            The DMLE was, as always, in a state of chaos. Aurors hurried to and from assignments. Captives were dragged in for questioning. Memos zipped about like flocks of seagulls swarming a beach picnic. Like Lucius said, it worked to her advantage; no one was watching the Unspeakable loitering by the women’s toilets. Hermione had been watching Proudfoot’s office for the past twenty minutes, staring at his vague shape behind the frosted glass and waiting for him to depart for the cafeteria. She remembered, from a past conversation with Harry, that the aurors usually took their lunch at one o’clock sharp.