Oh those wooden shoes...
Date: 11, March 2002 (Backdated)
Day: Monday
Time: Early morning
Location: The Daily Prophet
Character(s) Involved: George Weasley, Christian Bartel
Complete or incomplete: Complete
The prospect of sabotaging something as big as The Daily Prophet was a challenge not to be passed up. Never in the twins' wildest dreams had they thought that they'd get an opportunity, like this!
And the sad part was that neither Fred, nor George would be around to witness the chaos... Although, that part had been planned.
In a combination of polyjuiced personas and more mundane costumes, Fred and George had spent the weeks since Fred's conversation with Harry staking out The Prophet's headquarters, monitoring everyone's comings and goings and devising their best course of action. In the guise of a pair of American journalists, they managed to get a tour of the facility, as well.
And now the moment was upon them! Well... Upon George... err... Christian... err... Cyrus Tiggle, a lowly junior editor, who was bent on making his name, as senior editor, some day.
The poor, misguided soul would go into work long before the sun rose, in the morning and not leave until well after sunset. He was, in short, perfect.
George seized his opportunity that morning. Disguised as a bag woman, he "accidentally" bumped into Cyrus, using the distraction to cover up a well-placed memory charm. While George shuffled off into an alleyway, Cyrus suddenly forgot why it was he was going into the office this early and wandered off to find the nearest pub.
Of course, Cyrus never got to the pub. George intercepted him, one block later. After a quick stunner, George dragged Cyrus off, into an alley, stripped him of his clothes and then, using a few of Cyrus's remaining hairs, drank a draught of polyjuice potion.
"Cyrus", having come to his senses, about going to the pub, marched into work. Being that he was there long before anyone else, Cyrus/George went about his business, placing small boxes of dungbombs in and around the press areas, offices and common areas. Additional boxes of dungbombs were secreted in closets, cupboards, wardrobes, etc. The bombs were hidden in plain view, amongst rolls of parchment, and so on; charmed to go off, at various time-delayed intervals, beginning at noon, when George would be safely sitting in the Leaky cauldron, conversing with Harry...
Well, George wouldn't be there... Christian Bartel would be. "George", at this moment was catching a good night's sleep, in preparation for another meeting, in New York.
In addition to the dungbombs, "Cyrus" replaced all of the ink, in the presses with vanishing ink, that would only appear under certain kinds of light and then, only as a very annoying shade of pink.
Finally, smoke pellets and caps, from George's secret stash of items only made available to certain order members were also scattered liberally about. Some were charmed to go off here and there... Others would just give employees of the Prophet a nasty little surprise, should one be crushed under foot.
Within an hour, all was prepared. Cyrus/George quickly left the building again and returned to the alley, where he'd hidden the real Cyrus Tiggle. Deftly, George exchanged clothes, just in time for the polyjuice potion to wear off.
Donning another disguise, George leaned over the unconscious man and gently shook him awake. "Oy mate," he said, in a fairly decent Australian accent, "you okay? Had one too many last night?"
"What? Huh?" Cyrus mumbled, stirring.
"You'd best get yerself home," George advised. "You don't look so good."
Cyrus mumbled again and fumbled for his pocket watch. "Bloody hell! Is that the time?!?!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. "I'm late for work! Excuse me!"
With that, Cyrus hurried back towards Daily Prophet Headquarters. "Good luck, mate!" George called, grinning.
Feeling quite pleased with himself, he apparated out of the alley and back to his flat, to get ready for his... err... Christian's meeting with Harry.
Strangely enough, the presses for The Prophet's Sports Edition managed to be forgotten, in George's plans and the Tuesday edition was rushed out, without any problems...
Of course, by the time the Sports Edition was released, the building had been practically vacated, due to the overwhelming smell of dung, disappearing headlines and smoke.
The Prophet was effectively crippled for two days. It was well into Wednesday night, before reparations could be completed.
Day: Monday
Time: Early morning
Location: The Daily Prophet
Character(s) Involved: George Weasley, Christian Bartel
Complete or incomplete: Complete
The prospect of sabotaging something as big as The Daily Prophet was a challenge not to be passed up. Never in the twins' wildest dreams had they thought that they'd get an opportunity, like this!
And the sad part was that neither Fred, nor George would be around to witness the chaos... Although, that part had been planned.
In a combination of polyjuiced personas and more mundane costumes, Fred and George had spent the weeks since Fred's conversation with Harry staking out The Prophet's headquarters, monitoring everyone's comings and goings and devising their best course of action. In the guise of a pair of American journalists, they managed to get a tour of the facility, as well.
And now the moment was upon them! Well... Upon George... err... Christian... err... Cyrus Tiggle, a lowly junior editor, who was bent on making his name, as senior editor, some day.
The poor, misguided soul would go into work long before the sun rose, in the morning and not leave until well after sunset. He was, in short, perfect.
George seized his opportunity that morning. Disguised as a bag woman, he "accidentally" bumped into Cyrus, using the distraction to cover up a well-placed memory charm. While George shuffled off into an alleyway, Cyrus suddenly forgot why it was he was going into the office this early and wandered off to find the nearest pub.
Of course, Cyrus never got to the pub. George intercepted him, one block later. After a quick stunner, George dragged Cyrus off, into an alley, stripped him of his clothes and then, using a few of Cyrus's remaining hairs, drank a draught of polyjuice potion.
"Cyrus", having come to his senses, about going to the pub, marched into work. Being that he was there long before anyone else, Cyrus/George went about his business, placing small boxes of dungbombs in and around the press areas, offices and common areas. Additional boxes of dungbombs were secreted in closets, cupboards, wardrobes, etc. The bombs were hidden in plain view, amongst rolls of parchment, and so on; charmed to go off, at various time-delayed intervals, beginning at noon, when George would be safely sitting in the Leaky cauldron, conversing with Harry...
Well, George wouldn't be there... Christian Bartel would be. "George", at this moment was catching a good night's sleep, in preparation for another meeting, in New York.
In addition to the dungbombs, "Cyrus" replaced all of the ink, in the presses with vanishing ink, that would only appear under certain kinds of light and then, only as a very annoying shade of pink.
Finally, smoke pellets and caps, from George's secret stash of items only made available to certain order members were also scattered liberally about. Some were charmed to go off here and there... Others would just give employees of the Prophet a nasty little surprise, should one be crushed under foot.
Within an hour, all was prepared. Cyrus/George quickly left the building again and returned to the alley, where he'd hidden the real Cyrus Tiggle. Deftly, George exchanged clothes, just in time for the polyjuice potion to wear off.
Donning another disguise, George leaned over the unconscious man and gently shook him awake. "Oy mate," he said, in a fairly decent Australian accent, "you okay? Had one too many last night?"
"What? Huh?" Cyrus mumbled, stirring.
"You'd best get yerself home," George advised. "You don't look so good."
Cyrus mumbled again and fumbled for his pocket watch. "Bloody hell! Is that the time?!?!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. "I'm late for work! Excuse me!"
With that, Cyrus hurried back towards Daily Prophet Headquarters. "Good luck, mate!" George called, grinning.
Feeling quite pleased with himself, he apparated out of the alley and back to his flat, to get ready for his... err... Christian's meeting with Harry.
Strangely enough, the presses for The Prophet's Sports Edition managed to be forgotten, in George's plans and the Tuesday edition was rushed out, without any problems...
Of course, by the time the Sports Edition was released, the building had been practically vacated, due to the overwhelming smell of dung, disappearing headlines and smoke.
The Prophet was effectively crippled for two days. It was well into Wednesday night, before reparations could be completed.