! That's a 'Super Mega Afro Generator'!"
BOOM—!!!
A massive explosion.
The kitchen ceiling was blown off.
A gigantic, ginger-scented mushroom cloud rose from the Ministry of Magic, forming a clear "S" shape over London (standing for both Snape and Shit).
In the center of the blast.
Minister Fudge was floating in mid-air, sporting a six-foot-diameter afro, drifting like a black dandelion, muttering endlessly: "I resign... I resign..."
Meanwhile, the Skrewt was digging through the ruins and pulled out a glittering... gold egg.
"Oh ho?" The Skrewt let out a Snape-style sneer. "It seems I didn't come away empty-handed. Is the shell made of gold?"
It tapped the egg with its claw.
Ding ding ding.
Crisp, melodious, the sound of money.
---
At the same time, in the temporary medical ward of the Minister's Office.
Young Dumbledore was holding a giant, magically conjured colorful crayon, gesturing at Voldemort's face.
"Albus... what are you doing?" Voldemort covered his nose (where a piece of skin had been snipped off by Snape) and backed away in terror. "Don't come near me with that! Is that for drawing Hagrid's eyebrows?!"
"Don't move, Tom." Young Dumbledore looked serious (actually suppressing laughter). "Your nose is missing a chunk right now; it looks like a bitten green apple. To maintain the Dark Lord's image, I've decided to give you some... 'Artistic Enhancement.'"
"I don't need art! I need real flesh!"
"Real flesh grows too slowly. Come on, bear with it."
Young Dumbledore waved his wand.
"Crayon Manifestation · Shin-chan Technique!"
A golden light flashed.
Voldemort felt a cold sensation on his nose, followed by an indescribable feeling of... roundness.
Quirrell tremblingly handed him a mirror.
Voldemort took a look.
And then.
He fell silent.
In the mirror, he was still the green-faced, fanged Dark Lord, still wearing his black high-collared trench coat.
But in the center of his face, where his nose used to be, there was now a pink, round, cartoon nose with two little nostrils.
It looked like it had been photoshopped straight off the face of Crayon Shin-chan and pasted onto Voldemort.
"What... what is this monstrosity?!" Voldemort screamed, but because the nose was too short, the sound came out as a pig-like "Oink—"
"Cute, isn't it?" Young Dumbledore admired his masterpiece. "It's called 'Gap Moe.' Pure-blood families eat this up nowadays. Look, as long as you wear this nose, people won't find you scary; they'll just find you... very pinchable."
Saying that, Young Dumbledore actually reached out and pinched the pink nose.
Boing.
The nose bounced back.
"I'm going to kill you! I'm going to kill you!!" Voldemort clawed frantically at the air, but the pink nose jiggled with his movements, making him look even more ridiculous.
Just then.
Snape pushed the door open.
He had come to check if Fudge was dead, but his eyes instantly landed on the pink nose on Voldemort's face.
Snape stopped in his tracks.
On that perpetually stoic face, a muscle twitched—a rare occurrence.
The corners of his mouth seemed to want to curl up, but he forcibly suppressed it.
"Mr. Riddle..." Snape cleared his throat, trying to mask his amusement with indifference. "Your new look is quite... 'creative.' Is this to hide the fact that you have no nose bridge? Or have you finally admitted you have the IQ of a three-year-old?"
"Shut up, Severus!" Voldemort roared, blowing a snot bubble in the process. "This is Albus's doing! Change it back, quickly!"
"Can't do that." Young Dumbledore interjected. "This is drawn with magic crayon; it lasts 24 hours. And... it has a little feature."
Dumbledore snapped his fingers.
The pink nose on Voldemort's face suddenly lit up, glowing pink and accompanied by cheerful music box melody.
"La la la~ I'm a happy little Dark Lord~ La la la~"
Voldemort broke down.
He tried to cover his nose with his hands, but the light leaked through his fingers, casting his entire face in a pink glow.
"Turn it off! Turn it off! My dignity! My terrifying aura is ruined!"
Snape finally couldn't hold it back and let out a very short snort of laughter.
"Hmph. It seems Mr. Riddle has finally found a role that suits him—'Mascot.' In that case, Ivan!"
Ivan, who had been hiding behind the door filming, popped out.
"Here! Professor!"
"Go put up the pre-order link for the 'Voldemort · Crayon Shin-chan Nose · Limited Edition Figure.'" Snape adjusted his collar and said indifferently. "Price it at 500 Galleons each. Also, tell Lucius if he doesn't buy ten, I'll shave him bald."
"Yes! Professor!" Ivan excitedly pulled out his phone. "What should the slogan be?"
Snape glanced at Voldemort, who was rolling on the floor trying to rub the nose off, a glint of vengeance in his eyes.
"Write this: 'Own it, and you own the right to laugh at the Dark Lord. Bonus: Includes a 'No Laughing Allowed' guarantee signed by Headmaster Dumbledore.'"
Just as Voldemort was about to self-destruct from shame.
A cacophony of screams came from outside the window.
"Ribbit! Ribbit!! Help! These dead bats are sucking my joy dry!!"
Everyone turned to look.
Several Dementors were carrying a golden cage, trying to fly toward Azkaban.
Inside the cage, Frog Grindelwald was kicking his legs frantically.
But strangely, the Dementors didn't look like they wanted to suck his soul. Instead, they looked pained, as if hearing some terrible noise.
"What's going on?" Snape frowned.
A Dementor flew through the window, dropped the cage on the floor, and spoke in a raspy voice that sounded almost pleading:
"Professor Snape... please... take this frog away... or kill it, we don't care..."
"What happened?" Young Dumbledore asked.
"He talks too much!" The Dementor pointed a trembling finger at Grindelwald in the cage. "He hadn't been in there ten minutes before he started lecturing the other prisoners on 'Pure-Blood Glory' and '100 Plans to Rule Muggles'! Those Death Eaters were so annoyed they collectively demanded a jailbreak! And... he tried to teach the Dementors how to tango! We don't have lips, how can we tango?!"
Inside the cage, Grindelwald (Frog Mode) showed no remorse. Instead, he croaked at Voldemort (Pink Nose Mode):
"Ribbit! Tom! Your nose is so sexy! Brighter than my gold wig! Should we debut as the 'Bruised & Battered' duo?!"
Voldemort looked at Grindelwald, then touched his glowing pink nose.
Two streams of clear tears flowed down his face.
"I can't live like this anymore."
Snape looked at the golden cage on the floor, then at the gold egg the Skrewt had just laid in his hand.
A bold idea formed in his mind.
"Ivan."
"Yes, Professor?"
"Go find Hagrid. Tell him I have a batch of very special 'pets' that need hatching." Snape looked at the gold egg, his eyes shining with the light of Monopoly. "If I'm not mistaken, what hatches from this egg... might be able to mass-produce hair tonic."
"What about Mr. Voldemort's nose?"
Snape glanced at the still-glowing Voldemort and said coldly:
"Let it shine. Perfect timing, the Ministry has an outdoor banquet tonight. Let him be a human streetlamp. Remember to charge for electricity."