American Royalty III

Part 16: Madness at the Ministry

An hour or so earlier

The street corner was eerily quiet. Harry, Ron, and Hermione crouched behind a building, watching the lone figure of a witch walking briskly down the cobblestone street. Annabeth and Piper stood beside them, both tense and ready. Annabeth, dressed sharply in her official robes, exuded calm authority, while Piper's expression was steely, betraying a mix of focus and unease.

"She's coming," Annabeth whispered, her grey eyes flickering with determination.

Ron adjusted his grip on his wand and stepped into the street, deliberately slowing his pace. The witch, Mafalda Hopkirk, didn't seem to notice as she passed him, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Ron knelt to fiddle with his shoelace, muttering under his breath.

"Anytime now," Piper whispered to herself, leaning forward slightly.

Zap! A spell hit Mafalda from behind, and she froze mid-step before collapsing into Harry's waiting arms. Annabeth was already scanning the street for witnesses.

"Clear," she said briskly.

Ron hurried back, and together with Harry, they dragged the unconscious witch into a nearby storage area where two wizards, also unconscious, were slumped against the wall. Hermione was already there, pouring Polyjuice Potion into cups.

"Right," Ron said, slightly out of breath. "Who gets who?"

Hermione plucked a hair from the witch and glanced between the two wizards. "Well, unless one of you fancies wearing a skirt..."

Ron wrinkled his nose, pointing at the taller wizard. "I'll take him."

Annabeth crossed her arms, studying the group. "Remember, no unnecessary risks. Blend in, follow the others, and don't draw attention to yourselves. The slightest misstep, and this whole mission falls apart."

Piper nodded. "And if something feels off, you bail. Got it?"

"Understood," Harry replied, his voice steady but grim. He glanced at the stunned trio before them. "This is completely mental."

"Completely, utterly, without question," Hermione agreed.

"The world's mental," Ron muttered. "Come on, let's get this over with." He grabbed his cup and downed the potion, wincing as it took effect. Moments later, the others followed suit, grimacing as their bodies transformed.

When it was over, Annabeth adjusted her own robes, her sharp gaze lingering on Harry. "You're Runcorn, one of the higher-ups. That means people might fear you. Use it wisely, but don't overplay your hand."

Piper smirked. "And I'm just here to keep an eye on Ron. Try not to trip over your own feet, Cattermole."

Ron, now looking like Reg Cattermole, shot her a look. "Funny."

The group emerged onto Whitehall Street, their disguises in place. Ron fiddled with his ID card. "In case anyone's interested, I'm Reg Cattermole, Magical Maintenance Department."

Hermione, now Mafalda Hopkirk, straightened her posture. "Mafalda Hopkirk, Improper Use of Magic Office."

"Albert Runcorn," Harry muttered, patting his pockets. "Apparently."

"You're somebody," Annabeth said, falling into step beside him. "Act like it. Quiet confidence."

They moved toward the public toilets, where a skinny wizard descended the stairs. Piper nudged Ron. "What do you reckon he meant by 'Good luck'?"

"Nothing good," Ron muttered.

Inside the dimly lit gentlemen's toilet, Harry and Ron slipped into separate cubicles, following the others' lead. Harry hesitated, eyeing the bowl. "We flush ourselves in?"