Chapter 20 - Impersonation

Thursday, 5:43pm, New Year's Eve.

Dusk was well underway when Anders Tollen exited the Ministry, looking forward to the long weekend ahead. Things had been chaotic at the Ministry as of late. Rumorings of the prime suspect's reemergence had been floating around. If there was one thing he was not looking forward to, it was interrogating a suspected Death Eater. He could kick himself for having the 'new employee trying to prove themselves' complex when he volunteered to do it.

But it was now officially the weekend and Anders was not going to let any thoughts of his pending duties ruin his New Year's plans.

Anders lived in a muggle community with his squib wife, so traveling on the public transportation system was nothing new for him.

Except for some reason the person being pressed up against the door with him, since they were the last two to enter the train, seemed familiar for some reason.

It couldn't have been an old schoolmate, at least not that he could remember. She couldn't have been too much younger though since she was wearing what appeared to be nursing scrubs. Too bad he couldn't read the font on the nametag without things becoming fairly inappropriate.

The train started moving and he began counting down the stops until his as he usually did, but with much more urgency. Anders had gotten himself stuck next to a frotteurer who had obviously found someone that struck his fancy, leaving Anders to inch his way closer to the nurse. The nurse, unfortunately, didn't take too lightly to being stepped on and glared at him for the proximity. With no where to go he submitted to his spot between the irritated nurse and the gyrating man.

At one particular stop, a good portion of the train emptied, forcing him to out of the train with the mass of people. By now he felt like a sardine that was now getting pushed all over the place. Anders managed to get back on the train before the doors closed and endured the rest of the ride home. It was when he did finally get home that he realized something was terribly wrong.

He had left his wand and ministry keys at work.

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Harry was pacing in front of the fireplace, checking his watch every thirty seconds or so. It felt like hours had passed when in fact it had only just barely been one. There was absolutely no need to panic…yet. He stopped for the umpteenth time to check his watch, learning it had only been twenty-three seconds since the last time he had checked. Groaning, he began pacing again. He involuntarily let out an odd sounding startle noise when he heard the loud pop resonate in the open room.

He turned to see who he assumed was Brooklyn standing where he had just been pacing, a coy smile residing on her face. She reached into the front pocket of the dingy green coat she was wearing, retrieving what she had set out to get.

"Oh, you're good." Harry said, fairly amused.
"Well, he didn't exactly make it difficult." Brooklyn said, her appearance still unchanged from the façade. "He was too preoccupied with the people surrounding him to notice me."
He smirked. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you look like a completely helpless old lady."
She shrugged as she placed the set of keys and wand on the table. "I was going more for 'suffering from an incurable illness'. Now come here and give me a kiss."
"You're joking…right?" He really hoped she was.
"Does it look like I'm joking?"
"Umm…" He really couldn't tell. There were so many wrinkles. "Yes?"
"Well I'm not, so come here." She said without wavering.
"Uh…"
"Don't make me come to you. You've never had a problem before."
"That's because y-"
"Because what? Are you going shallow on me?"
"You can pass for my great great grandmother!" He practically whined.
She crossed her arms. "Well now I'm just insulted, it should be grandmother at the most." With a huff she morphed back into her usual self. "Happy now?"

Knowing that they most likely didn't have much time before the unsuspecting Ministry worker figured out that he was missing some of his most vital belongings, they wasted no time in undergoing their plan to break into the Ministry. Brooklyn didn't spend much time looking like herself as she quickly transformed into a man Harry had never seen before. She caught him off guard when she quickly turned him around and muttered a spell that bound his hands behind his back.

Harry looked at her questioningly. She shrugged. "Got to act the part."

Before going into public, Harry was able to convince her to let him roam free until it would become impossible to not rouse suspicion. He tried to remain calm and confident about their plan. Relying on repressed memories of yet another trauma and trying to get passed a seemingly permanently locked door to get a hold of a power he wasn't even sure of its function.

Not to mention the fact that he wasn't even sure how this power would benefit him or if it even would.

Harry found his hands again bound behind his back once again, being led by the upper right arm toward the Ministry. Naturally, everyone within viewing distance was staring. The hatred emanating from some eyes startled him. Some were whispering. He didn't want to know what about, though he was fairly certain it couldn't be good. Brooklyn tugged on his arm. It was then he noticed he was lagging.

"So, uh, what was your name again?" Harry asked awkwardly, trying to keep his mind off of the onlookers.
She quietly cleared her throat. "I don't remember the first name," she whispered, "The last name should be enough to get in. Now just stay calm and don't do anything stupid."

That's when Harry noticed a few people with shape identifiers aimed directly at him. He muttered a string of obscenities to himself.

At least the spectators were starting to dwindle as the sun was quickly setting. By the time they reached the Ministry, the sun had fully set and the street lights were guiding their way.

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"Honey, they will still be there in the morning. Don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about?!" Anders said horrified. "That's pretty much my livelihood I left behind!"
"But it's still rush hour," Evelyn, his wife, whined. "And besides, you need to make the jello shots before people start arriving!"
"Can't you just make them?" She simply glared, arms folded across her chest. "Fine, fine. I'll make them, but I'm going to get my stuff as soon as I'm done!"
"If you're not back by the time the first person arrives…"
"Please tell me you at least went and bought the jello."
"No." She said indignantly.
"Evelyn!!!!"
"You said you were going to take care of all of that when you got home tonight. Be happy the liquor store is on my way home from work or you would have to stop there too."

Anders started groaning and changed quickly into civilian clothing to go to the grocery store.

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They arrived at the telephone booth and dialed the sequence of numbers.

After the receptionist answered, Brooklyn cleared her throat. "This is Tollen. I'm assigned to the Weasley disappearance and have brought in a suspect to question."
Harry kept a straight face, even though her attempt to deepen her voice was quite comical.
"And would this be the prime suspect?" She responded with a hint of uneasiness.
Brooklyn affirmed her inquiry and picked up the badge that read, 'Harry Potter: Interrogation'.
"Very well. Don't forget the wand registry."

At the end of the Atrium, Harry had no choice but to deposit his wand. He was fairly certain that trying to slip in someone else's would blow their cover immediately. They surely had his wand composition and dimensions on record for such an occasion. The few people that were left in the Ministry were giving Brooklyn approving nods and statements of encouragement, while they glared at Harry.

It was lucky for them that there were few people there, for it took a few hallways before finding the office with 'Anders Tollen' on the door. Brooklyn took the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

"Well if you don't mind me saying Anders, this doesn't look like the Department of Mysteries to me." Harry stated, wishing she would unbind his hands soon.

She didn't respond. Instead she began sifting through papers on his desk and going through files in drawers. Just as quickly as she mumbled something about a locked file cabinet, she produced a key to open it. After moving the front files out of the way she pulled out a fairly thick file and practically threw it on the desk.

Classified. Confidential. High Security. You name it, it was stamped in red on it.

According to the file Ron's disappearance was not a missing person's case after all. It was officially categorized as a homicide, though publicly referred to otherwise to prevent mass hysteria. A quick scan of the case clearly showed that they had no evidence whatsoever to suspect Ron dead. In fact, Harry came to the conclusion that they were jumping to this conclusion as an indirect way of the Ministry summoning him for his services without having to go through the Order to get to him.

The Anders looking Brooklyn burned the file and made the remnants disappear. "So, which way to The Department of Mysteries?"

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Jello.

It's amazing the ways one person could ruin a recipe so incredibly simple. But Evelyn somehow managed to do it and he was now stuck in the lingering rush hour traffic on the way back from the grocery store. He ultimately knew his wife was right and that his keys and wand would be safe inside the Ministry. He just had this nagging coming from the back of his mind convincing him that he had not forgotten them and he had in fact left with them both. The thought of someone stealing his belongings was naturally disturbing, but this was different. He was different.

He was the man with all of the information anyone could ever want on Harry Potter. All details on paper and memorized.

If Evelyn found out that he was the one who took on the bulk of the case, she would surely kill him for doing something so foolish. Fact is, he was more concerned about other people trying to kill him to get to the information. And even though it was classified information that Anders was to conduct most of the investigation, if someone were to know the right people and ask the right questions….

Anders pulled back into his driveway and found all of the utensils he would need already set out for him. He quickly made the jello mix, divided it into three different bowls, and then added different alcohol to each. After placing them all in the refrigerator, he kissed his wife goodbye and headed back to work.

He had just under two hours to get back.

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"I'll try to avoid the brain room this time," Harry said solemnly as he stared at the large, circular, rotating room.
"What…?" Brooklyn said, now looking as herself.
"You'll know if I find it. Just hope I don't."

Harry was now armed with Anders Tollen's wand, Brooklyn with her own. He opened the door closest to him, marking it with a red X like Hermione had years ago. He knew immediately what it was and slammed it shut. If he went down to check out the veil again, he was sure he would hear Sirus' voice and the pull would be too much to resist this time. Ignoring Brooklyn's questioning gaze, he waiting for the doors to stop spinning before trying another one. Harry felt his door begin to open and decided to shut it without looking in. The door of rooms began to spin once again.

Harry noticed that there was an additional red X from the two he had made.

"It was locked." Brooklyn said.
Harry walked over to where she was standing. "Alright, I know simple unlocking charms don't work, so I bet more complex ones won't either."
"I can try to pick it." Brooklyn offered.
"I tried that." He said gravely. "Melted the knife."

Brooklyn appeared to be in deep thought. Knowing it was a long shot, Harry decided to try opening the door with a staff wand. It didn't budge or make a sound. Brooklyn knelt down and appeared to be looking for a keyhole. She quickly ran from door to door doing the same thing. When she was finished she was beaming.

"It's the only door without a keyhole!"
"And that's a good thing, because…?"
"I've opened a few doors like this before. It's almost like a combination to a safe, you need to perform the right sequence of charms, spells, whatever to open it."
"Well how to we know which one's to try?"
"They usually revolve around whatever it's protecting." She looked to Harry. "What's your best guess of what this power is?"

Harry rubbed his face, stifling a groan. Something Voldemort did not possess. Well, that was simple. He had been told this many times by many different people.

Love.

He shook his head. It seemed way too simple. Could it be immortality? No. That is what Voldemort was trying to achieve with the Stone. He noticed Brooklyn staring at him.

Feeling somewhat foolish, he told her. "I think it's love."
A huge grin spread across her face.
Now he really felt stupid. "It's just what everyone's been telling me for years!"
"Harry think!" She took his shoulders.

He was really feeling dumb now. She had the answer already and he was still scrambling for clues. It was torturous.

Torture…Cruciatius Curse…Voldemort…Graveyard…

"Old magic." He whispered. "My mum…Voldemort said it was old magic."

Now would be the perfect time for Hermione to still alive. She would be a walking, talking history textbook and could probably think of 10 spells off of the top of her head.

"Please tell me you were about to stay awake in History of Magic."
"I did, but it wouldn't help much."
His hopes sank with a dark realization. "Brook, my mum had to die to create the life bond. That's what saved me."
"I know." She stated simply as she pulled out her wand. "Even though it's useless against him now, I think we'll be in luck here."

Harry knew where this was going and held out the arm where the blood that been taken to supply Voldemort. The scar had faded, but the faint white line was still visible against his skin. He felt a slight prick, as if from a needle, and the tip of her wand was coated with his blood. She held it to the nonexistent keyhole. Nothing happened.

Brooklyn obviously agreed as she threw her arms up in disgust, telling the locked door exactly what she thought of it.

That's when Harry noticed that her wand had not dropped to the floor like it should have when she let it go. Instead, it was sticking straight out of where she had put it. He walked passed the still ranting Brooklyn and quietly said, Alohomora.

The nonexistent lock clicked.