WILDFLOWER, hermione granger.

xxiii. tracks of my heart

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XXIII. TRACKS OF MY HEART
twenty three

"OH MY GOD," RON PANICKED, "WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? MY WIFE'S ALL ALONE DOWNSTAIRS?"

Ivy snorted from beside an anxious Hermione as Harry reached over, "Ron, you don't have a wife."

"Behave, Ivy," Hermione hissed.

"Look, we'll go with you—"

Ron immediately stopped Harry, "No, that's mad. You two find Umbridge. I'll be fine. But how do I stop it raining?"

"Try Finite Incantatem. Of course if something's gone wrong with an Atmospheric Charm—"

"Level Two. Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including Wizengamot Administration Services, Auror Headquarters and Improper Use of Magic Department."

Ivy jumped, startled. "Good lord. Try Surgito too, though I don't reckon it might work with an Atmospheric Charm."

The lift opened, Ron starting to back out as he nods, trying not to panic. "Finite Incantatem, Surgito, okay. And if those doesn't work...?"

"Try an umbrella!" Ivy yelled as the golden grilles of the lift close and she, Hermione, and Harry are swept away.

"I don't like him being on his own down there," Hermione uttered warily, reaching out to grab Ivy's hand.

Ivy winced, looking at their conjoined hands, "You're going to have to let go soon if someone else comes in—we haven't studied their mannerisms at all."

"Ron's been coming here since he was two years old. It's us you should be worrying about," Harry says... at least he doesn't fake optimism.

Hermione blinked at him blankly, "You really have horrible teeth, you know that."

Ivy furrowed her brows at him, "And I still do not like your identity."

Harry rolled his eyes as the voice of the elevator speaks again, "Level One. Minister of Magic and Support Staff..." The grilles clang open again and the remaining trio froze.

Standing next to a long-haired wizard, her neck enwrapped in a fuzzy pink scarf, was the she-devil herself... no, Ivy was kidding. It was Dolores Umbridge—the devil's godforsaken spawn. She looked up from the clipboard in her hand, seeing Hermione.

"Ah, Mafalda! Travers sent you, did he? Good. We'll go straight down," Umbridge stepped inside the lift, eyeing Ivy and Harry strangely. "Albert, Mazikeen, aren't you getting out?"

Harry and Ivy forced themselves to step out of the lift. The golden grilles clanged shut behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Harry saw Hermione's anxious face sinking back out of sight, a tall wizard on either side of her, Umbridge's velvet hair-bow level with her shoulder.

Ivy glared at Harry that could clearly translate to I fucking hate this, I need to go after her, god, why the hell did I agree—