𝑩𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 | 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒇𝒐𝒚 | 𝟑

| twelve |

Chapter twelve; Just our luck

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Olivia turned her head to look at Ron after he prodded her in the side, "What?" She asked.

"Why are you shaking?" Ron asked curiously.

"Gee, I don't know Ron. It's a total mix of reasons, one of them being the fact you three are about to break into the Ministry posing as actual workers!" She whisper shouted, turning away to check round the corner again.

"No need for you to get your wand in a knot, jezz." He muttered besides her as Olivia watched Hermione discreetly stun Mafalda Hopkirk before catching her and pulling her into where her and Harry were hiding. She turned her head when Ron tapped her shoulder again.

"What?" She scolded.

Ron recoiled quickly, "I was just going to say that you should never go blonde, you really don't suit it."

Olivia scowled at Ron, "You're lucky I'm not stunning you." She looked round the same corner again to see Hermione giving them the signal they had agreed on, "Come on." She ushered, leaving Ron behind the wall and running to them while checking around her for anyone watching. She slipped in when she was sure no one had seen her, Ron following her a few seconds behind.

Lined up on the floor were their targets. Mafalda Hopkirk, a woman Umbridge seemed to keep by her side, despite this she looked to have seen better days. Her face was strict-looking and on her forehead sat crinkles. Even stunned her lips were pressed into a thin line, looking ready to scold anyone in sight.

"Okay Hermione. Mafalda Hopkirk is an assistant in the Improper Use of Magic Office, Umbridge's literal heaven if you ask me. Yes Harry she is the woman who sent you that Howler in third and fifth year when you used magic outside of school—"

"—can you please stop doing that?" Harry asked, "it's the third time this week."

"You should be thankful that I can do it after not having been able to for weeks, I'm probably the closest thing you've got to retraining actual information today." Olivia said, crossing her arms and looking to Harry.

He grumbled under his breath about her being right but not understanding personal space, "Never mind that." Hermione said, "Carry on Olivia."

"Right." She nodded, "she has indirect contact with Death Eaters— as we know with Yaxley, so on and blah, blah, blah— you work under Travers, a Death Eater who escaped Azkaban two years ago when Bellatrix did, on Level two. Fair warning, he absolutely despises Muggle-borns. Be discriminative about yourself as wrong as it seems. I reckon despite doing what she's doing, she's actually a nice woman."

Hermione nodded, "Because that makes sense."

"She does what she has to in order to survive like every other witch and wizard who doesn't have the bollocks to stand up to him." She replied, looking to Hermione, "moving on—"

Next to Mafalda laid Reg Cattermole, the man Ron would become. He had receding hairline that looked stress-induced, it was of a fair colour but he seemed to have possibly been a ginger at one point in his life. He had large creases on his forehead and either side of his nose. Under his eyes sat bags and he harboured a moustache on his top lip.

"—Ron this is you, Reginald Cattermole or otherwise known as Reg. Your wife, Mary Cattermole, is a Muggle-born and is expected to pay visit to the Ministry any day now. It'd be just our fucking luck if that day was today, eh?"

"It'll be all we need." Ron mumbled.

"Too right, anyways you have three kids. Two daughters, Maisie and Ellie, and a son Alfred although I'm not sure how old they are. I don't think any of them have started Hogwarts yet. You live at 27 Chislehurst Gardens, Great Tolling, Eversham and you're employed in the Magic Maintenance Department .. so, uh," Olivia patted his shoulder a few times, "good luck with that one."