Immediately after Mundungus had been allowed to leave, Potter began planning. Scheming was a better word, actually, because when he finally explained his thoughts to us it was quite possibly the stupidest idea he'd ever had. And Potter had come up with plenty of stupid ideas.
Essentially he wanted us to break into the Ministry disguised as regular workers, find Umbridge, steal the locket from either her office or, in the worse case, from her neck, and then leave without being arrested. All while also being the four most wanted teenagers in the entire wizarding world.
The only reassurance for me was that the chances of Draco or my father being there were extremely low. I knew they weren't Voldemort's favorite people right now, primarily because of me, and they would most likely be kept in Malfoy Manor.
Trapped in their own home, just as I had been my entire life. I couldn't help the grim satisfaction that came whenever I considered that.
After Potter had laid out his entire insane idea to us, the only thing left to do was prepare. And prepare we did, because there was absolutely no room for mistakes. One slip up could give away our entire, already dangerously risky, cover, and then I didn't even want to imagine what would happen to us.
To Potter especially. Would he be given up to Voldemort? The Death Eaters had complete control over the Ministry, which meant any security that caught us would immediately hand us over to them. It was unspoken, but we all knew that he was in the most danger. His life was on the line.
It started with the four of us taking turns Apparating from the top step of the house, being careful to stay just inside the house's protection so the Death Eater's that were constantly standing outside wouldn't see us, and milling around the Ministry's entrance all day to gather as much information as we could get. It was also helpful that Weasley and I already knew so much from our fathers.
Every last detail was important. We needed to know everything—how to properly respond to Ministry officials, how to walk around and look like we were urgently heading somewhere, and at what time certain Ministry workers left their homes.
Hermione had created the beginnings of a map, mostly based off the rough knowledge Weasley and I had given her, and there were notes hung all over the walls of the kitchen. It constantly looked like a bomb went off, and the mess annoyed Kreacher endlessly.
Ever since Potter had given Kreacher the fake locket with Regulus's note inside it, there was no point in keeping it anymore, the house elf treated us like royalty. Potter technically was who the sorry old elf served now since Sirius had left him the house, but Kreacher hadn't started acting like it until now.
No one could say they were complaining, though. There was steaming coffee on the table every morning, and hot meals every evening. The house seemed slightly less old and empty, like someone had gotten around to dusting the place, and everyone's mood always lifted when they were greeted with a polite elf instead of a cranky one.
After weeks of making sure every last part of the plan was engraved into our brains, it was time to break into the Ministry under not only Umbridge's, but Voldemort's nose too. Well, does Voldemort even really have a nose? I thought as we Apparated into an alley in Muggle London.
We were facing certain arrest, capture, and death, and I was questioning Lord Voldemort's facial features. Maybe I had been stuck in the same house as Weasley for so long that his terrible humor was rubbing off on me.
I shook my head and focused on who I was supposed to be looking out for: Mafalda Hopkirk, an innocent Ministry witch that we were about to turn Hermione into. Weasley bent down on the sidewalk to tie his shoe, which was the signal that she was coming, and I stuck my wand out around the corner.
I cast a silent Stunning spell, Potter caught her as she fell sideways into the alley, and then he sat her down against a foul-smelling dumpster. We did this three more times to three more Ministry workers, and soon we had two middle aged men and two grey-haired woman in front of us, eyes glazed over and heads lolling onto their chests.
Along with Mafalda we Stunned a woman named Louise Dankworth, and two men whose identification cards read "Albert Runcorn" and "Reg Cattermole."
My heart beat faster as Hermione handed each of us a bubbling vial of pre-made Polyjuice Potion, a hair from each of the heads of the worker we would be impersonating in all of them. Mine was a muted lavender color, which was at least better than Potter's weird, pepper-shaded grey.
Hermione took a deep breath and looked at each of us. "Right. Remember what we said. Don't speak to anyone unless absolutely necessary." She handed each of us a coin with an ornate "M" carved into the middle. There had been a few in each of the Ministry worker's pockets, and they were needed to show proof before entry. "Do what everyone else does. If you act normal, then with a bit of luck we'll get inside. After that..."
"It gets really fun," Potter finished for her.
"Yeah," she grimaced.
We all stood next to each other for a moment, staring silently at the people we had Stunned and holding our Polyjuice Potions to our chests.
"This is completely mental," I said.
"Completely," Potter agreed.
"The world's mental," Weasley said matter-of-factly. We all turned and looked at him with raised eyebrows. "What?" He asked defensively. "We've got a Horcrux to find."
"On three," Hermione sighed. "One... two... three."
I tipped my head back and drank the entire vial of potion in one swallow. I learned the hard way, from multiple past experiences, that the easiest way to drink Polyjuice Potion was to make it go as quickly as possible. If you take a small sip, you're never taking another one.
Less then five minutes later I walked out into the sunny Muggle street as Louise Dankworth, respectable Ministry employee. I could have laughed at the irony. To disobey my father I was dressing up for the part that my father had always wanted me to play.
Hermione and I walked next to Potter and Weasley all the way to the end of the street until we were forced to split. There were two lines for the toilets, and Hermione and I joined the female one. There was absolutely no way we were in the wrong place—dozens of Ministry workers that each of us had seen on our trips were here. I just hoped that there wasn't a secret word or code to get in.
The line went quickly, and the two of us stepped into neighboring stalls. I looked around for any hint of what we were supposed to do to transport ourselves to the Ministry, but there was nothing except a metal trashcan and depressing, faded blue tiles on every possible surface. Someone impatiently knocked on my door.
Then Hermione's head peeked over the wall of my stall. "We have to flush ourselves in," she hissed.
"What?" I demanded.
"Step into the toilet and flush yourself," she grimaced, then disappeared.
I swallowed my disgust and stepped into the toilet bowl. To my surprise, Louise's shoes stayed completely dry. I took a deep breath, unbelieving of what I was doing, squeezed my eyes shut tight, and pulled the chain hanging next to me.
There was a whooshing sound, a swirl of cold air around me, and then suddenly I was stumbling out of one of the hundreds of fireplaces lining the Ministry's main walls. Normally they were reserved for people who came to work using Floo Powder, but I guess their purpose had been changed to toilet transportation. Who knew? Maybe it would catch on.
I followed the steady flow of people, looking for Mafalda's tight bun and patterned jacket. I finally spotted her standing in front of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, and didn't understand why until I got closer.
The normal gold statue in the middle—the one of the wizard, the witch, the centaur, and the house elf—had been replaced by a black stone one of a ginormous wizard and witch sitting side-by-side on two delicately crafted thrones. Around the base of the statue the thrones were being held up by thousands of naked, grotesque human figures with faces silently screaming in agony.
I instantly knew that they were meant to signify Muggles, and felt like throwing up all over that smug wizard's giant-sized shoe. Underneath the entire thing was a silver plaque that read "Magic is Might."
I didn't know how long Hermione and I stood there before a tall, dark man strode over to us. I was about to frantically make up some excuse for why we were standing in the middle of the Ministry staring at this horrible statue when Potter's voice came from the man's mouth.
"Are those..." he began hesitantly.
"Muggles," Hermione nodded. "In their-" Her voice broke. "In their rightful place."
"Got to tell you, I'm starting to freak out a bit," Weasley's voice came from a shorter, dumpier man that stopped next to Hermione.
"How long did you say this bottle of Polyjuice Potion would last, Hermione?" Potter asked.
"I didn't," she winced.
And on that cheery note, we left for the elevator. We decided that it was our best option since nothing we needed was on this floor, and people would start to notice the four random Ministry workers who probably never spoke to each other huddled together in front of a fountain.
Just as the door began to close, a Death Eater that was extremely familiar to me put a hand out to stop it. Yaxley. He and my father had been close the last time I saw them together.
"Cattermole," Yaxley barked. "It's still raining inside my office. That's two days now."
We all froze. "Have you tried an umbrella?" Weasley offered meekly.
"You do realize I'm going downstairs, don't you, Cattermole?" Yaxley asked icily, his expression unwavering. "To interrogate your wife? Now, if my wife's blood status were in doubt and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement needed a job doing..." He raised his eyebrows challengingly. "I think I might just make that a priority."
Weasley, or Cattermole, whatever, gulped and nodded.
"You have one hour," Yaxley said drily, glancing at Potter briefly and giving him a curt nod before pulling his hand back. The elevator doors slammed shut, and we went shooting backwards.
"Merlin, what am I gonna do?" Weasley asked hopelessly. "My wife's all alone downstairs."
"Weasley," I sighed. "You don't have a wife."
"Oh. Right."
The elevator stopped at level two, and Weasley started to get off. Then he stopped and turned to Hermione, face desperate. "How does one get an office to stop raining again?"
"Try Finite Incantatem," Hermione replied weakly.
Weasley stepped off and mumbled the spell all the way down the hallway. "Finite Incantatem. Finite Incantem. Wait, no. Finite Incan-ta-tem. Okay. And if that doesn't work?" He turned back around, but the elevator dropped again with a deafening rattle.
We were hurled back to level one, and Potter looked at us uneasily. "I'd say if we don't locate Umbridge within the hour, we go find Ron and come back another day. Deal?"
"Yes," Hermione and I agreed simultaneously.
Then the door screeched open again, and I quickly turned my gasp into a light cough when we were met with Umbridge herself, holding a small pink clipboard and wearing the same self-important look on her face.
"Ah, Mafalda. Louise," she greeted us, the small amount of warmth in her words not sounding very genuine. "Travers sent you both, did he? Good. We'll go straight down." She stepped into the elevator shaft with us, her small heels clicking loudly on the polished floor.
There was a moment of severe silence, and then Umbridge turned her head towards Potter. "Albert, aren't you getting out?" She asked expectantly.
Potter slowly and awkwardly walked into the hallway, sending a quick look back at Hermione and I before we were carried back into the dark. I had no idea what my expression must have been, but I forced it into something almost bored before Umbridge looked at me again.
Just another day at the Ministry, standing in the same elevator as the woman we were trying to steal a piece of Voldemort's soul from.
Hermione and I tried to speak to each other through our eyes, but it was pretty much useless because all I was getting from her was "PANIC."
Eventually we reached the courtroom levels, and when Hermione and I hesitated to follow Umbridge she stared at us suspiciously. "Come on, let's go. There's no need to be sluggish." We reluctantly obliged.
It seemed we had been following her for ages, passing so many smaller hallways that branched off to more court and trial areas, when finally she turned us down one of them. It was dark and the tiles on the floor were so sleek they were slippery. Eventually we reached the end, and I blinked as I fully took in what I was seeing.
I had only seen a Ministry courtroom once. I was with my father, and it had just been a glance. Now I was standing in the middle of one, and I fully appreciated how huge it was. The floors looked just as unnecessarily shiny as the last ones, and there were two unnaturally large fires on either side of the judge's chair to throw off heat and light.
Most of the seats where the Wizengamont sat were full, but whoever was being tried today had not entered yet. I got another smack of shock in the face when Umbridge gestured impatiently for us to follow her. She sat in the judge's chair, I sat on her right, and Hermione was on her left. I hastily reached for some papers to shuffle through to give the illusion that I was doing something, and Hermione did the same.
Over the next five minutes the last of the Wizengamont filed in, and my mind raced. I was so close to the old bat, but everything I thought of to steal the Horcrux off her was too risky. It was hanging from her neck right there, clashing horribly with her pink wool dress, and I could do nothing without giving myself away.
Once everyone was properly seated and in order, Umbridge cast a Patronus. A small, bright white cat appeared on her desk, immediately beginning to pace back and forth and hiss at anyone who looked at it. I was confused until the doors were thrown open and two dementors floated in, carrying a thin, pale woman between them.
She was crying softly, and I could hear her hiccups from all the way up at the judge's table. I felt sympathy for the woman, and then a shot of cold dread ran through me like a knife. This wasn't a normal trial for a normal crime. It was one of the interrogations they were doing on people that were believed to be Muggle-born. I glanced at Hermione to see if she had realized the same thing, and her petrified face gave me my answer.
"Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?" Umbridge asked, sounding almost excited as she glanced at the documents in front of her. Oh God. This was Weasley's wife.
"Yes," Mrs. Cattermole squeaked.
"Of 27 Chislehurst Gardens, Great Tolling, Evesham?" Umbridge continued.
"Yes," Mrs. Cattermole replied again, just as the door cracked open. Everyone else was paying attention to the pitiful sight before them, but I found myself focused on the Ministry workers Potter and Weasley were impersonating slipping inside. Weasley was throughly soaked.
"Mother to Maisie, Ellie, and Alfred?" Umbridge read.
At this, the Mrs. Cattermole burst into louder tears. "Please, I told them I would be coming home tonight. I need to go home to my babies tonight."
My heart was breaking for this woman, but Umbridge's cruel smile only grew, and her Patronus glowed brighter. "Mary Elizabeth Cattermole, your wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today. Is that this wand?" She held up a thin rosewood wand. Without waiting for an answer she said, "Would you please tell the court from which witch or wizard you took this wand?"
"But I didn't take it," Mrs. Cattermole said pleadingly, her entire body shaking. "I got it in Diagon Alley at Ollivanders when I was eleven." Her voice broke. "It chose me."
Umbridge slowly leaned over her desk and simply said, "You're lying."
Burning hot anger flushed all the way up my neck. I fought to keep my face neutral, but it was impossible, and I knew Hermione was failing at the same task.
"Wands only choose witches, and you are not a witch," Umbridge announced, like she was proving a well researched point. Potter's, or I guess Runcorn's, expression was pure disgust. Weasley looked terrified for his wife that he had never seen in his life until now. And I didn't even dare to look at Hermione.
"But I am," Umbridge added, a hint of the same giggle she'd had all the time at Hogwarts in her voice.
Mrs. Cattermole buried her face in her hands and wept. Potter slowly slid his wand from his coat sleeve into his palm. I nearly missed it, but Umbridge certainly didn't.
"What on earth are you doing, Albert?" She asked, sounding offended that anyone would dare interrupt her fun.
Runcorn's face began to bubble, slowly turning back into Potter's. "You're lying, Delores," Potter said quietly, but his voice echoed around the entire room. "And one mustn't tell lies. Stupefy!"
Umbridge let out a shriek as the spell hit her directly in the chest. Weasley hit Yaxley with another spell, and I ripped the locket off Umbridge's neck before sprinting down onto the floor with Hermione. I threw it to Potter, who now looked completely like himself again, and he caught it on the tip of his finger.
"Oh! It's Harry Potter!" Mrs. Cattermole exclaimed as Weasley grabbed his wife's arm and dragged her after us.
"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Weasley asked distractedly, looked back at the still conscious, and now furious, Yaxley. "This'll be one to tell the kids."
I hadn't realized that Umbridge's Patronus had vanished when she got Stupefied until a hoard of dementors swooped down on us. We sprinted to the elevator as they clawed through the air after us, and Potter just managed to slam the door shut before they could follow.
He threw himself against us with his arms spread wide as dozens of blackened, decaying hands grasped at us violently. I was never more grateful to experience the stomach-flopping sensation of being whipped backwards to a new floor of the Ministry.
By the time we reached the main level again, Hermione and I looked back to normal too. Weasley was the only one who still looked like his Ministry worker, and Mrs. Cattermole was clinging to his shoulder anxiously.
As the door slid open, all we could do was duck our heads down and pray that everyone was too busy with where they were going to notice Harry Potter and his most wanted friends. I swallowed down the lump in my throat as we pushed through the crowds, cursing my unmistakable Malfoy hair.
Finally Weasley turned to Mrs. Cattermole and said exasperatedly, "Mary, go home. Get the kids. I'll meet you there. We have to get out of the country, understand?" When Mrs. Cattermole didn't respond, Weasley practically shook her. "Mary, do as I say!"
She nodded, bottom lip quivering, and then she grabbed Weasley's face and kissed him. I would have burst out laughing if I wasn't worried we were about to get noticed and murdered, especially when Weasley transformed back into himself halfway through the kiss.
Mrs. Cattermole pulled away, and immediately stumbled back when she saw that her husband had been replaced with a seventeen year old boy. Weasley looked like he was deciding between running away or crying.
Then the real Mr. Cattermole pushed through Potter, Hermione and I, staring blankly up at his wife and Weasley. "Mary?" He asked. "Who's that?" Mrs. Cattermole's eyes were still glued to Weasley's face, and she gestured weakly to her throat as if she was signifying that her voice wasn't working.
"Uh... long story," Weasley managed. "Nice meeting you."
Then from behind us someone shouted, "It's Harry Potter!" Weasley hurried back to the three of us, and soon we were all sprinting through the Ministry. Choruses of "Harry Potter?" and "There he is!" Followed us as we ran to the nearest fireplace.
I looked to the left, and then to the right. There were security officials on either side of us. That meant straight ahead, and if that didn't work then we were out of options. Our situation got a million times worse when Yaxley suddenly emerged, shoving people to the side to reach us, face livid.
He started shooting spells at us, hitting the Magic is Might statue and sending shards of stone flying everywhere. My heart pounded and my legs ached as I ran faster than I had in my entire life.
Potter slashed his wand through the air frantically, and Undesirable No. 1 fliers with his name and face on them formed a tornado of paper.
One of Yaxley's spells flew so close to my face I felt it burn my cheek.
The gates to the fireplaces closest to us began to shut with repeating clangs.
Potter dived into the last grate left open, Hermione and Weasley followed, and I jumped through last.
There were nails biting into my arm, the deafening sound of Apparation, and then pain. So much pain. Everything in my body screamed—my lungs, my skin, my brain. My body jolted as my back hit something hard, and then I blacked out.