The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|123| Ministry of Magic

Dawn seemed to follow midnight with indecent haste.

I found Hermione downstairs in the kitchen. She was being served coffee and hot rolls by Kreacher and wearing the slightly manic expression that I associated with exam review.

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

After breakfast, we make our way onto the front step with immense caution. There were a couple of puffy-eyed Death Eaters watching the house from across the misty square.

Hermione Disapparated with Ron while I Disapparated, under the Cloak, with Harry into a tiny alleyway. It was as yet deserted, except for a couple of large bins; the first Ministry workers did not usually appear here until at least eight o'clock.

"Right then," said Hermione, checking her watch. "She ought to be here in about five minutes. When I've Stunned her —"

"Hermione, we know," I said sternly. "And I thought we were supposed to open the door before she got here?"

Hermione squealed.

"I nearly forgot! Stand back —"

She pointed her wand at the padlocked and heavily graffitied fire door beside us, which burst open with a crash. The dark corridor behind it led, as we knew from our careful scouting trips, into an empty theater. Hermione pulled the door back toward her, to make it look as though it was still closed.

"And now," she said, turning back to face us in the alleyway, "we put on the Cloak again —"

"— and we wait," Ron finished, throwing it over Hermione's and my head like a blanket over a birdcage and rolling his eyes at Harry.

Little more than a minute later, there was a tiny pop and a little Ministry witch with flyaway gray hair Apparated feet from us, blinking a little in the sudden brightness; the sun had just come out from behind a cloud. She barely had time to enjoy the unexpected warmth, however, before Hermione's silent Stunning Spell hit her in the chest and she toppled over.

"Nicely done, Hermione," said Ron, emerging from behind a bin beside the theater door.

Together, Harry and Ron carried the little witch into the dark passageway that led backstage. Hermione plucked a few hairs from the witch's head and added them to a flask of muddy Polyjuice Potion she had taken from the silver clutch. Ron was rummaging through the little witch's handbag.

"She's Mafalda Hopkirk," he said, reading a small card that identified their victim as an assistant in the Improper Use of Magic Office. "You'd better take this, Hermione, and here are the tokens."

Hermione drank the Polyjuice Potion, which was now a pleasant heliotrope color, and within seconds stood before them, the double of Mafalda Hopkirk. As she removed Mafalda's spectacles and put them on, Harry checked his watch.

"We're running late, Mr. Magical Maintenance will be here any second."

We hurried to close the door on the real Mafalda; Harry, Ron, and I threw the Invisibility Cloak over ourselves but Hermione remained in view, waiting. Seconds later there was another pop, and a small, ferrety-looking wizard appeared before them.

"Oh, hello, Mafalda."

Hermione walked with the little old wizard and gave him one of the Puking Pastilles; the effect was instantaneous. Hermione groaned as the wizard Disapparated, while he puked, and gave Ron his Polyjuice.