Chapter Fourteen

Kreacher's Return

Amara ran back down into the kitchen.

"Harry!" Hermione was wailing. "How could you?"

"It was easy," said Harry. He stood up; he seemed to shaking, through pain or anger Amara didn't know.

"Don't look at me like that!" he snapped at Hermione.

"Don't start on her!" Amara said sharply, hands in fists. Lupin was gone … their hope of finding out more information of what was going on …

"No — no — we mustn't fight!" said Hermione, launching herself between them.

"You shouldn't have said that stuff to Lupin," Ron told Harry.

"He had it coming to him," said Harry. "Parents shouldn't leave their kids unless — unless they've got to."

"Harry —" said Hermione, stretching out a consoling hand, but he shrugged it off and walked away, his eyes on the fire Hermione had conjured. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, but Amara kept her eyes on Harry's back. Finally, he turned.

"I know I shouldn't have called him a coward."

"No, you shouldn't," said Ron at once.

"But he's acting like one."

"All the same . . ." said Hermione.

"I know," said Harry, and sounding rather pleading: "But if it makes him go back to Tonks, it'll be worth it, won't it?"

"Of course," said Amara, very quietly.

There was silence in the kitchen as the events seemed to sink in. Amara didn't know what to think. On the one hand, having Lupin with them could have been a God's send, he knew a lot, he'd experienced a lot more advanced magic … and the fact that it would be a comfort added to the positive factors. However, Harry was right, even though he had had a hard way of saying it. Lupin should not be leaving his unborn child. They didn't even know if they'd be returning yet. And, there was also the fact that he was a terrifying danger once a month. He couldn't exactly leave and find them again, could he? Especially when they didn't know how long they would be staying at Grimmauld Place – not with the cloaked men outside in the square.

Amara was still contemplating these thoughts as she sunk into a chair. She looked briefly at Harry, who was obscured by the Daily Prophet that Lupin had left. Harry's face stared at her and she sighed silently.

Harry hadn't grown up with his parents, and they hadn't had the choice. If Lupin could be with his child, he should. It was obvious, when she thought about it, but it didn't mean that she wasn't slightly disappointed that Lupin had run away.

There was a while of silence as Amara fiddled with her necklace and Ron and Hermione dithered slightly.

There was a loud crack which made them all jump. Turning, Amara saw, with a strange leap of joy, that Kreacher had returned with a very scruffy looking man. They were having a scuffle on the floor, in which, Kreacher managed to extract himself and bow low toward Harry.

"Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master."

Mundungus Fletcher – still as disgusting and grubby as ever – attempting to pick himself up and reach for his wand. Amara attempted to wrench hers out, but Hermione got there first.

"Expelliarmus!"

Amara caught the wand as it descended, grinning at Hermione.

Mundungus, seemingly still attempting to flee, dived for the stairs but was caught when Ron tackled ihm to the floor. With a yell, he hit the floor and stayed there, panting, as Ron remained firm. Amara glared at him, suddenly furious. She'd seen this piece of filth Apparate away from the broomstick and allowed Mad-Eye to die.

"What?" he bellowed, writhing in his attempts to free himself from Ron's grip. "Wha've I done? Setting a bleedin' 'ouse-elf on me, what are you playing at, wha've I done, lemme go, lemme go, or —"

"You're not in much of a position to make threats," said Harry. Standing, he threw the newspaper he had hidden behind aside, stalking up to the wild man on the floor. Kneeling so he was the same height as Mundungus – who had become very still and frightened – he drew his wand and pointed it directly at his horrible nose. Ron retracted himself as Amara and Hermione came over as well. Amara shoved Mundungus' wand in her pocket, but kept her own out. .

"Kreacher apologizes for the delay in bringing the thief, Master," croaked the elf. "Fletcher knows how to avoid capture, has many hidey-holes and accomplices. Nevertheless, Kreacher cornered the thief in the end."

"You've done really well, Kreacher," said Harry, and the elf bowed low.

"Right, we've got a few questions for you," Harry told Mundungus, who shouted at once,

"I panicked, okay? I never wanted to come along, no offense, mate, but I never volunteered to die for you, an' that was bleedin' You-Know-Who come flying at me, anyone woulda got outta there, I said all along I didn't wanna do it —"

"Doesn't mean you had to Disapparate," snarled Amara.

"None of us did," Hermione said.

"Well, you're a bunch of bleedin' 'eroes then, aren't you, but I never pretended I was up for killing meself —"

"We're not interested in why you ran out on Mad-Eye," said Harry, moving his wand a little closer to Mundungus's baggy, bloodshot eyes. "We already knew you were an unreliable bit of scum."

"Well then, why the 'ell am I being 'unted down by 'ouse-elves? Or is this about them goblets again? I ain't got none of 'em left, or you could 'ave 'em —"

"It's not about the goblets either, although you're getting warmer," said Harry. "Shut up and listen."

"Sirius never cared about any of the junk —"

His comment was cut off as Kreacher came forward to hit him over the head with a saucepan. Mundungus shrieked, cowering away as Kreacher went in for more blows.

"Call 'im off, call 'im off, 'e should be locked up!" screamed Mundungus.

"Kreacher, no!" shouted Harry.

Kreacher's thin arms trembled with the weight of the pan, still held aloft.

"Perhaps just one more, Master Harry, for luck?"

Ron laughed and Amara snorted.

"We need him conscious, Kreacher, but if he needs persuading you can do the honours," said Harry.

"Thank you very much, Master," said Kreacher with a bow, and he retreated a short distance, his great pale eyes still fixed upon Mundungus with loathing.

"When you stripped this house of all the valuables you could find," Harry tried again, "you took a bunch of stuff from the kitchen cupboard. There was a locket there. What did you do with it?"

"Why?" asked Mundungus. "Is it valuable?"

"You've still got it!" cried Hermione.

"No, he hasn't," said Ron shrewdly. "He's wondering whether he should have asked more money for it."

"More?" said Mundungus. "That wouldn't have been effing difficult . . . bleedin' gave it away, di'n' I? No choice."

"What do you mean?"

"I was selling in Diagon Alley and she come up to me and asks if I've got a license for trading in magical artifacts. Bleedin' snoop. She was gonna fine me, but she took a fancy to the locket an' told me she'd take it and let me off that time, and to fink meself lucky."

"Who was this woman?" asked Harry.

"I dunno, some Ministry hag." Mundungus considered for a moment, brow wrinkled. "Little woman. Bow on top of 'er head." He frowned and then added, "Looked like a toad."

Harry dropped his wand: It hit Mundungus on the nose and shot red sparks into his eyebrows, which ignited.

"Aguamenti!" screamed Hermione, and a jet of water streamed from her wand, engulfing a spluttering and choking Mundungus.

Amara stared at Harry in shock at what Mundungus had just revealed. This was not going to be good, at all.

-OOOOO-

At least now they had something to do. They were no longer lying around examining what Dumbledore had left them; they had a plan.

Dolores Umbridge now had the Horcrux they needed, and the only way of getting it off her was infiltrating the Ministry of Magic and taking it from her. This, in itself, was crazy. Going into the place that was so dangerous and trying to steal something was the most insane thing they'd decided to do.

The day after Kreacher had brought Mundungus to Grimmauld Place they set their plan into motion. Every day they positioned themselves on the entrance to the Ministry of Magic, which Ron had known from Mr Weasley. They went alone, using the Invisibility Cloak, trying to eavesdrop on conversations and steal the Daily Prophet if they could.

Meanwhile, back at Grimmauld Place, Kreacher had cleaned the kitchen so well it was now unrecognisable, and cooked them food every day. Their spirits had soared and they had put all their efforts into getting as much information as possible. Amara had managed to draw a good few maps of the Ministry, from what they already knew, and what they had figured out.

Copious amounts of notes littered the table in the kitchen, and the stack of Daily Prophets began to rise as the month went on.

Toward the end of the month, it was Amara's turn to go and keep lookout. It was a boring job, really, when all you heard were snippets of pointless gossip or information they had already got. Mostly it was whispered complaints about how the Ministry was running – one dumpy witch had been told off by her friend for speaking too loud about how her "Death Eater boss" was making her do some awful work.

They attempted to stay for at least the hours of the day, having been given lunch graciously by Kreacher, but it was still rather dull as they tried not to wriggle too much and dislodge the invisibility cloak. Just before she was going to go home, a Ministry worker left and dumped the Daily Prophet in the bin near where Amara was hiding. Seconds later, it was in her hands.

On the second page, her heart dropped and she Apparated back to Grimmauld Place as quick as she could. It was getting rather difficult now that the cloaked figures were gaining in number and were constantly watching them. Luckily, Amara managed to do it quite well and she burst into the house as quickly as she could.

"Severus Snape?"

"I didn't kill you," Amara said impatiently and ran into the kitchen.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were studying one of Amara's maps when she entered and dropped the Daily Prophet, open on page two, onto them all.

"We're in here!" she said breathlessly. "Look!"

She jabbed a finger on the page.

THE MUGGLEBORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION:

Muggleborns who have not presented themselves at the Ministry of Magic

'Granger, Hermione' was there. 'Matthews, Amara', 'Matthews, Ethan' and 'Matthews, Tessie' were further down the page.

"Merlin," said Ron, dropping the quill he was holding and grabbing the Daily Prophet as though he didn't believe her. "What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Well, you two can't come to the Ministry –"

"Don't be stupid," said Amara immediately. "We're not sitting here whilst you two go off."

"But –"

"We're going!" Amara said, loudly. "In case you haven't noticed, Ethan and Tessie are on this list too, and I wouldn't put it past the Death Eaters not to send some over to France, whether they're pretending to go to Beauxbatons or not."

Ron seemed keen to keep saying Amara and Hermione shouldn't go with them; they shot him down every time, however, even when Ron said he'd promised Fred to look after Amara. At this, she'd rolled her eyes.

They managed to get insights of the goings on in the Ministry as August began to fade away; on the first of September, Harry came into the kitchen with a grim look on his face.

"I've got news, and you won't like it."

"What's happened?" Ron asked apprehensively as Kreacher took the Cloak of Harry. Harry walked forward and dumped the Daily Prophet on the table. Leaning forwards, Amara saw a picture of a familiar, hook-nosed, black-haired man staring at them. She recoiled at the title:

SEVERUS SNAPE CONFIRMED AS HOGWARTS HEADMASTER

"No!" said Amara, Ron and Hermione loudly.

Hermione was quickest; she snatched up the newspaper and began to read the accompanying story out loud.

" '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 —' Like committing murder and cutting off people's ears, I suppose! Snape, headmaster! Snape in Dumbledore's study — Merlin's pants!" she shrieked, making Amara, Harry and Ron jump. She leapt up from the table and hurtled from the room, shouting as she went, "I'll be back in a minute!"

" 'Merlin's pants'?" repeated Ron, looking amused. "She must be upset." He pulled the newspaper toward him and perused the article about Snape.

"The other teachers won't stand for this. McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout all know the truth, they know how Dumbledore died. They won't accept Snape as headmaster. And who are these Carrows?"

"Death Eaters," said Harry. "There are pictures of them inside. They were at the top of the tower when Snape killed Dumbledore, so it's all friends together. And," Harry went on bitterly, drawing up a chair, "I can't see that the other teachers have got any choice but to stay. 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."

Kreacher came bustling to the table with a large tureen in his hands, and ladled out soup into pristine bowls, whistling between his teeth as he did so.

"Thanks, Kreacher," said Harry, flipping over the Prophet. "Well, at least we know exactly where Snape is now."

Amara began eating her soup carefully, thinking the news over in her mind.

"There are still a load of Death Eaters watching the house," Harry told her and Ron as they ate, "more than usual. It's like they're hoping we'll march out carrying our school trunks and head off for the Hogwarts Express."

Ron glanced at his watch.

"I've been thinking about that all day. It left nearly six hours ago. Weird, not being on it, isn't it?"

"Really weird," Amara agreed. This time last year – this time for the past six years – they'd been on that train. "I wonder why more of them are standing out there, though. DO you think they've figured we're not in other places?"

"Probably," shrugged Ron, looking vaguely concerned but more focused on his soup. "But they have no evidence we are here."

"Well, they nearly saw me coming back in just now," Harry said. "I landed badly on the top step, and the Cloak slipped."

"I do that every time. Oh, here she is," Ron added, craning around in his seat to watch Hermione re-entering the kitchen. "And what in the name of Merlin's most baggy Y Fronts was that about?"

"I remembered this," Hermione panted.

She was carrying a large, framed picture, which she lowered to the floor before seizing her small, beaded bag from the kitchen sideboard. She shoved it, with difficulty, inside.

"Phineas Nigellus," Hermione explained as she threw the bag onto the kitchen table with an almighty, unnatural clash.

"Sorry?" said Ron, but Harry and Amara exchanged knowing glances.

"Snape could send Phineas Nigellus to look inside this house for him," Hermione explained to Ron as she resumed her seat. "But let him try it now, all Phineas Nigellus will be able to see is the inside of my handbag."

"Good thinking!" said Ron, looking impressed.

"Thank you," smiled Hermione, pulling her soup toward her. "So, Harry, what else happened today?"

"Nothing," said Harry. "Watched the Ministry entrance for seven hours. No sign of her. Saw your dad, though, Ron. He looks fine." Ron nodded his appreciation of this news. They had agreed that it was far too dangerous to try and communicate with Mr Weasley. They'd also, much to Hermione and Amara's displeasure, decided against communicating with Jesse and Adrien, who also used that way to work. Hermione was relieved yet distressed at the sight of her boyfriend.

"Dad always told us most Ministry people use the Floo Network to get to work," Ron said. "That's why we haven't seen Umbridge, she'd never walk, she'd think she's too important."

"And what about that funny old witch and that little wizard in the navy robes?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yeah, the bloke from Magical Maintenance," said Ron.

"How do you know he works for Magical Maintenance?" Hermione asked, freezing in her soup eating movements.

"Dad said everyone from Magical Maintenance wears navy blue robes."

"But you never told us that!"

Hermione dropped her spoon and pulled toward her the sheaf of notes and maps they'd been examining.

"There's nothing in here about navy blue robes, nothing!" she said, flipping feverishly through the pages.

"Well, does it really matter?"

"Ron, it all matters! If we're going to get into the Ministry and not give ourselves away when they're bound to be on the lookout for intruders, every little detail matters! We've been over and over this, I mean, what's the point of all these reconnaissance trips if you aren't even bothering to tell us —"

"Blimey, Hermione, I forget one little thing —"

"You do realize, don't you, that there's probably no more dangerous place in the whole world for us to be right now than the Ministry of —"

"I think we should do it tomorrow," said Harry.

Amara stared at him as Ron choked on his soup. Amara clapped him on the back as she continued to stare at Harry.

"Tomorrow?" repeated Hermione, sounding like she swallowed something large and uncomfortable. "You aren't serious, Harry?"

"I am," said Harry. "I don't think we're going to be much better prepared than we are now even if we skulk around the Ministry entrance for another month. The longer we put it off, the farther away that locket could be. There's already a good chance Umbridge has chucked it away; the thing doesn't open."

"Unless," said Ron, "she's found a way of opening it and she's now possessed."

"Wouldn't make any difference to her, she was so evil in the first place," Harry shrugged.

"Are you sure?" said Amara worriedly. "I mean, there's so much to know!"

"We know everything important," Harry said. "We know they've stopped Apparition in and out of the Ministry. We know only the most senior Ministry members are allowed to connect their homes to the Floo Network now, because Ron heard those two Unspeakables complaining about it. And we know roughly where Umbridge's office is, because of what you heard that bearded bloke saying to his mate —"

" 'I'll be up on level one, Dolores wants to see me,' " Hermione recited immediately.

"Exactly," said Harry. "And we know you get in using those funny coins, or tokens, or whatever they are, because I saw that witch borrowing one from her friend —"

"But we haven't got any!"

"If the plan works, we will have," Harry continued calmly.

"I don't know, Harry, I don't know. . . . There are an awful lot of things that could go wrong, so much relies on chance. . . ."

"That'll be true even if we spend another three months preparing," said Harry. "It's time to act."

Amara bit her lip. They did have the right information … and another month would probably get no more knowledge. But the thought of actually doing the plan was a very scary thought. Though they'd been to the Ministry before, this was a whole other operation. For one, it would actually be busy and they had to pretend to be other people.

"All right," said Ron slowly, "let's say we go for it tomorrow. . . I think it should just be me and Harry."

"Oh, don't start that again!" sighed Hermione. "I thought we'd settled this."

"It's one thing hanging around the entrances under the Cloak, but this is different, Hermione." Ron jabbed a finger at the copy of the Daily Prophet that Amara had got ten days before. "You and Amara are on the list of Muggleborns who didn't present themselves for interrogation!"

"And you're supposed to be dying of spattergroit at the Burrow! If anyone shouldn't go, it's Harry, he's got a ten-thousand-Galleon price on his head —"

"Fine, I'll stay here," said Harry. "Let me know if you ever defeat Voldemort, won't you?"

Amara laughed along with Ron and Hermione. Harry rubbed his forehead.

"Well, if all four of us go we'll have to Disapparate separately," Ron said. "We can't all fit under the Cloak anymore."

"What about if I take you with a Disillusionment charm and Hermione takes Harry under the Cloak? That'll save time, and it'll only be for a moment," said Amara, watching Harry as he suddenly stood up.

"That's a good idea," said Hermione, who was watching Harry too. They all followed him with their eyes as he left the room quickly. Amara knew that they were preoccupied with the fact Harry's scar was hurting again.

"Do you think –" Ron started after a few minutes pause. He broke off, however, when there were shouts coming from above them. Harry was yelling so loudly that even Kreacher looked distinctly alarmed.

Amara, Ron and Hermione ran out the room and up to the first floor bathroom. Amara pounded on the door.

"Harry! Harry! Open the door!"

Amara nearly fell over when the door was yanked open by Harry a second later. He was very pale.

"What were you doing?" asked Hermione sternly as they all crowded in, looking around.

"What d'you think I was doing?" asked Harry.

"You were yelling your head off!" said Ron.

"Oh yeah . . . I must've dozed off or —"

"Harry, please don't insult our intelligence," said Hermione, taking deep breaths. "We know your scar hurt downstairs, and you're white as a sheet."

Harry sat down on the edge of the bath.

"Fine. I've just seen Voldemort murdering a woman. By now he's probably killed her whole family. And he didn't need to. It was Cedric all over again, they were just there . . ." Amara flinched at her old boyfriend's name.

"Harry, you aren't supposed to let this happen anymore!" Hermione cried. "Dumbledore wanted you to use Occlumency! He thought the connection was dangerous — Voldemort can use it, Harry! What good is it to watch him kill and torture, how can it help?"

"Because it means I know what he's doing," said Harry.

"So you're not even going to try to shut him out?"

"Hermione, I can't. You know I'm lousy at Occlumency, I never got the hang of it."

"You never really tried!" she said hotly. "I don't get it, Harry — do you like having this special connection or relationship or what — whatever —"

Hermione faltered as Harry glared at her, standing up.

"Like it?" he said quietly. "Would you like it?"

"I — no — I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean —"

"I hate it, I hate the fact that he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he's most dangerous. But I'm going to use it."

"Dumbledore —"

"Forget Dumbledore. This is my choice, nobody else's. I want to know why he's after Gregorovitch."

"Who?"

"He's a foreign wandmaker," said Harry. "He made Krum's wand and Krum reckons he's brilliant."

"But according to you," said Ron, "Voldemort's got Ollivander locked up somewhere. If he's already got a wandmaker, what does he need another one for?"

"Maybe he agrees with Krum, maybe he thinks Gregorovitch is better . . . or else he thinks Gregorovitch will be able to explain what my wand did when he was chasing me, because Ollivander didn't know."

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, but Amara did not join them. She always hated the little looks they gave each other. She had no reason not to believe that Harry's wand did something of its own accord, no matter what Hermione and Ron wanted to believe.

"Harry, you keep talking about what your wand did," said Hermione, "but you made it happen! Why are you so determined not to take responsibility for your own power?"

"Because I know it wasn't me! And so does Voldemort, Hermione! We both know what really happened!"

Hermione and Harry glared at each other. Amara stood unsurely to the side, looking at Ron for help.

"Drop it," Ron said to Hermione. "It's up to him. And if we're going to the Ministry tomorrow, don't you reckon we should go over the plan?"

Hermione and Ron left the bathroom to head back down to the kitchen. Amara remained with Harry, who was splashing cold water on his face.

"If Voldemort knows the wand acted by itself, then that's worrying," said Amara once the other two had vanished. "I've never heard of Gregorovitch before. I wonder if he does know the reason why it happened? After all, if Ollivander didn't know, it could be something unique."

"There must be an explanation," said Harry as they left. He still looked faintly angry. "Or else it wouldn't've happened."

Kreacher gave them stew and treacle tart for dinner, which they ate gratefully whilst going over the plans for the next day. They went over it so much that it was well past midnight before they all went up to bed. Hermione and Amara were staying in the room she and Tally had stayed in, with Ron next door and Harry in Sirius's old bedroom. Hermione was muttering the whole time they were getting changed, and Amara found herself reciting lists of what they needed for tomorrow. She hoped it went smoothly.

-OOOOO-

The next morning, they were all up early. Amara had not had that much sleep, due to going over the plan in her mind and the fact that Hermione had been tossing and turning all night in the bed next to her.

Kreacher gave them hot rolls and coffee when they entered the kitchen, which Amara took with relish. As a second thought, she conjured a flask and shoved some coffee and rolls in the beaded bag when Hermione was preoccupied with the sheafs of plans.

Ron and Harry came in, both yawning slightly, as Hermione did a bag check.

"Robes," she said under her breath, "Polyjuice Potion . . . Invisibility Cloak . . . Decoy Detonators . . . You should each take a couple just in case. . . . Puking Pastilles, Nosebleed Nougat, Extendable Ears . . . Amara, why is there coffee and rolls in here?"

"In case we get hungry," said Amara innocently as Ron and Harry snorted into their breakfasts.

When they were done they headed into the hall toward the front door. Hermione and Harry went first; Amara followed with Ron and a nicely done Disillusionment charm on them both. After Apparating and removing the Charm, they found themselves in a tiny alleyway where Ministry Workers turned up after 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," 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. 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 three in the alleyway, "we put on the Cloak again —"

"— and we wait," Ron finished, throwing it over Hermione's head and rolling his eyes at Harry and Amara.

There was the unmistakeable noise of Apparation and a little witch that Amara had tailed one afternoon appeared in view. Not a moment later she was unconscious and was being dragged into the fire escape.

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."

Hermione drank the Polyjuice Potion, which was now a pleasant heliotrope colour, 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."

The shoved the door closed and put the Cloak over the three of them, leaving the now Mafalda-Hermione to wait.

"Oh, hello, Mafalda," said the ferrety man who had just arrived.

"Hello!" said Hermione in a quivery 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, Amara, Harry and Ron crept along behind them.

"I'm sorry to hear you're under the weather," said Hermione, as the little wizard tried to explain his problems. Hermione reached for a bag, containing puking pastilles, and offered it. "Here, have a sweet."

"Eh? Oh, no thanks —"

"I insist!" said Hermione aggressively, shaking the bag of pastilles in his face. In any other situation, Amara would have laughed at how alarmed the little wizard took as he accepted one. The Puking Pastille worked immediately, and Amara wrinkled her nose in distaste as the wizard threw up.

"Oh dear!" Hermione said, as he splattered the alley with sick. Amara had to admire Fred and George's work. "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.

The man finally decided to heed Hermione's advice and Apparated away, just in time for Ron to grab his bag.

"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 Amara and Harry, who were still under the Invisibility Cloak, "and we'll be back with some hairs for the both of you."

It took ages, in Amara and Harry's eyes, but it was only about fifteen minutes before Ron and Hermione came hurrying back into the sick splattered alleyway.

"Amara, we've got you some hairs from a woman named Ophelia Porpington, she seems to be in the Floo Network Authority. Anyway, she went home because she fainted ..." Amara took the auburn hairs off Hermione and dropped them into her batch of polyjuice potion. It turned a nice sort of blue.

"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 Amara and Harry retired to take the potion and change.

Amara emerged first, now a good few inches taller than usual, with auburn hair above her shoulders. It was all very strange, especially when seeing Harry emerge, now six foot tall and rather scary.

"Blimey, that's scary," said Ron, looking up at Harry, who now towered over him.

"Take one of Mafalda's tokens," Hermione told Harry, "Amara, there's some in Ophelia's bag. Let's go, it's nearly nine."

They found two flights of steps, one for gentlemen and one for ladies. They looked like underground toilets. Splitting from Harry and Ron, Amara and Hermione went down into the ladies, following several others.

All the women seemed to be entering cubicles using the golden tokens. Hermione and Amara followed suit and went into adjacent ones.

Peering into Hermione's cubicle, she gazed at her.

"What're we meant to do?" she hissed.

"I think we flush ourselves in," whispered Hermione, looking terrified.

"Right," Amara stood up and climbed into the toilet. She was quite dry, and, after hearing Hermione's toilet flush, she followed.

Seconds later, she was in a fireplace in the Ministry of Magic. They were in.