Being a hit-wizard is not easy | Drarry

Chapter nine

Draco spends the rest of his Sunday afternoon watching TV with Pongo, he is a big fan of House M.D., although he doesn't really understand much of muggle medicine, especially the part where they open people up to cure them. This modern version of Sherlock Holmes with more sass and less respect for authorities, reminds Draco of a cool Dumbledore, most of the times he knows the answer from the beginning, but he still lets the other doctors work it out themselves by dropping cryptic hints here and there and then acting frustratingly smug when they reach the answer and he's like 'Ta-dah! Well done subspecies of human beings sent here to serve me, annoy me with your question and amuse me with your subpar knowledge of rare diseases. You've finally found the answer, congratulation! You almost killed the patient several times, you misdiagnosed him twice and run a bunch of useless tests, but in the end you did it! Of course, I could have given you the answer from the beginning, thus saving everyone time, money and the fear of almost dying, but where's the fun in that?' the bastard. Draco loves him. Pongo likes it too, or maybe he just likes the head and belly rubs he receives as he sits on Draco's lap.

As dinner approaches, Draco gets restless, time seems to be slowing down and ten o'clock seems ages away. He needs to talk to Kingsley and get the authorization to go after Yaxley. The presence of a hostage complicates things, Draco's main priority should be Yaxley, but he also can't exactly murder a man in front of his daughter, especially the way Draco usually works, which often gets messy. At the same time, a solo rescue mission would be really hard to complete without putting her in too much danger.

It's not like Draco isn't used to dangerous situations, but Yaxley isn't likely to leave the house long enough to allow Draco to save Alysha and if Draco and Yaxley duelled, the possibility of her getting caught in the crossfire is too high to risk it.

He skips dinner, too high-strung and worried to eat, and does something very stupid and rash.

He goes to his study and retrieves a small vial of muddy-looking potion. He hates Polyjuice with a passion, but he recognizes its benefits.

He has a small stash of different kinds of hair he's gathered in various ways, he's bought male hair from a barber down the street, while he's gotten the female hair from some real hair wigs, some others he's summoned from people with the characteristics he needed in terms of build, but the work was painstakingly dull, because he had to summon one hair at a time and couldn't get many from the same person as to not leave them with patches of missing hair. Each tuft of hair belonging to the same person has its own pouch, with a description of its owner. The work of classifying every set of hair has been a long and unpleasant process, in which Draco has had to polyjuice into each person and write down the main features for further use of the hair. This way he has an assortment of different options for every occasion, which might sound creepy, but he does what he has to in order to survive and do his job efficiently.

He selects one hair from the pouch of a man, it's still too early to fake being drunk, so homeless it is. The hair fizzles and disappears into the vial, making the potion turn a dark shade of green and Draco holds his breath to keep out the disgusting smell. He downs everything in one go and shudders as the change takes effect.

A minute later he's a fifty-something man with a scruffy beard and beady eyes, a large stomach and stubby legs. He wears a pair of joggers he transfigured into a ragged pair of jeans and an old long-sleeved t-shirt stained with something he doesn't want to think about. Unfortunately, even Polyjuice doesn't hide his mark, but he's learnt to keep it covered at all times.

He's far too clean to be a convincing homeless, but it won't be noticed with a simple glance and Draco hopes no one will be curious enough to approach him.