The War | The Sister Book #4 | Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter Eight

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This is mental. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I stand in the dim light of a large room, the ground concrete and its walls lined with dumpsters. The air stinks of rubbish, but I try to ignore it. We stare at the four people lying unconscious on the ground in front of us; One man in a leather jacket with dark hair and a stern, square face, another man with ginger hair and moustache, a long face and messy clothes, a woman with neat hair pulled into a french twist, and a matching skirt and blazer, and another woman, with dark hair and pale skin, similar to mine, whose clothing is semi-formal. 

We undress them, and then pluck a few hairs from each of their heads, placing them in four bottles of polyjuice potion. I grimace at the bubbling green liquid, glancing at the dark-haired witch and then back at the group. 

"Maybe you should wait at Grimmauld, Clara," Harry suggests, "Considering-"

"Considering we'll be seeing Umbridge?" I ask, sighing and without a second thought downing the flask in one gulp- I regret that decision immediately, gagging as the taste of off milk and soap fills my mouth. 

The others immediately follow suit, and I double over, cussing as I feel my insides snake and boil, my face bubbling and stretching into a new one, heat raging under my skin and melting it away to reveal hers. 

Finally, I blink, standing straight and looking at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who look nothing like themselves, in clothing the wrong size. Wordlessly, we get changed, and as I pull on the witch's blazer I notice her ring. I reach down slowly, slipping it off her finger and onto mine. I take her purse out of the blazer's pocket, checking her identification before I put it back down. Her name is Mary Elizabeth Cattermole, who lives on 27 , 27 Chislehurst Gardens, Great Tolling, Evesham. 

"You and Ron are married," Hermione smirks, glancing at Mary's ID over my shoulder. 

I glance at Ron, "Well then, husband, should we go?"

Ron, rather flustered, nods as he straitens his large coat and turning towards the door. We slip out, glancing awkwardly at each other. I shuffle beside Ron, taking his arm as we start walking towards the entrance to the Ministry, following a few Ministry employees towards some public bathrooms. I glance at Ron, who gives me a nervous, but affirming look as we reach the small white building. I slip from his grasp, nodding goodbye to the boys and following Hermione to the girl's bathrooms. 

"Ron says we flush ourselves in, which is what I've read." Hermione murmurs to me, and I nod as we walk inside the packed public bathroom. 

The witches and wizards form uniform lines to each stall, taking a step forward every few moments as another person goes inside the cubical, and doesn't come out. Hermione and I join two lines, and as my stomach lurches, I force myself to be calm, focussing only on the continuous rhythm of flush, step, flush, step, flush- 

My hand shakily reaches for the door and I push it open, closing it behind me and frowning at the small toilet. We flush ourselves in. Alright. I awkwardly step up and into the toilet bowl, gaining my balance, and then taking a breath as I pull down on the chain, flushing the toilet. 

For a moment I fall blankly through the air, rushing and swirling in a mess of movement until finally, I snap back into being, stepping out of a flash of green light and into a flurry of people. I blink in the large room, recognising the lines of polished black brick fireplaces all alight with bright green flames, and the fountain at one end. I remember saving Harry's life here two years ago. 

Suddenly, two men in uniform grab my arms and reach into my pocket, pulling out a wand- Mary's wand, not mine- Shit, I thought I left it with her. I struggle against the two men, and they pull me back, holding my arms firmly. 

"You're late, come with us." One of them says, pulling me back towards the elevators, 

I catch Harry's eye across the room, and he falters, just briefly. I shake my head. No, no, don't break our cover, get the Horcrux, then worry about me. 

"Let go of me," I hiss, as they practically carry me by my arms into one of the elevators, ignoring my request and shoving my back into the small golden compartment as it swings backwards, and then abruptly drops down. I yelp, grabbing onto the handles that hang from the ceiling. 

The elevator jolts, stopping and swinging forward as the metal door opens to reveal a long, dark corridor made of the same black brick. The department of mysteries. I hate this. I hate all of it. 

"Where are you taking me?" I ask quietly, and the two men glance at each other as they grab my arms, 

"Your hearing." 

My heart leaps into my throat as they drag me to the right, into a thin corridor, and then an abrupt left, stopping before a small black door. One of them steps forwards and says a password that I don't hear, and the door immediately swings open to reveal a long, dark room, one wall lined with tiny cells, each filled with one person. I swallow, my throat dry. 

"We found her," One of the men holding my arms says shoving me into the room and taking me to the far end, in a cell opposite another small black door. 

Another official in the same blue uniform, a woman this time, stands by the door and raises an eyebrow at me in disgust. Who am I? What on earth did I do? 

"Good try, you're next."

They push me back into the small cell with golden, diamond-shaped bars and a single seat. the door clicks shut and I sink back down onto the small, black bench behind me. I still have my wand, tucked into my blouse sleeve. I'll fight my way out if I have to, and I hope Harry and the others know that. They don't have to come and find me. 

Someone knocks once on the door and it opens, a man in a black suit is escorted out, yelling in protest, something about his children needing him- I watch him as they drag him past the cells and out of the room. 

Two new guards walk through the same door and to my cell. They open the door, grabbing my arms and leading my back the way they came, into a large octagonal room, with benches on each wall interrupted only by doors. Above me I see a swirl of grey, the ceiling a mess of dementors watching me, held back by an invisible ceiling. My eyes flicker back down. At the centre of the tiled white and black floor is a large, black wooden chair, which faces where the judge sits on the highest seat in the room, with a bench before her and a Patronus cat sitting by her side, 

My knees buckle as my insides scream at me to go back, not her, not her again, please not this again. 

They shove me into the seat and my eyes don't leave the floor. 

Please, I can't do this again. 

xxx

I'm late again sorry guys year 11 is hard not to scare you or anything but goddamn

Like it's a lot of work and I wanna get into like a pretty up there uni and my ATAR is stressing me out soooo much

Anyway

Hope you're all having a wonderful day,

Taylor xxx