Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Making Plans

"You can't be fucking serious."

"Trust me, if you can just give me the general layout of the place, I can have the bodies of Tracey's parents destroyed in less than an hour. All I would have to do is blink in there."

Sirius palms his face, slowly rubbing his eyes.

We've had this conversation at least three or four times in the last week, and every time he's turned me away, refusing to give me any information about the prison.

"Helene… that place is like Hell come to Earth, you don't want to go there," he says, sighing in frustration. "Not to mention the danger. What if you're caught? What if you get killed by the guards? What then?"

"Sirius, I know for a fact that dementors don't affect me. I had one close enough to shake my hand last year and I didn't feel a thing. Also, I could beat any of the guards there easily. They're basically cannon fodder. I remember you saying that all of the guards are basically fresh out of training except for the warden."

"Helene, what do I have to do to get you to get this out of your head?"

"There's nothing you can do, Sirius."

He swears loudly, smacking the table and causing me to jump. "Fucks sake… you're just as stubborn as your mother was," he groans, wiping his face again. "Don't bring this up again, do you understand?" he challenges, jabbing his finger in my direction. "I don't want to hear a bloody word of it. I'm not going to have you running off on some suicide mission. I know Tracey isn't doing too well, but you shouldn't put your neck on the line over something like this."

"Fine, I won't bother with it," I grunt, turning away from Sirius and marching through the manor up to my room, shutting the door loudly behind me.

Yes, very mature of me, I know. I blame it on my raging hormones.

I curse under my breath, walking up to my desk and pulling out a sheaf of parchment and a quill. I stir it in the ink absentmindedly as I think of what to do.

I quickly find myself distracted, studying the grain of the wood and the way it flows across the desk in tight swirls, only a few errant scuffs and blemishes marking the surface. I trail one finger over the intricate patterns, enjoying the cool smoothness of the wood. With a grunt, I shake my head as I realize I'm losing focus, quickly turning my attention to the task at hand.

I'm of the mind now that breaking into Azkaban isn't important just because of helping Tracey. As I said to Octavius, there's about a dozen Death Eaters locked up there, along with Voldemort's old lieutenant and outrageously sadistic bitch Bellatrix Lestrange.

It would be child's play for me to ask one of the Dementors to kiss everyone in the prison who has the Dark Mark. All it would take is a few words, and bam, there goes a good portion of Voldemort's forces.

But how the hell do I get into Azkaban?

I start to jot down an odd little flowchart on the parchment, putting my thoughts to the page and trying to work out an effective method to breaking into the prison that only one man has broken out of. My ears quirk slightly at the pleasant sound of the quill scratching across parchment.

So, Sirius broke out using his animagus form, as the dementors don't particularly care about animals. But since I'm not affected by them and they listen to me I don't think I need to go through the arduous process of becoming an animagus. Sure, it would be a nice little trick and could come in handy in a few niche situations, but it's not currently worth the trouble of stuffing my cheeks full of mandrake leaf and dicking around with one of the most ridiculously complicated rituals I've ever set my eyes on.

So, scratch out animagus training.

First things first, if Sirius won't give me the layout of the prison, how would I get my hands on it?

"The Ministry," I whisper, scribbling that down.

They're sure to have plans of the prison somewhere, and if I could break into the fucking Department of Mysteries, a department that's so shrouded in secrets that it's workers are called Unspeakables in my fifth year, then the rest of the Ministry should be painfully easy.

But isn't Azkaban older than the Ministry itself?

Fuck.

So where would there be blueprints or plans? Do I have to just do this flying by the seat of my pants?

No, this is much to serious for me to simply waltz into the damned place and expect it all to work out just fine. Another question, does the Ministry even have a Department of Infrastructure?

I scratch the back of my head, tapping the quill against my chin. How am I going to figure this out?

I mean, I could always break in and just see what happens after that. The Ministry, that is. Like I said, I'm not going to waltz into Azkaban.

What Department would be the most likely to have any information pertaining to Azkaban?

"Aw shit," I groan as the realization hits me.

If anyone is going to have information about the prison, be it general layout, which wings prisoners are kept in, etcetera, it would be the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

That in itself is going to take planning. I know for a fact that there's always a suite of aurors there 24/7, as there's got to be some sort of all-hours response team. Even if its just a small team at that, it's still a number of aurors that I have to skirt around.

The sheet in front of me is slowly beginning to look like the ramblings of a schizophrenic bank robber in the midst of a nervous breakdown as I continue to fill it with miscellaneous thoughts, headings connected by messily drawn arrows and a few droplets of ink here and there slowly sinking into the page. I once again find myself distracted watching the ink spiderweb across the parchment.

Pay attention Helene!

My best bet to getting into the DMLE would be to speak to Amelia Bones so that I can get a tour of the place. I'm sure if I told her that I was interested in one day becoming an auror she would be thrilled to have someone give me a tour.

I pen a quick note to Madam Bones and fold it neatly, placing it inside an envelope and sealing it. I grimace at the feeling of my tongue running over the adhesive, running it along my teeth to get rid of the unpleasant sensation. God, that's worse than nails on a chalkboard.

I hop out of my seat, quickly spelling the mind-bending bit of parchment that I've left on my desk with a notice-me-not charm so that Sirius doesn't get more worried about me busting into Azkaban. Sure, I know he knows that I'm going to break in there regardless, at least, I believe he knows me well enough to have come to that conclusion, but I want to save him the stress. Dogs are known to sniff around, and I wouldn't put it past him to sneak in here and check to see if my room looks like a muggle cop drama, pictures of different Death Eaters pinned to the wall and red string connecting them in a myriad of different indecipherable ways.

After a second check to make sure that I haven't left anything that may be incriminating in my bedroom, I rush off to the Manor Owlery, greeting Hedwig with some gentle scratches under her beak and a hurried, "Hello!"

She chirps excitedly at me, nuzzling into my hand as I tie the letter to her foot.

"Could you get this letter to Amelia Bones?" I ask, knowing that if anyone can deliver a random letter unscathed to the head of the DMLE, it's probably Hedwig.

If an owl could roll its eyes, she would have. Instead, she clucks in annoyance, shaking her little feathered head briefly before spreading her wings and taking to the air, silently leaping through the window and gliding off.

I rub my hands together excitedly, anticipation already building for my future jail break.

-::-

"Helene! Someone's here to see you!" Terra shouts, her voice carrying all throughout the Manor and startling me.

"Coming!" I shout, dog earing my book and racing through the halls, trudging down the stairs at a mile a minute. I skid to a halt in the foyer where Amelia Bones is standing, trademark monocle hanging from the lapel of her incredibly smart looking suit.

I have to keep myself from trailing my eyes over her striking silhouette, all decked out in a warm gray, a burst of colour in the form of an enchanted pocket square bringing a little originality to the outfit. Jesus, I should hope to look so good at her age.

I shake my head imperceptibly. Damnit. Stop it Helene. Don't ogle women twice your age.

"Hello Madam Bones! Thank you again for getting back to me so quickly!" I smile, reaching out and shaking her hand.

She smiles serenely at me, "It's not a problem at all. What with the happenings at Hogwarts over the last few years, I'd say we've gotten well acquainted." She pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I would like to know how on Earth your owl managed to find me, as my home is behind many, many wards."

"She's incredibly clever," I say, as if that explains everything.

I nearly jump in fright as I feel Terra's hand settle on my shoulder. "I thought you were having us on when you said you were getting a tour of the DMLE from Amelia Bones herself," she exclaims, pride in her voice as she smirks at me. "It's good to see you showing an interest in future careers. Just don't get so hung up on one path, alright?"

I have to stop myself from shrinking in on myself at her words, guilt washing over me. I don't like lying to her, Octavius and Sirius, as the whole reason I'm visiting the DMLE is because I plan to do something incredibly foolhardy and dangerous. Honestly, I really do not want to be an auror anymore, what with it being an ultimately thankless job and much too excitable for my tastes.

"Absolutely T-, uh, mum," I stutter, the words still unfamiliar on my lips.

She grins widely, rubbing my back briefly before handing me off to Madam Bones. "Well, don't give Amelia too much trouble. I'll see you later dear!"

I roll my shoulder as Amelia waves ahead of herself. "Now, you're going to have to take my hand if we're going to be flooing directly into my office," she says, taking hold of mine and tossing a pinch into the fire. I feel a blush creeping across my cheeks when she grabs my hand, shaking my head once more, reciting, 'Do not ogle women twice your age,' over and over in my head.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Directors Office," she intones, stepping through the flames with me at her side.

After the brief rollercoaster that is floo travel, we step out into her office. I look around for a moment, taking in her workspace. I don't know if I'm studying it because I'm interested in seeing what a higher up in the Ministries work space looks like, or if I'm casing the joint for later since I may come across some very important files here.

Probably a little column A, a little column B.

The office is quite spartan, a few pictures of her family placed upon a tidy oak desk, a line of expanded filing cabinets tucked into the far corner, as well as a window showcasing a lovely view of the London skyline. Hardwood floors and a few potted plants placed tastefully about the room makes for a homely feel. It's quite an interesting set up for the most powerful woman in Britain.

I glance out the window, putting the fact that we're a few stories underground out of my mind, as magic tends to not give a shit when it comes to something like sense or physics.

"I try not to be as opulent as the other Department Heads," Amelia says, straightening out a photo as she explains away my unanswered question. "It does well for me to stand on more even ground with those working under me."

I nod. "That makes sense."

"Well, if you'll just come with me," she says, gesturing ahead and opening the door for me.

I walk through with a muttered 'thank you,' my jaw dropping as I quickly find myself in the middle of an incredible commotion. Paper airplanes skirt the roof as they fly to their destinations, one bouncing off of one of the many workers heads as they jostle one another in a frantic hurry. I clench my jaw at the sudden cacophony of sound, witches and wizards shouting at each other to get this and that done, others scribbling furiously as they slave over mountains of parchment work, stacked comically high.

I spy a dishevelled man being led out of one of many side rooms, cordoned off to the side and away from the general tumult of the main office. I assume that someone must have just conducted an interrogation of sorts, judging by the harried look on the mans face as well as the exhausted demeanor of the auror leading him.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Amelia asks, her voice surprisingly close.

I jump in fright, turning to see her standing quite near to me, surveying her kingdom.

"Yes, it's quite busy," I murmur, just barely audible over the din of the room, once again repeating my mantra.

"An understatement if I've ever heard one," she snorts. "So, what got you interested in becoming an auror, Miss Potter?"

I shrug noncommittally. "I dunno'. It caught my interest, not to mention my dad was an auror. That, and I've had enough run ins with you to get a bit of a feel for it."

She smiles at me once more, my heart skipping dangerously.

Keep it together Helene!

"Well, as long as the run ins don't involve me leading you back here in ropes, I'm sure you'd do fine here one day."

I put the uncomfortably appealing idea of her tying me up out of my mind as quickly as I can as she pulls a folder out of the inner breast of her suit jacket, one that should not have been able to fit there, but expansion charms do work wonders. "I've seen your grades," she mentions, opening the folder and running her eyes over the parchment contained within. "Your scores are incredibly impressive, attaining an O average, while hitting well above the mark and earning an O+ in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defence."

"Not in Ravenclaw for nothing Madam."

"It certainly seems so," she remarks, raising an eyebrow. "If you keep up with your marks and manage to stay out of trouble, I'd certainly hope to see you apply here one day." She claps her hands suddenly, rubbing them together as she looks about the room. "Now then, let's begin with our tour. Shall we?"

I nod, the two of us taking the long way around the teeming throng of flying parchment and rushing aurors so that we don't get caught up or tripped in the mob.

"So, you've seen the main office," Amelia says, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder and pointing behind her. "It gets to be a touch mad in there due to us being understaffed, but don't let that intimidate you. Parchmentwork is only a small part of the job, and due to an incredible overstaffing problem when it comes to clerical staff, we have people to take care of most of it."

I can't help but notice the derision in her voice, practically spitting out the words clerical staff, as if they're dirt in her mouth. Must not be a fan of Fudge's 'budget cuts.'

I apparently lack enough of a filter to mention that.

"Not a fan of Fudge?"

Amelia casts her eyes over me quickly. "No comment," she states drily, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that," I apologize sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head.

"It's fine, really. I just hope that you understand that any statement from me regarding something of that nature would be highly unprofessional."

"Noted."

She nods curtly, pointing to her right at the suite of rooms that I noticed earlier. "Those are the interrogation rooms, the ones closest to the entrance are quite a bit cushier than the ones further away. It gives us options with the different suspects that we bring in." She continues on, taking me through a corridor that leads behind the array of rooms, gesturing to a door at the far end. "Temporary holdings cells, mainly for drunkards who need a night to sober up and think about what they've done."

She leads me back out, and I notice another row of doors opposite the interrogation rooms, plaques situated above them. "Those are the offices for the Head Auror, Head Hit-Wizard, as well as the Head Legilimancer."

"Legilimancer?" I ask, Amelia having caught my attention. "I didn't know that there was such a thing."

"Yes. He's only needed quite rarely, but it's a necessary position," she explains. "The Head Legilimancer is a singular role, as there's nobody underneath them. The last time we required Mr. Gibbons' services was during the Blood War. Laws tend to get a bit… lax when there's a civil war going on."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a civil war," I blurt, a hint of derision in my voice. "More a bunch of zealous terrorists trying to pull off a coup."

Amelia's lips twist up in the hint of a smirk. "I couldn't agree more. Unfortunately, many powerful names within our esteemed Wizengamot have officially dubbed it a civil war, giving unneeded credence to Voldemort's unsavoury goals."

I shake my head in disappointment. "Let's change the topic, I don't want to get you into any trouble Madam Bones."

"Agreed, and you don't need to refer to me as Madam Bones, it makes me feel awfully old. I believe we're familiar enough for you to call me Amelia."

"I can do that Amelia," I say, smiling at her.

"You're quite mature for your age, has anyone ever told you that?"

That manages to garner a blush out of me, and I turn my head away in a bout of shyness. "Yeah, plenty of people have. One tends to grow up pretty quickly when they go through what I have."

Amelia looks momentarily ashamed. "That is true. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dredge up any bad memories."

"No, no, it's fine," I say, waving her off. "You would know if I was bothered by it." I pause, looking about at the general mayhem in the DMLE. "Is this all the Department is composed of? I know you said that you're understaffed, but this seems awfully small."

Amelia tuts loudly, placing her hands on her hips. "We were much larger a few decades ago, this actually used to be the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," she explains. "And no, this isn't all the Department is made of, if you would follow me."

I nod, Amelia leading me out of the main office into a small foyer, a table with a few secretarial staff working absently over more large piles of parchmentwork. The entrance to the foyer is shuttered by two massive French doors, both of them set ajar so as to not stymy the flow of people in and out of the offices.

Offices in plural, as there are two more doors, one on the left and one on the right, both leading to two other branches of the DMLE. I read the placards next to the doors, the left door reading Improper Use of Magic Office, and the right Wizengamot Administration Services. I find it a little odd that the Wizengamot has an office in the DMLE.

"What's the purpose of the Wizengamot offices?" I ask, pointing towards the door. "I understand the Improper Use of Magic, but administration doesn't strike me as being tied into law enforcement."

"It's the magical equivalent of a muggle court registry. It just has a bit of an odd name."

I nod succinctly. That makes sense.

Amelia continues on with our tour, showing off the other two terribly boring Sub-Departments. I have to try my best not to scowl at Mafalda Hopkirk when I'm introduced to her, recognizing the stuck-up bint who sent me those two awfully condescending warning letters in my last life.

The tour itself is quite simple, Amelia giving me a quick rundown on the set up of the Department along with the pros and cons of working in each one. She was actually surprisingly unbiased when speaking about the Auror Headquarters, not making an attempt to recruit me by any means as I'd imagined she would. I find it quite refreshing to be treated as just a regular person. A gifted one, yes, but regular all the same.

"Blimey! Is that Helene Potter?" Someone gasps as we head back to Amelia's office.

I look over to see a familiar heart shaped face, ruffled pink hair sticking every which way.

"Yes Tonks, it is," Amelia says, casting a glance my way.

"Tonks?" I ask, attempting to rile Amelia into saying Nymphadora. "Odd name, yeah?"

Tonks scowls almost imperceptibly, her hair flashing red for just a moment. "Yes, just Tonks, thank you very much."

"Aren't you Sirius' niece?" I ask, reaching out and shaking her hand.

She pauses for a moment, frowning at me. "Yeah, I am. How'd you know that?"

I shrug. "He's mentioned you and your mum a few times," I say, rummaging through my mind for past conversations that I've had with him. "I think he's planning on reinstating her into the family. Don't tell her I said that though," I add, putting my finger on my lips.

Tonks eyebrows shoot into her hairline. "Really!? Gods, mum would be ecstatic to hear that. I know being kicked out hit her hard."

I put my finger to my lips, leaning in close as if sharing a secret. "Well, remember, I didn't say anything. I think Sirius may be getting into contact with you guys in a few weeks."

Tonks winks not so subtly, extending one eyelash so that it flutters dramatically. "Can do cousin. Hopefully I'll see you around!"

"Same to you!" I say as she waves at me, running off to do whatever she was doing, stumbling on the way and cursing loudly.

"I didn't know the two of you were related," Amelia concedes as she leads me back into her office. "Hopefully she can convince you to join up with us in the future."

I bite my lip as I chuckle quietly. "Looks like you've got your sights set on hiring me."

Amelia inclines her head. "I would be daft not to try to get my hands on you. I think you'd do quite well here. Don't let me pressure you though, as it's your decision to make." She throws a pinch of powder into the fire, the flames bursting green and licking at the polished granite mantel of the fireplace.

"Thanks for taking time out of your day to give me a tour Amelia."

"It was no problem at all. Just keep my Department in mind after graduation, yes?"

"I'll make sure to do that," I laugh, stepping through the fireplace as I say, "Greengrass Manor."

-::-

"Alright, I've got my cloak, I've got my wands, holsters, expanded pocket bag… everything by the looks of it," I mutter, thinking aloud as I run over the plan.

I'm going to shadow walk into the main office under my cloak. I can't rush into Amelia's first, because I'm sure there's some sort of sensor in there. Even if there's anti-apparition wards over the place, she wouldn't leave her security at just that.

I know that I can bypass most any wards with shadow walking, but I don't want to risk being caught immediately and having the whole plan go up in flames.

I throw the cloak over me, the fabric moulding to my body. Handy, that is. I don't know if it's because I'm half-dead or what, but the cloak fits me like a second skin from head to toe. A flick of my wand, and I've silenced my boots along with masking my scent. If any of the aurors in the office are running under sense augmenting spells I'd be in for a world of trouble if I didn't cast those.

In the blink of an eye, I'm standing in the Auror Headquarters.

The office is eerily quiet, at least compared to the hubbub it was in earlier, although I can still hear the general murmur of the few aurors who're working the night shift. By the sounds of it, they're playing cards. I peek my head around the corner, looking into a break room that I didn't notice on my initial trip.

Yep. They're playing cards.

I walk into the main office, glancing around for anything that may be important.

I notice a few sheets of parchment left out with information pertaining to different cases. Some of them are investigations into ex-Death Eaters, and I copy the forms with a quick gemino charm, folding them neatly and tucking them into my bag.

The sound of a scuffle to my left causes me to freeze up, glancing around to make sure that I haven't been caught.

Two aurors rush out of the break room, throwing their robes over their shoulders as they burst through the door.

"Diagon Alley you said?" One of them asks, a taller man with childish features, soft cheeks and large eyes.

"Yeah, it sounds like a fight from Knockturn spilled out into the rest of the Alley," his partner curses, checking his pockets quickly before pulling out a badge and pinning it to his robes, the other man doing the same.

With a quiet crack, they've disappeared, off to deal with whatever bar fight has made its way into the less seedy parts of Wizarding London.

I give a quiet gasp, inhaling deeply as I realize that I've held my breath all throughout that.

After a moment of making sure that the coast is clear, I take a peek into the Head Aurors office, blinking into it. This workspace is notably more luxurious than Amelia's, Scrimgeour obviously taking his image quite seriously.

There's a very Gryffindorish theme to the office, an abundance of red and gold in the furnishings, most notably in the plush leather seat situated behind a large cherry desk, brass gildings polished until they shine in the dark lining its joints.

Oh, great, he has a portrait of himself behind his seat. If that doesn't scream conceited, I don't know what does.

I check over his cabinets for wards, breathing a sigh of relief when I get nothing back.

Cocky bastard too, it seems.

I rummage through the cabinets, copying anything and everything that looks even mildly important, stuffing the sheets into my bag as I go.

It looks like I've hit a gold mine with this, as the man hasn't placed any protections whatsoever upon his office, not even the standard anti-copying charm that I would imagine anyone important would use on their documents.

Yeah. Conceited, and cocky as all hell.

I spend the next half hour just scouring over everything this man has written down, my eyes popping out of my head when I notice his rigorous documentation of bribes he's received from the likes of Lucius Malfoy, Atticus Goyle, and Walden Macnair.

Conceited, cocky, and a Death Eater sympathizer. Or, at the least, a greedy prick.

I happily copy his little black book, looking forward to dropping it on Amelia's desk later on.

Silently, I pop out of his office and into that of the Head Hit-Wizard.

Hit-Wizards are a funny thing. They're a highly trained militia, yet they tend to be forced into work that more resembles a riot squad or the Pinkertons of old as opposed to doing what they were originally created for. That being espionage, and operations of a more… sensitive nature.

It's a sad day when the magical equivalent of the MI5 is reduced to a group of bruisers that deal in simple tasks like public unrest or moderating a worker's strike.

Unfortunately for me, whoever leads the Hit-Wizards has taken much better care of his documents. His cabinets are warded, not extensively, but enough to give me pause as I attempt to dismantle them without setting off any alarms.

If I could still bleed, I'm sure a vessel in my nose would have popped by now. Sweat drips from my forehead as I wave my wand, painstakingly siphoning power from the wards and directing it outwards, letting the magic disperse as slowly as possible so as to not set off any alarms.

If there's a large burst of magic, wham, I'll have the whole of the auror force coming down on me in less than a minute when the magical sensors detect that.

Finally, after what seems like hours, but is probably much closer to thirty minutes, I bring the wards on his cabinets and desk down.

"Let's see what you went through so much trouble to protect," I murmur, leafing through folder after folder of miscellaneous documents.

I pull out another folder that gives me pause. While it doesn't directly implicate the Head Hit-Wizard in any way, it's very evident from these receipts and other assorted forms that he's receiving bribes in some way or another.

I can drop this off on Amelia's desk, but the worst thing that could happen would be an internal investigation. Like those ever end in anything.

I am confident that Scrimgeour is going to be out on his arse by the end of the week though. The man was brazen enough to keep records of all correspondence between himself and ex-Death Eaters in his own office.

Absolutely insane how this country still manages to run itself.

Absentmindedly, I remove the anti-copy charms from any important documents and quickly duplicate them, tucking them safely away.

I blink out of the Head Hit-Wizards office and into the Legilimancers, just in the off chance that there's anything important in there.

Unfortunately, there's fuck all related to Azkaban.

It looks like this guy really hasn't worked since the 80's, and it shows. Every surface in the office is covered in a thin layer of dust, and there's no indication that anyone actually works here due to the complete lack of any personal touch

In the off chance that there's anything remotely important lying around, I check through his folders as well after checking for wards. Thankfully, whatever wards the man once had on his filing cabinets have long since degraded, as he hasn't even been around to give off enough ambient magic to keep them running.

I find the mans documents to be fantastically concise, the mans notetaking methods incredibly succinct and to the point and in a format that's quite easy to read. That's going to make my job much easier.

I continue with my duplication extravaganza, painstakingly copying each and every mildly important looking document that I come across, now finally beginning to feel a drain on my magic after casting so many gemino charms.

Finally, I can get to the difficult and incredibly stressful part of my night, breaking into Amelia's office.

I blink out into the main workspace, beginning my task of putting down a silencing ward over her office in the very probably case that alarms go off when I blink in. I have to use a ward, as the magic is subtler and won't lead to me setting off any magic detection alarms that I also believe are used within the whole of the Auror Department. It would be incredibly short sighted for them to not have them, and I refuse to run the risk of alerting the Aurors before I've even had a chance to find any papers pertaining to Azkaban.

Fifteen minutes later, and I've painted my temporary wardscheme around Amelia's office, infusing it with magic and watching with satisfaction as the nearly invisible ink shines briefly before blinking out, signifying that the magic has taken hold.

With my fingers crossed and my breath held, I close my eyes tight and blink into Amelia's office, flinching at the sudden alarm bells going off, a magically synthesized voice screaming, 'Intruder! Intruder!'

Fuck is that ever loud.

I cast a silencing charm over the room, my ears immediately feeling better as the roaring klaxon stops pounding against my skull. Working as quickly as I can, I tear down the wards on her cabinets and desk with brute force. I leaf through her very well organized folders, muttering as I flick them away one by one.

Azkaban, Azkaban… where's Azkaban?

"Seriously, there fucking better be something here," I mutter angrily, continuing to rapidly sort through her folders. "Otherwise I've risked my ass again for nothing."

I wipe the sweat from my forehead, glancing behind me every so often, fully expecting the door to explode inwards and have aurors pile into the room en masse. For all I know they're trying to bust the door down right now.

My eyes flick over a familiar name, a smile spreading across my face as I pick up the folder. "There we go!" I grin as I begin the process of removing the anti-copy charms from everything, having to push a lot more power into it than when I rifled through Scrimgeour's office.

Looks like Amelia is just as much of a powerhouse magically as she is mentally.

Biting my lip, I manage to remove the charms and copy everything, putting the folder back in place and shutting the cabinet just as the door swings open, Amelia herself leading the charge.

"Drop your wand and get to the ground!" She shouts, casting an area stunner immediately, the spell dissipating against a hastily cast shield that quickly gives away my position, even while wearing the cloak. She glances towards the spot where my shield materialized into place, another torrent of spells flying in my direction that reflect harmlessly off of the shining aegis fortis that surrounds me.

I push my magic into the cloak and allow it go visible while still shrouding my face. Putting one hand up in the air, holding the folder containing the evidence of Scrimgeour's wrongdoing above me placatingly, I place my wand to my throat, distorting my voice as I reply, "I'm sorry Director Bones, but I can't do that."

She growls, flicking her wand aggressively and sending a cutting curse towards me. I roll out of the way, splinters peppering my back and her desk, a thin cloud of sawdust settling slowly through the air.

I glance down at the folder in my hand, wondering again how stupid the man was to keep those records in his own office in the Auror Department of all places.

"I'm not here to fight you, I just needed information, and I'm also giving you some," I state, slowly lower my hand and letting the folder slide onto her desk. "In here are documents that showcase the true extent of corruption within your own office, and a glimpse into the backdoor dealings of the Wizengamot."

Here eyes flick over the folder on her desk before once again casting a barrage of spells in my direction.

Looks like she doesn't want to talk.

Well, I don't need to be asked twice. In a flash, I blink back to my room at home and away from danger, collapsing against my bed as the excitement finally gets the better of me. I hold my hand to my chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of it as I pant away the adrenaline, wondering why my heart no longer beats yet my sympathetic nervous system still works just fine.

Magic is an odd beast I guess.

Grinning widely, I hold out my ill-gotten gains in front of me, staring in wonder at the files that I just stole from Amelia Fucking Bones herself.

"Wow," I gasp, in awe of how fantastically smooth that went.

Here's hoping Azkaban isn't a shit show.

Azaira: The basilisk hide is incredibly thick, so we're not going to see any 'armour' made from it, but Helene will probably get some fancy new neon green duds to roll around in at Hogwarts.

timefreak: I understand the dislike of the manipulative Dumbledore thing, especially with the way I've taken it, but it's a bit necessary for later plot and moments that I've planned to write in since starting this. I tried to use him as a temporary antagonist, but went too far with it.

Ironc: Nicht spreche kein Deutsch, aber danke! Google translate is my best friend right now.