Chapter 6: Plots, Plans, and Potions

"You're insane," Hermione said as soon as the stun of Emily's offer wore off. Her wand, though, still remained low.

"I've been told that."

"What makes you think I want you-that I need you? Besides, I don't even know your names!"

"Emily Potter," Emily said.

"Ron Weasley, at your service," Ron said.

"Look-you're smart," Emily said. Hermione shifted around a bit. "You've got more than enough for three polyjuice doses, by my count."

"Four, actually."

"Are you really going to pull off four, high-profile heists by yourself?" Hermione shook her head. "Here's our offer then: we help you rob whichever nob you're planning on robbing. We get a slice of the pull each, and you get enough to pay the Goblin off and we then go our separate ways."

"Why would I need to pay that greedy bastard off?"

"He knows where you live. And while your disguise is clever enough, he'd find out, even if you burnt this place to a crisp. Goblins are resourceful like that. And if he found out you were a Mudblood? Death would be the best-case scenario. Just pay him through us after the job and we'll make sure he's off your back."

Hermione paused, not responding. It looked as if half of her wanted to continue the duel. The other half, though, won out. "As it happens, the job I was planning would require at least one other. Two for a maximum chance of success."

"You already had someone in mind?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I'd have to imperius someone. Risky, as you both should know."

While the imperius curse was extremely powerful, able to transform anyone into an unwilling slave, it did have its fair share of limitations and issues. Mainly, resisting it was possible, especially to those trained as Occlumens or those who were exposed to mind magic in the past. It could also be defeated by a particularly powerful dispelling charm-a similar enchantment existed in the entrance of Hogwarts and the Ministry. There were of course other spells, but those also had their own drawbacks. Better instead to have willing co-conspirators.

"Well, you can now you have us," Emily said.

"You don't even know me," Hermione said. "And I don't know I can trust you."

"Trust in words is overrated. Trust actions. I gave you back your wand when the law says you should be burnt alive. As for you… you're right; I don't know you. I just know you're a highly talented witch playing the part of a hag who can cook Polyjuice by herself. I trust your ability. Plus, you have a plan. That's more than Ron and me have ever had."

"Why even do this? If caught, you're facing death."

Emily shrugged. "Runs in the family." When Hermione raised her eyebrow, she added, "My parents were members of the Order. Needless to say, rebellious nature is in my blood."

"Need the gold," Ron said, shrugging. "I'd rather do one job and be done versus a dozen jobs for a Goblin, get dirt pay, and end up getting shanked by a random automaton again."

"Again?" Hermione asked.

"Long story."

"Well," Hermione said. "You're both crazy. And magically capable. I'm going to regret this. But alright. If you want in, you're in." There was a moment of silence. "Magical oath?"

"No!" Ron said. "My ass still chafes every time I call Fred George."

"Big family," Emily said.

Hermione nodded. "Fine. Betray me though, and you'll die to regret it. How do you want to split it? What we make, that is?"

Emily shrugged. "40 for you, since it's your plan and your potion. Then thirty for both me and Ron."

"Sounds fair. It should be more than enough."

With the situation defused, they lowered their wands. They even helped Hermione spruce the place up, repairing the damage they caused with their curses. There was little in the way of apology from either party, but at least there was peace. As they went, Hermione told them more about her hag scam.

"Most hag potions are just normal potions," she said. "Some require a hag's touch, but that's a small minority. No, most of the time, I could make it myself."

"And if you couldn't?" Ron asked.

"I'd buy one from a real hag, of course. Most people give a lot more to Hags in terms of galleons than most small potionmakers. Must be the destructive magic they can cast. It's quite lucrative, actually."

They finished cleaning everything a short while later, moving over to a set of transfigured seats. As they did, Hermione danced a set of glasses over, and sat them down on the table in front of them.

"Tea, gentlemen? I've also got firewhiskey, beer, wine, and Niffler milk."

"Tea," they said at the same time.

The glasses filled themselves, the liquid coming seemingly from nowhere. Hermione's own glass filled with beer, which she chugged half the glass of. As she put it down again, the glass filled itself once more. Emily took a sip of the tea-simple black, with a tiny trace of energy potion; powerful enough to leave her up the whole night if she drank it all down.

"So, who are we robbing?" Ron asked.

Hermione set her glass down. "A rich socialite playboy." She waved her hand. "You might know his sister, though. Sirius Black." Emily and Ron shared a look. "You know him?"

"You could say that."

"Bastard killed my parents," Emily said.

It was close enough to the truth. In the early 80s, Dumbledore's resistance group, the Order of the Phoenix, was on the losing side. After 30 years since the War was lost, they were at the end of their ropes. Raids, assassinations, and mass executions were ramping up. Two young recruits rose through the ranks to become Dumbledore's chief lieutenants; her parents: James and Lily Potter.

Emily never knew much about her parents. What little she knew came from propaganda; the notion that her parents had willingly spread dragonpox in pureblood orphanages or bred willingly with demons was too much for her to believe. But she did pick up a few things, over the years: that they were madly in love, and that they did have a single child, whom they also loved.

After a devastating defeat, James and Lily went into hiding, using the Fidelius charm to vanish from the world. There she and her parents would've remained for eternity, had Sirius Black not revealed the secret to Lord Voldemort, who in turn murdered her parents. Sirius had been James' best friend at Hogwarts and also a chief member of the resistance. In return for her father's love, he returned only with blood. He even killed Peter Pettigrew, their other mutual best friend, in cold blood, in the middle of the street.

For his loyalty to Voldemort and the regime, Sirius was regaled with rewards and titles. The Black name, already famous, soared to new heights. His sister climbed through Auror ranks. He meanwhile drank and whored his way through London.

Her entire time in Hogwarts, she wanted to kill him. She even got as far as the street of his townhouse, before a tagteam of Ron and Neville stopped her. She was already on short notice with her last name. Had she gone through with it, she would definitely be dead. Now, though...

"No," Hermione said, as if reading her mind. "You can't."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Emily asked.

"First, it's my Polyjuice, and you're not using it for a murder revenge fantasy. Second, the plan hinges on us getting in and out without detection or making too much noise. Black isn't in government, and his sister might actually thank us for doing him in. But you can bet she'd still curse us dead and hunt us down. If you can't accept that, then leave."

"Em-" Ron said.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to take a shot at him."

"I can imagine," Hermione said. "You think you're the only one who hasn't lost family to this maddening regime? I could use Polyjuice to kill the Minister if I wanted. Walk right into his office as his wife and curse him. It wouldn't change a thing. I would be dead in a week. My parents would still be dead. Malfoy would be replaced by another-Bellatrix, my guess. And the machine will still churn. You've made it to adulthood, so I'm assuming you've learned the first lesson."

"Which is?"

"Survive. No matter the cost or difficulty. You know this. Your parents fought and died."

"I'm not a coward."

"You're a survivor."

Emily took a deep breath. Hermione was right, in the end. Sirius Black deserved to die, as did the rest of the whole rotted regime. But if she went after him, her parents would've died for nothing. This way, she could hurt Black where he lived: taking his ill-begot gains. That revenge would have to do, for the time being.

"Fine," Emily said. "I won't kill him. But what are we stealing?"

Hermione shrugged. "I've never been inside his place. But he's got to be loaded. We're talking ancient paintings, rare potions and books, enchantments, jewels, to say nothing of the sheer galleons."

"Wouldn't those be in Gringotts?" Emily asked.

Hermione shook her head. "A few years back I was a cocktail waitress for a lesser Auror. I overheard, in no uncertain terms, how the wealthiest hoard wealth outside of the bank. No trust in the Goblins. They of course still have accounts, as that allows them access to loans, but their true wealth is kept far out of Goblin hands."

"Makes sense," Ron said. "My brother, Bill, works for them. They're always on about getting more stuff from Wizards."

"So, we just waltz in, steal whatever's not nailed down, and walk out?" Emily asked.

"Pretty much," Hermione said.

"We're all flaming mad," Ron said.

"Surely you have more than that," Emily said. "What about wards? Defences? Guards?"

Hermione smiled, and started telling her plan. By nightfall, Emily was increasingly convinced that the plan, while still absolutely insane, could just work. They'd have to move in three nights, when Black's next big affair would be, which left them precious little time to do last minute recon and nab the genetic material they needed to become carbon copies, but still. It could work.

"So, let's recap," Hermione said as the night was drawing to a close. "Emily and I will Polyjuice as two squib socialites, while Ron is on backup and support."

Emily nodded at the first bit, recalling the intel. Sirius Black was a playboy: he loved sex as much as a thirsty man loved water. Even she had heard of his exploits; a lesser man, with a lesser sister, would already be dead. Once, he had slept with a Veela matriarch's wife. The scandal rocked the French government. Another time, he had cajoled the pants off of the American Minister's brother; again, more scandal, more resignations. His parties were tales of legend: debauched spectacles of raucous orgies. Even Slughorn, partier that he was, once came back from a Black party in the 3rd year and limped for an entire month.

The way in was fairly simple then: take the faces of two squibs known (thanks to the society pages) to frequent Black's parties. While Hermione and her were pretty enough to show up on their accord without Polyjuice, neither were really an option: Hermione's face was worth a thousand galleons for capture, and Emily looked like her parents too much; her dad's hair and her mum's eyes, according to what those who knew them said. Plus, this way, Emily wouldn't be potentially pinned on a major theft.

The two marks were the typical socialites prevalent in the upper class: daughters of powerful Ministry officials, half-blooded, yet unfortunate enough to be squibs. With their ounce of magical blood, they had at least two generations before a new wizard or witch born from them would be considered mudblood-if they married Muggle. Their jobs and lives were simple, then: to breed as often as possible. If the child growing in their belly didn't have magic, they'd just abort it and try again. They were both in their mid-20s: Clarissa von Ribbentrop and Melania Clarke, and beyond beautiful.

They'd been attending Black's parties for half a year now, but still had no child (confirmed by Hermione, who had scouted a few weeks back). Doubtless there was a great flirtatious back-and-forth, but no real action as of yet. While Hermione could've gone in as just one, she was afraid that Black would've just been focused on her as she would be alone; no time to sneak off and rob him. With two people, they'd be able to play him off the other, swapping as needed to keep his attention distracted.

Ron, lucky Ron, would be on backup support and helping reroute any anti-thievery wards. While they did have enough Polyjuice, they all agreed to save the other two doses, just in case. And besides-Ron couldn't go as himself. Black apparently preferred older, huskier men.

"I'm not having sex with the man," Emily said. They had already argued and belaboured the point.

"Neither of us are," Hermione said. "Believe me, I don't want that dog's dick anywhere near me."

"It's just an hour anyways, not like much could happen," Ron said.

Hermione and Emily stared at Ron, their glare cutting through the air.

"Well, I'm going to go," Emily said. "See ya tomorrow?" Hermione nodded; they had agreed to tackle the socialites tomorrow.

"I'll get to work on the wards," Ron said. "Any issues, I'll call you."

"Sounds good," Emily said.

Hermione stuck out her hand. Emily took it and shook it. "Thank you," she said, smiling. It looked pretty. There were little enough reasons to smile nowadays.

"We're in this together now, through thick and death," Emily said. She shared a look and nod with Ron. "Bye."

And with a twist and a crack, she was gone.