Break Me || Harry Potter

Chapter 107 - Return

please see the end of the chapter for notes. 

"Ok, run that back again, one more time." I sat at the kitchen counter, combing through my wet hair with clean fingers. It had been a while since I'd had a shower, and seeing my three friends at the door had knocked the wind out of me. Of course they would've come here.

Ron was the first to lunge forward and wrap me in a hug. I smiled into his shoulder and let the fatigue hit me. They had clearly been gearing up to leave, but they assured me that their plan could wait for a shower and a meal. They wanted my help.

"Umbridge has the real locket and we have a stupid plan to get it back. Polyjuice potion, some kidnapping, a lot of bullshitting, the works," Ron said, quicker than I would've liked. I shot him a glare. He shrugged. "We don't have many other options."

"I am too tired to argue with you and to tell you how stupid of a plan it is," I muttered. "But of course I'll help," I finished, noticing that Harry was shifting un comfortably side to side.

His relief showed. Hermione gave me a smile and slide into the seat next to me at the table.

"We don't have a fourth ministry worker for you to, uh, impersonate, but I think we can do with some visual alterations. And maybe a fake wand," she gave a pointed look to my hands. I nodded.

"I can handle that. The priority is getting out of there without getting noticed. Polyjuice potion only gives you an hour — are you sure you have enough time?"

"We'll figure it out."

And with that confidence-inspiring speech, we packed up and set out into the streets of London. We were lucky to avoid a long commute, given 12 Grimmauld's proximity to the rather unorthodox entrance to the Ministry. I waited a block down the street while the others kindly stunned and kidnapped our three Ministry workers. Their names slipped my mind.

I joined them in the public restroom where my friends had changed into their disguises. While they choked down their polyjuice, I turned to the mirror. With some reluctance, I pulled out my knife and slashed off the majority of my long ponytail.

Ron made a strangled noise behind me, and I caught his wide-eyed gaze in the mirror and shrugged.

"It'll just get in the way anyway," I added. I should really consider getting an actual haircut, not just hacking it off with a knife.

With a gentle touch to my scalp, my wispy curls turned dusty blonde and floated around my eyes and ears. The back barely reached the nape of my neck. I shrugged off Hermione's denim jacket she had lended me, tucking it back into her purse, and pulled on the large dark duster we had found in 12 Grimmauld Place. In the pocket was a pathetic piece of wood we found in the park across the street and whittled into something resembling a wand. It was hilariously pathetic.

A few more flicks of the wrist and my cheekbones felt sharper, higher. It was a look, that was for sure. Blonde was not my color. I turned back towards the others, raising my eyebrows. Three unfamiliar faces stared back at me, but I knew who was who.

"How do I look?" I asked, a hint of teasing in my voice. Ron, well, unimportant Ministry dude #1, grimaced.

"Horrific. Never bleach your hair, long or short. You look like you crawled out of a sewer and haven't seen daylight in six years." At least his voice was the same.

"Cheerful. Love you too Ronny," I chimed. Hermione stifled a snort and Harry facepalmed.

Half an hour later, one toilet flush later, we stood in the hallway of the Ministry. People bustled about, shouldering past us in a hurry, sparing us hardly a glance. Good.