WHO: Hestia Jones & Barnaby Snell. Or Mary Frances Perks and Angelus Rosier. WHAT: A con job. WHEN: This morning, 8 January. WHERE: The WWN.
Barnaby Snell squinted at the handheld mirror, his expression twisted into one of displeasure. His beard was gone, replaced by faint peach fuzz. There were no dark curls in sight, only a shaggy blond head of hair. In short, he was gazing at the features of one Angelus Rosier. A heartbeat later, his horror quickly gave way to delight. The polyjuice potion — the foulest substance Baz had ever had the misfortune of drinking — was a success. Step one of their mission was complete.
Snapping the mirror shut, he glanced over at the woman who looked like Mary Frances Perks, WWN producer, and grinned. “Hestia, my love. I hate to break it to you, but we’ve both downgraded our looks.”
“I don’t know,” Hestia replied, fingers traveling over a face that didn’t belong to her, “these cheekbones could cut diamonds.” Her eyes, now blue, glanced over at Baz and she made a face that Mary Frances Perks would probably never deign to make. “You on the other hand… are gross, and I’m so sorry.”
She placed a well manicured hand on Rosier’s — no, Baz’s shoulder in faux sympathy before rearranging her expression into a slightly more stern one. “Do I look Mary Frances Perks-esque now?” she asked, straightening her spine, trying to emulate the producer’s posture.
“Is this a bad time to mention that I’ve always had a thing for older women?” Baz replied, his voice and expression somber — until he punctuated his words with a wink.
Hestia snorted, a grin now replacing her previously rigid expression. “We should polyjuice it up more often. Get really weird.” It was her turn to wink before rearranging her face once more to look hard-nosed. “Okay, we should get going before this crap wears off, Baz. I mean — Rosier. Angelus? What does she call him?”
“Angelus,” Baz replied, shifting in place as he tried to imitate Rosier’s posture and gait. It was possible he was overthinking it, but he still wanted to be as Rosier-esque as possible just in case they were stopped by anyone. “And yeah, I guess we’ve only got an hour, so…”
Affixing his smarmiest grin to his face (it was not hard to look smarmy with Angelus Rosier’s face), he offered Hestia his arm. “Shall we, Ms. Perks?”
* * * * *
Angelus Rosier and Mary Frances Perks materialized in the lobby of the WWN with a faint pop! The rich brown floor shined like polished glass, cream silk sofas lined the room, and the lights were softened to make the interior warm and inviting. The two cut across the floor in quick, purposeful strides, and Baz flashed a bland smile to the security guard behind the front desk. They were greeted with, “Good morning, Ms. Perks.” Then, with a nod, “Mr. Rosier.”
Once they were safely enclosed in an elevator, Baz turned to Hestia and said, “Okay, so. Rosier’s supposed to be picking up the money from one of the admin assistants at 12:30. It’s…” He glanced down at his watch. “11:25 right now. I don’t think there should be any problems?”
“Shouldn’t be,” Hestia repeated, though she hadn’t really been paying much attention to Baz. Instead, she was focused on casing the joint, so to speak, and only once they were in the elevator did she take the vigilance down a notch. She fussed with the collar of her blouse for a moment before turning to her companion.
“And if there are problems? What’s our contingency plan?”
“Maybe we should have a code word in case things go tits up,” Baz suggested, his expression pensive as the elevator swiftly swept them up to the thirteenth and a third floor. “What about… fwooper?”
Hestia couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, but ‘fwooper’ is the most ridiculous word in any language. Which is why it’ll make a great code word,” she continued, giving Baz her biggest grin, which looked slightly out of place on Mary Frances Perks’ face.
She was about to crack another joke when the elevator dinged, causing her to put on her serious face again as the doors slid open. “Are you ready?”
“I was born ready,” Baz replied, shooting Mary Frances his smarmiest finger gun and smile before his expression settled into something more neutral. The thirteenth and a third floor was home to the Wizarding Wireless Network’s administrative wing, and there were several admin assistants and secretaries bustling about the floor.
He motioned for Hestia to follow him to the right, leading her to a desk manned by a bored looking witch with bright purple hair. “Angelus,” she said flatly, “you’re here early.” It took a moment for Mary Frances Perks’ presence to register with her, but when it did, she quickly shifted into a more professional demeanor. “Ms. Perks! Was your meeting cancelled?”
‘Mary Frances’ struggled to look stern (but not too stern) as her eyes widened when faced with even this simplistic question. “No, nothing like that,” Hestia managed, eyes briefly shifting over to Baz-Angelus. “Merely postponed.” She offered no further explanation, knowing that keeping it simple was for the best. This time when she looked at Baz, she did so directly, giving him a pointed but encouraging look, as if prompting Angelus to continue on.
“The Pitch raised a significant amount of money for the Society for the Preservation of Magical Heritage,” Baz drawled, leaning forward on the admin assistant’s desk. “I thought it would be good if a producer tagged along as well. I tried to twist Barnaby’s arm as well, but—” He clutched a hand to his chest and heaved a dramatic sigh. “He just doesn’t understand the importance of the work they’re doing.”
He flashed the purple-haired witch — Matilda — a ‘charming’ smile. After an awkward pause, she returned his smile with a polite one of her own. Matilda reached for a drawer in the bottom of her desk as she continued, “Right, let’s see… I wasn’t expecting you for another hour but—”
A voice from further down the hall cut her off. “Hey, sis!”
Baz-as-Angelus visibly paled as Josh Perks jogged up to them, smiling widely at Hestia. “I thought you had a meeting?”
Of course. It’s not like things could just go well. After turning to Baz and opening her mouth in a silent scream, Hestia regained her composure and smiled at… her brother? She didn’t even know Mary Frances had a brother.
“Hey… you,” she said, trying not to faint on the spot. “I do. I do have a meeting. It’s been postponed, though. And then I ran into Angelus. What are you doing here?”
“I brought Henry lunch,” was Josh’s only explanation before his attention shifted to Barnaby, his smile fading into something a little more polite and forced. “Angelus, hey, long time.”
“Perks,” Angelus replied with a nod, his voice a little crispier than intended. This was someone he didn’t want to see under normal circumstances — he certainly didn’t want to have an extended conversation with him while polyjuiced as Rosier. “Good to see you.”
An awkward pause filled the air before Josh took the cue. “Right, well. I’ll see you later, sis.”
Baz exhaled a sigh of relief as he watched Josh Perks’ walk away, but his relieved thoughts were interrupted by the administrative assistant’s irritated voice. “So you guys managed to raise around twelve thousand galleons for your weirdo purist group.” She produced a lengthy piece of parchment and quill and slid it across the desk. “I just need you two to sign this.”
Hestia almost snorted at the admin’s remark. It definitely was a weirdo purist group. She was glad Baz had provided her with a document complete with Perks’ signature, and she’d been practicing it for the better part of a week. She glanced over at Baz before stepping forward, deciding that she needed to show a little bit of Mary Frances’ leadership.
She picked up the quill and signed Mary Frances Perks in the woman’s straight to the point, no flourish hand, and kept herself from squinting at the forgery to see if it actually looked like the real deal. They just needed to get through the next few minutes. She stepped back, glancing at her watch. “We don’t have all day,” she reminded Bazangelus.
“Relax,” Baz replied, dragging out the vowels as he flashed Matilda a smile and shrug that plainly read bosses, what are you going to do, am I right? Still, he hastily picked up the quill and signed Angelus’ full name with a dramatic flourish. The signature was impeccably close to the genuine article — he’d seen enough of Angelus’ handwriting over the years to do a pretty accurate imitation.
Sliding the form back across the desk, he quickly glanced at Hestia before his attention settled back on the admin. “Is that all you need from us?”
“Yep,” she chirped. Again, she reached for her bottom drawer, though this time she retrieved a plain, nondescript black coin purse. She held it out to Mary Frances with a tight smile. “Twelve thousand galleons for purebloods who don’t need it.”
Hestia’s smile in return was very much genuine. Okay, she really liked this girl. Maybe she’d have Baz get her number... Quickly, she cleared her throat and pushed those thoughts to the side before taking the coin purse. “I’m sure it’ll fall into the hands of the needy,” she replied, giving the admin a wink. She couldn’t help it. Before she could do any other weird things, she turned on her heel and started for the lift. “Coming, Angelus?”
“Thank you for your help, Matilda,” he told the admin, smiling widely. The smile she gave him in return was thin and brittle.
He rushed to catch up with Hestia, trying and failing to keep a neutral expression — but there was no keeping the grin off his face. They had done it. Twelve thousand galleons to help the wandless. All of Chelsea and Nora’s skepticism had been for naught. Baz waited until they were safely ensconced in the elevator to say, “I can’t believe this worked.”