Harry nodded.
"Then, you sneak back through your secret passageway, and cast the imperius curse on Ginny. Ginny floos to Potter Manor, and you apparate me and the male Weasley to the edge of the Potter Manor wards, where you'll have already set up a small-area fidelius charm."
He nodded again.
"Then Ginny loses John and sneaks off to find the cloak. You take control of Ginny, and use magic to help the search—summoning spells, point me spells, et cetera."
He nodded again, although his eyes were starting to glaze over.
She forged ahead. "You have Ginny take a ten-minute polyjuice potion to make her look like the male Weasley, and I push the real male Weasley over the Potter wards so they record him entering the Manor. You, controlling Ginny, find the cloak, and make a break for the ward line. Ginny waits there under the cloak for the polyjuice potion to wear off, then throws the cloak to me, and I pull the male Weasley back over the ward line. Then Ginny leaves to find John, they have an argument, Ginny leaves in a huff, we take the male Weasley back to the Burrow, give him the living-death antidote, implant false memories, and Ginny spends the next week popping veritaserum antidote sweets every morning and evening."
"…"
Harry blinked owlishly at her. He leant back in his chair. "Okay, good effort. Seriously. Now you're going to tell me what's wrong with that plan."
She felt a bit sheepish. "Too complex?"
"There's nothing wrong with a complex plan, if it's also the plan with the best risk-to-probability-of-success ratio, but the more complex a plan is, the more likely it is for something to go wrong. That plan is pretty complex. What else is wrong?"
"Um… John Potter might not invite Ginny over?"
He shrugged. "That's just a matter of waiting for an opportunity. If one didn't turn up we could always make one."
"Can't really think of anything else."
"Really? You pretty much acknowledged the biggest weakness yourself, right at the end."
She looked at him, face as blank as a clean slate.
"You want Ginny to take veritaserum antidote for a week after the mission. By doing so you acknowledge the danger that Ginny could be suspected of involvement, and even questioned."
"Ah. You're saying it would be better if none of our people were seen by anyone the whole time."
"Exactly."
"But how do we get into the manor then? The wards will record all our presences. Even yours. Especially yours. Merlin, they might not even have taken down the child safety wards tied to you."
"True."
"Then how?"
"You were almost there when you suggested we use the imperius curse on Ginny."
Her eyes darted around his face, looking for a clue. "But, using the imperius curse on anyone who isn't on our side is incredibly dangerous. If anyone ever found out, it's life in Azkaban. And most people who are tied to the Potter wards will have noble house rings, so no obliviating. I know the Weasleys don't, but it's still more risk than I thought you'd be willing to take."
"Yes. So we use the imperius on someone who can never complain, who can pass straight through the wards without issue, who won't be recorded by the wards, and who it's even legal to cast the curse on."
She looked at him, puzzled. "Who?"
Daphne lounged in Harry's trunk, reading a muggle travel book, making notes, and bracing herself for an apparate-squeeze every sixty seconds. The first time she'd climbed into his trunk, been shrunk, popped into his pocket, and chain-apparated across Europe, it had been nauseating. She'd gotten used to it. This time, she could even read while Harry flew and apparated, five miles at a time, all the way across the Atlantic.
It had been seventeen hours, and flight-Harry should be landing soon.
Daphne stood and walked over to the cooler, runes alight with pulsating magic. She found a bottle of pumpkin juice amidst the pile of orange juices.
Daphne braced for the next apparate. It didn't come. The lack of squeeze was like a landing announcement. She waited. The door at the top of the stairs opened. Birdsong of every describable variety poured into the trunk, filling the cosy interior with promises of the exotic and exciting.
"We're there!" called Harry.
Daphne climbed the stairs, stepped out of the trunk, and was engulfed by a wall of heat and wet. The air pressed down on her body, and filled her lungs with soup. A mass of organic dark-green and brown rose in front of her. Behind her, a massive river pushed and roared with the unstoppability and ferocity of a dozen nesting dragons.
"This is Brazil?"
"Yep. On the edge of one of the forests. Wha'dja think?"
"It's… bigger." The trees were massive and interwove into each other forming a solid, living cliff.
"You've no idea just how right you are," Harry said, shrinking the trunk and popping it back into his pocket. He handed her an ageing potion and they both drank. The soon-to-be first-years morphed into twenty-year-olds. Their clothes morphed with them.
Pointing themselves downriver, they trekked along the riverbank for a half-hour, and eventually found themselves at the edge of a small muggle village.
.
.
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