—— ϟ ——
"She got away My Lord."
"She got away?" The man hissed, his voice icy and sinister. "Were you dropped as a child, Rockwood? How hard is it to get a girl!" Voldemort yelled, making the other man whimper.
"Her magic. My Lord, she set my hand on fire." Rockwood tried.
"I'm sorry, My Lord. I will get her next time."
"No. You're done."
"My Lord?"
"This was your only chance to redeem yourself, Rockwood, and you've disappointed me. You're done."
Noel woke up in a cold sweat, she didn't understand why she was seeing Voldemort again. Displeased it seemed like she ruined whatever redemption Rockwood was building himself. Unable to sleep, Noel got up and shuffled out of her bedroom to make herself some tea. The only good thing about Noel's family living in a forest in Wales is the fact that they can't be seen easily, or followed.
Mr Weasley had told Remus a couple of days prior that they were being watched by Death Eaters. They were hoping Harry would turn up and ask them for aid. It seemed like they didn't know about his connection to Noel, so they were after her for a completely different reason. Noel fleetingly wondered why, she didn't flaunt her magic, so how they learned about it, puzzled her.
Gazing out the kitchen window, she watched as the trees swayed in the summer breeze. Noel felt antsy, she needed something to do. She was part of the Order but it seemed like no one was putting her up for any jobs. Noel was no fighter by any means but she was quick on her feet.
With a sense of dread she realized that she wouldn't be able to do anything without a disguise if Death Eaters were looking for her.
Noel dumped the remainder of her tea, ran to her bedroom, put on a cloak and hat and quickly Disapperated to the nearby shop.
She came back an hour later, she passed by Theo's room and her dads were they're loud snoring echoed in the quiet house. She shushed Hades who's nails scratched the wood floor and pushed him into the bathroom.
Noel stared at herself in the mirror, her freckles standing out, and her eyes brightened. Taking a shaky breath in, she grabbed a pair of scissors and cut her once waist-length hair to her mid-back. "Noel, that took you three years to grow." She muttered to herself.
She knew she could've dyed her hair with magic but the idea of doing it herself, with her own two hands, it gave her a bit of a serotonin boost. So reading the instructions carefully and following every step, it only took Noel from being honey brown to a blonde.
"Holy shit."
She didn't even recognize herself. "What do you think Hay?" She asked, turning to look at Hades who barked. "Yeah, it'll take some time getting used to." She nodded sympathetically.
Swinging the door open, she came face to face with a bleary eyes Theo who screamed when he saw her, Noel screamed too, startled by his yell.
"Why are you yelling?"
"Your hair!"
Noel moved aside, so the two could switch places, Theo left the door open so the two could talk while he brushed his teeth, he looked at the bathroom which was still a mess and raised an eyebrow.
"Why have you decided to go blonde? Is this some sort of breakup change or something?"
"No, my unsavory love life has nothing to do with me changing my hair."
"And cutting it."
"I did it because I wanted to go out and the Death Eaters knew I was a brunette, now I'm a blonde with curtain bangs."
"You look...so... different."
"Is it bad?" Noel asked, now feeling unsure.
"No, it'll just take some time getting used to."
"Why are you two yelling at 7 in the morning?" Remus yawned, he looked at Noel and took in her hair, she and Theo shared a look at his silence, after a few beats of silence he nodded his head, "I don't even want to know."
On September first, a delivery own, dropped off the Daily Prophet. A large picture of a familiar, hook-nosed, black-haired man stared up at them all, beneath a headline that read:
SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER
Noel snatched the paper and began reading aloud.
" 'Severus Snape, long-standing Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was today appointed headmaster in the most important of several staffing changes at the ancient school. Following the resignation of the previous Muggle Studies teacher, Alecto Carrow will take over the post while her brother, Amycus, fills the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
"'I welcome the opportunity to uphold our finest Wizarding traditions and values —'
"Merlin's pants! How could— what kind of— this is outrageous!" Noel shrieked.
"But the teachers, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn, they knew what Snape did..."
"They can't do anything, Teddy." Remus sighed heavily, "If the Ministry and Voldemort are behind Snape it'll be a choice between staying and teaching, or a nice few years in Azkaban — and that's if they're lucky. I reckon they'll stay to try and protect the students."
Noel chewed on her lip anxiously, Ginny, Neville, Luna and Lucy were probably on their way to Hogwarts right now.
Noel riffled through the newspaper, she skipped past Rita's section where she gave small excerpts from her book about Dumbledore and stopped at the section that had Harry's face plastered in the back cover, a 10,000 galleon bounty over his head.
Below it, was a picture of Noel, who was wanted for 5,000 galleons.
'Noel Lupin, daughter of registered Werewolf, Remus Lupin is wanted for the murder of Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, who had died on July 27th 1997. Additional, she has been suspected of possessing un-worldly powers, a side effect of being a result of werewolf breeding'
Noel scrunched her face up and balled up the newspaper, her hands felt hot and the next thing she knew the paper caught fire.
"This is so stupid! I'm honestly a little offended that Harry and I don't have the same price. How did it get this bad so quickly?"
"To be honest it probably took them over a year to get as many death eaters into the Ministry and once Voldemort knew that there was no threat other than the Minister he attacked."
"Are you going on any missions soon?" Noel asked, making Remus some tea.
"Yes, I still have to go see the colonies, I don't want to leave but I'm making progress and the Order reckons I stay with them."
"But Death Eaters are after Noel, you can't just leave us."
"I know, I know. I don't want to ask Molly or Arthur, they're being watched the most." Remus sighed.
"Aren't there other safe houses?" Theo asked.
"I don't want to be locked in a house! I want to do something, oh c'mon, I can help!" Noel argued, "please, Dad, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself."
"It's different when you're wanted by Death Eaters and as it turns out, the Ministry too."
"I didn't change my hair for nothing! I won't fight, but I'm not going to stay locked up when I have the ability to help those who get injured. There's no point in hiding my powers anymore."
Remus took a deep breath in and fiddled with the tea cup in his hand. "I don't think there's much for you to do, Noel. You can't work at St. Mungos and if you want to help the injured they either have to come to you, or you find them."
"The morning after the full, you come get me. You come get me, send me to the colony and I will help them. If they see that people are helping they're more likely to be on our side then you won't be gone too long. Dad, I'm not going to wither away here like a soldier's wife. I refuse." Noel said, crossing her arms and looking at him, refusing to let him say no.
"Andromeda's house is where the Order members go for injuries. I'll send her a letter."
"That won't be awkward at all." Theo said, referring to the fact that Remus and Tonks were no longer speaking because of what happened in the hospital wing, months prior.
"Yes, thank you Teddy." Remus rolled his eyes, taking a sip from the tea in front of him.
"You're welcome." Theo nodded.
Dawn seemed to follow midnight with indecent haste.
"You look terrible," was Ron's greeting as he entered the room to wake Harry.
"Not for long," said Harry, yawning.
They gulped down their breakfast, then set off upstairs, Kreacher bowing them out and promising to have a steak-and-kidney pie ready for them when they returned.
"Bless him," said Ron fondly, "and when you think I used to fantasize about cutting off his head and sticking it on the wall."
They made their way onto the front step with immense caution: They could see a couple of puffy-eyed Death Eaters watching the house from across the misty square.
Hermione Disapparated with Ron first, then came back for Harry.
After the usual brief spell of darkness and near suffocation, Harry found himself in the tiny alleyway where the first phase of their plan was scheduled to take place. 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 pulled the door back toward her, to make it look as though it was still closed.
"And now," she said, turning back to face the other two in the alleyway, "we put on the Cloak again —"
"— and we wait," Ron finished, throwing it over Hermione's 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 them, 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.
Together they 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 beaded bag. 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."
He passed her several small golden coins, all embossed with the letters M.O.M., which he had taken from the witch's purse.
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."
They hurried to close the door on the real Mafalda; Harry and Ron threw the Invisibility Cloak over themselves but Hermione remained in view, waiting. Seconds later there was another pop, and a small, ferrety-looking wizard appeared before them.
"Oh, hello, Mafalda."
"Hello!" said Hermione in a quavery voice. "How are you today?"
"Not so good, actually," replied the little wizard, who looked thoroughly downcast.
As Hermione and the wizard headed for the main road, Harry and Ron crept along behind them.
"I'm sorry to hear you're under the weather," said Hermione, talking firmly over the little wizard as he tried to expound upon his problems; it was essential to stop him from reaching the street. "Here, have a sweet."
"Eh? Oh, no thanks —"
"I insist!" said Hermione aggressively, shaking the bag of pastilles in his face. Looking rather alarmed, the little wizard took one.
The effect was instantaneous. The moment the pastille touched his tongue, the little wizard started vomiting so hard that he did not even notice as Hermione yanked a handful of hairs from the top of his head.
"Oh dear!" she said, as he splattered the alley with sick.
"Perhaps you'd better take the day off!"
"No — no!" He choked and retched, trying to continue on his way despite being unable to walk straight. "I must — today — must go —"
"But that's just silly!" said Hermione, alarmed. "You can't go to work in this state — I think you ought to go to St. Mungo's and get them to sort you out!"
The wizard had collapsed, heaving, onto all fours, still trying to crawl toward the main street.
"You simply can't go to work like this!" cried Hermione.
At last he seemed to accept the truth of her words. Using a repulsed Hermione to claw his way back into a standing position, he turned on the spot and vanished, leaving nothing behind but the bag Ron had snatched from his hand as he went and some flying chunks of vomit.
"Urgh," said Hermione, holding up the skirts of her robe to avoid the puddles of sick. "It would have made much less mess to Stun him too."
"Yeah," said Ron, emerging from under the cloak holding the wizard's bag, "but I still think a whole pile of unconscious bodies would have drawn more attention. Keen on his job, though, isn't he? Chuck us the hair and the potion, then."
Within two minutes, Ron stood before them, as small and ferrety as the sick wizard, and wearing the navy blue robes that had been folded in his bag.
"Weird he wasn't wearing them today, wasn't it, seeing how much he wanted to go? Anyway, I'm Reg Cattermole, according to the label in the back."
"Now wait here," Hermione told Harry, who was still under the Invisibility Cloak, "and we'll be back with some hairs for you."
He had to wait ten minutes, but it seemed much longer to Harry, skulking alone in the sick-splattered alleyway beside the door concealing the Stunned Mafalda. Finally Ron and Hermione reappeared.
"We don't know who he is," Hermione said, passing Harry several curly black hairs, "but he's gone home with a dreadful nosebleed! Here, he's pretty tall, you'll need bigger robes..."
She pulled out a set of the old robes Kreacher had laundered for them, and Harry retired to take the potion and change.
Once the painful transformation was complete he was more than six feet tall and, from what he could tell from his well-muscled arms, powerfully built. He also had a beard. Stowing the Invisibility Cloak and his glasses inside his new robes, he rejoined the other two.
"Blimey, that's scary," said Ron, looking up at Harry, who now towered over him.
"Take one of Mafalda's tokens," Hermione told Harry, "and let's go, it's nearly nine."
They stepped out of the alleyway together. Fifty yards along the crowded pavement there were spiked black railings flanking two flights of steps, one labeled gentlemen, the other ladies.
"See you in a moment, then," said Hermione nervously, and she tottered off down the steps to ladies. Harry and Ron joined a number of oddly dressed men descending into what appeared to be an ordinary underground public toilet, tiled in grimy black and white.
"Psst!" said a voice, and he looked around to see a wispy little witch and the ferrety wizard from Magical Maintenance gesturing to him from over beside the statue. Harry hastened to join them.
"You got in all right, then?" Hermione whispered to Harry.
"No, he's still stuck in the bog," said Ron.
"Oh, very funny... It's horrible, isn't it?" she said to Harry, who was staring up at the statue. "Have you seen what they're sitting on?
Harry looked more closely and realized that what he had thought were decoratively carved thrones were actually mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.
"Muggles," whispered Hermione. "In their rightful place. Come on, let's get going."
They joined the stream of witches and wizards moving toward the golden gates at the end of the hall, looking around as surreptitiously as possible, but there was no sign of the distinctive figure of Dolores Umbridge.
After Kreacher had found Mundungus a few weeks ago, he had confessed to the trio that he had stolen the locket from Kreacher's nook to sell it but was stopped by Umbride who asked if he had a license to sell magic goods. He didn't of course but was let off the hook when Umbride caught sight of the locket, which she took from him.
Panic pulsed in the pit of his stomach. As he passed gleaming wooden door after gleaming wooden door, each bearing a small plaque with the owner's name and occupation upon it, the might of the Ministry, its complexity, its impenetrability, seemed to force itself upon him so that the plan he had been carefully concocting with Ron and Hermione over the past four weeks seemed laughably childish.
They had concentrated all their efforts on getting inside without being detected: They had not given a moment's thought to what they would do if they were forced to separate. Now Hermione was stuck in court proceedings, which would undoubtedly last hours; Ron was struggling to do magic that Harry was sure was beyond him, a woman's liberty possibly depending on the outcome; and he, Harry, was wandering around on the top floor when he knew perfectly well that his quarry had just gone down in the lift.
He stopped walking, leaned against a wall, and tried to decide what to do. The silence pressed upon him: There was no bustling or talk or swift footsteps here; the purple-carpeted corridors were as hushed as though the Muffliato charm had been cast over the place.
Her office must be up here, Harry thought.
It seemed most unlikely that Umbridge would keep her jewelry in her office, but on the other hand it seemed foolish not to search it to make sure. He therefore set off along the corridor again, passing nobody but a frowning wizard who was murmuring instructions to a quill that floated in front of him, scribbling on a trail of parchment.
Halfway along the next corridor he emerged into a wide, open space where a dozen witches and wizards sat in rows at small desks not unlike school desks, though much more highly polished and free from graffiti. Harry paused to watch them, for the effect was quite mesmerizing. They were all waving and twiddling their wands in unison, and squares of colored paper were flying in every direction like little pink kites.
Then the young witch said, still waving and twirling her wand, "Will the old hag be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?"
"Careful," said the wizard beside her, glancing around nervously; one of his pages slipped and fell to the floor.
"What, has she got magic ears as well as an eye, now?"
The witch glanced toward the shining mahogany door facing the space full of pamphlet-makers; Harry looked too, and rage reared in him like a snake. Where there might have been a peephole on a Muggle front door, a large, round eye with a bright blue iris had been set into the wood — an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Moody.
He strode straight over to the door to examine the eye. It was not moving: It gazed blindly upward, frozen. The plaque beneath it read:
Dolores Umbridge
Senior Undersecretary to the Minister
Below that, a slightly shinier new plaque read:
Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission
Harry looked back at the dozen pamphlet-makers: He therefore withdrew from an inner pocket an odd object with little waving legs and a rubber-bulbed horn for a body. Crouching down beneath the Cloak, he placed the Decoy Detonator on the ground.
It scuttled away at once through the legs of the witches and wizards in front of him. A few moments later, during which Harry waited with his hand upon the doorknob, there came a loud bang and a great deal of acrid black smoke billowed from a corner.
Harry turned the doorknob, stepped into Umbridge's office, and closed the door behind him.
The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth. Behind Mad-Eye's eye, a telescopic attachment enabled Umbridge to spy on the workers on the other side of the door. Harry took a look through it and saw that they were all still gathered around the Decoy Detonator. He wrenched the telescope out of the door, leaving a hole behind, pulled the magical eyeball out of it, and placed it in his pocket. Then he turned to face the room again, raised his wand, and murmured, "Accio Locket."
Nothing happened, but he had not expected it to; no doubt Umbridge knew all about protective charms and spells. He therefore hurried behind her desk and began pulling open the drawers. He saw quills and notebooks and Spellotape; enchanted paper clips that coiled snakelike from their drawer and had to be beaten back; a fussy little lace box full of spare hair bows and clips; but no sign of a locket.
There was a filing cabinet behind the desk: Harry set to searching it. Like Filch's filing cabinets at Hogwarts, it was full of folders, each labeled with a name. It was not until Harry reached the bottommost drawer that he saw something to distract him from his search: Mr. Weasley's file.
He pulled it out and opened it.
ARTHUR WEASLEY:
Blood Status: Pureblood, but with unacceptable pro- Muggle leanings. Known member of the
Order of the Phoenix.
Family: Wife (pureblood), seven children, two youngest at Hogwarts. NB: Youngest son currently at home, seriously ill, Ministry inspectors have confirmed.
Security Status: TRACKED. All movements are being monitored. Strong likelihood Undesirable No. 1 will contact (has stayed with Weasley family previously)
"Undesirable Number One," Harry muttered under his breath as he replaced Mr. Weasley's folder and shut the drawer. He had an idea he knew who that was, and sure enough, as he straightened up and glanced around the office for fresh hiding places, he saw a poster of himself on the wall, with the words undesirable no. 1 emblazoned across his chest.
He angrily ruffled through the drawer, and this time came across Noel's file.
NOEL LUPIN:
undesirable no. 2
Blood status: Half-blood, with muggle upbringing, known member of the Order of the Phoenix. Possession of Dark Magic.
Family: Father (Half-breed; Werewolf.) Mother (Pureblood.) Only child, no current relationship.
Security Status: UNPLOTTABLE. Welsh home can not be detected.
Harry felt relief wash over him, all he needed to know was whether or not she was safe.
Speeding back toward the lifts, Harry reviewed his options. It had never been likely that the locket was here at the Ministry, and there was no hope of bewitching its whereabouts out of Umbridge while she was sitting in a crowded court. Their priority now had to be to leave the Ministry before they were exposed, and try again another day. The first thing to do was to find Ron, and then they could work out a way of extracting Hermione from the courtroom. The lift was empty when it arrived. Harry jumped in and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak as it started its descent. To his enormous relief, when it rattled to a halt at level two, a soaking-wet and wild-eyed Ron got in.
"M-morning," he stammered to Harry as the lift set off again.
"Ron, it's me, Harry!"
"Harry! Blimey, I forgot what you looked like — why isn't Hermione with you?"
"She had to go down to the courtrooms with Umbridge, she couldn't refuse, and —" But before Harry could finish the lift had stopped again: The doors opened and Mr. Weasley walked inside, talking to an elderly witch whose blonde hair was teased so high it resembled an anthill. "...I quite understand what you're saying, Wakanda, but I'm afraid I cannot be party to —" Mr. Weasley broke off; he had noticed Harry.
It was very strange to have Mr. Weasley glare at him with that much dislike. The lift doors closed and the four of them trundled downward once more. "Oh, hello, Reg," said Mr. Weasley, looking around at the sound of steady dripping from Ron's robes. "Isn't your wife in for questioning today? Er — what's happened to you? Why are you so wet?"
"Yaxley's office is raining," said Ron. He addressed Mr. Weasley's shoulder, and Harry felt sure he was scared that his father might recognize him if they looked directly into each other's eyes. "I couldn't stop it, so they've sent me to get Bernie — Pillsworth, I think they said —"
"Yes, a lot of offices have been raining lately," said Mr. Weasley. "Did you try Meteolojinx Recanto? It worked for Bletchley."
"Meteolojinx Recanto?" whispered Ron. "No, I didn't. Thanks, D — I mean, thanks, Arthur." The lift doors opened; the old witch with the anthill hair left, and Ron darted past her out of sight. Harry made to follow him, before Mr Wealsey could get out of his sight Harry turned to look at him, "Arthur, you know you're being tracked, don't you?"
"Is that a threat, Runcorn?" said Mr. Weasley loudly. "No," said Harry, "it's a fact! They're watching your every move —"
The lift doors clanged shut. They had reached the Atrium. Mr. Weasley gave Harry a scathing look and swept from the lift. Harry stood there, shaken. He wished he was impersonating somebody other than Runcorn...
Noel, threw open and read the article hungrily,
'Harry Potter was spotted at the Minister of Magic, earlier this evening, it has been reported that he was disguised as Ministry official, Albert Runcorn.
If any witch or wizard has any information of the whereabouts of Harry Potter the Ministry urges you to come forth and you and your family might be spared. More on the break in on page 25.
Noel took in a shaky breath and bit her cheek anxiously; she hoped Harry knew what he was doing.
——————
a/n: ive convinced myself that this universe's harry looks like elijah hewson and older noel looks like mara lafontan, and no i will not take criticism atm