𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 | √

⎡86⎦

That night, we made a plan. We did not get to bed until late that evening, after spending hours going over and over the plan until we could recite it to each other. We woke up the next morning groggily but ready for the task at hand. Hermione and I packed our bags with stuff.

"Robes," I said under my breath, acknowledging their presence with a nod and continuing to poke around in my bag, "Polyjuice Potion . . . Decoy Detonators . . . You should each take a couple just in case. . . . Puking Pastilles, Nosebleed Nougat, Extendable Ears . . ."

We gulped down our breakfast, then set off for the streets of London. Together, we Disapparated, and after the usual brief spell of darkness and near suffocation, we found ourselves in the tiny alleyway where the first phase of our plan was scheduled to take place. It was deserted, except for a couple of large bins; the first Ministry workers did not usually appear here until at least eight o'clock.

We put Ron on the side of the building spying for our prey. Harry, Hermione, and I stood in a warehouse waiting for a signal. Harry stepped back into the warehouse after getting the sign from, Ron. It was nearly 8 o'clock. Hermione had her wand ready while Harry and I got ready to catch the body. When the woman passed the entrance, Hermione shot her silent Stunning Spell which hit her in the chest, and she toppled over into our arms.

We continued this process with three more people. Two men and one woman. When we had all of them together, sitting, and sleeping, against the wall, I began to explain who everyone was

"She's Mafalda Hopkirk," I said, pointing at the woman on the far right. "She works in the Improper Use of Magic Office. Next to her, is Reg Cattermole, he serves in the Magical Maintenance Department."

I moved my hand over people as I talked. "He's..." I faltered slightly. "He's Albert Runcorn. He's an investigator of alleged Muggleborns." I took a breath. "Now lastly, she's Averta (A/N: Let's pretend that's her name) Edgecombe. She's the mother of Marietta.

"You mean Marietta like Cho's friend?" Hermione asked. I nodded.

Hermione plucked a few hairs from the each one's head and handed them to each of us. She stood up again.

"Right, "Remember what we said. Don't speak to anybody, Unless it is absolutely necessary." She handed us separate shot glasses that she had taken from the beaded bag. "Just ... Try and act normal. Do what everybody else is doing. Do that, and with a bit of luck, we'll get inside. And then —"

"It gets really tricky" Harry finished.

"Correct," said Hermione.

"This is completely mental," I added

"Completely."

"The world is mental," Ron finished, "Come on, we've got a Horcrux to find."

We filled our glasses with the muddy Polyjuice Potion, and once the painful transformation was complete, I was multiple inches smaller than my actual height, and, horribly stout.

After changing our clothes, we made our way out of the warehouse, shoulder to shoulder. Fifty yards along the crowded pavement spiked black railings were flanking two flights of steps, one labeled GENTLEMEN, the other LADIES.

"See you two in a moment, then," said Hermione nervously, and together, we tottered off down the steps to ladies.

We descended into what appeared to be an ordinary underground public toilet, tiled in grimy black and white. With one last glance, we let ourselves into adjoining cubicles. To my left and right came the sound of flushing. I climbed onto the toilet and peered over the cubicle wall at Hermione looked around nervously.