chapter eight

                                    

                                          
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
They gulped down their breakfast, then set off to their destination, 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 went back for Harry. Clara went between the two trips and waited patiently with Ron for the last two to arrive. The group huddled 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. "They ought to be here in about five minutes. When I've stunned them— " 
"Hermione, we know," said Ron 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 them, which burst open with a crash. The dark corridor behind it led, as they knew from their 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 the other two in the alley way, "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. "Nicely done, Hermione," said Ron, emerging from behind a bin beside the theater door as Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak. Together they carried the little witch into the dark passageway that led backstage. Clara quietly stunned a second witch who apparated just moments later. Ron came behind Clara just in time to help catch the falling woman. Hermione plucked a few hairs from each of the witches' heads and added the first woman's hairs 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, Clara checked her newly gifted watch, which she had now charmed to actually tell time .
"We're running late, Mr. Magical Maintenance will be here any second."
The others went out to the street as Hermione handed Clara the vile of potion and a few hairs. Clara mixed in the hairs and took a swig. She rummaged through the woman's bag as she felt her body and face stretch into someone else. Sandra Conners, read the woman's ID. Clara clipped it to her blouse. Today was yet another day for Clara to act like someone else. Someone who was perfectly fine and capable of going through each day without worrying about the fate of her and those she loved. Clara wondered for a moment but quickly shook the thought from her head. She wouldn't see him. Not today.
They stepped out of the alleyway together. Hermione and Clara disguised as assistants, Ron as a small maintenance man, Reg Cattermole, and Harry as a businessman whose name they didn't know.  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. Clara followed behind her silently. Harry and Ron turned towards the Gentlemen.