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HP Chapter 135: Department of Mysteries (Part 1)
🕑 Added 2025-10-16 16:40:18 +0000 UTCHarry slid one hand into the nearest Thestral’s mane, gripping it firmly, and planted one foot on a nearby tree stump. Clumsily, he hoisted himself onto its soft, smooth back. It didn’t struggle, but it twisted its head around, showing its sharp teeth and eagerly trying to lick his robes.
Harry discovered that resting his knee just below the wing joint gave him a more secure seat. He glanced around at the others: Neville was hunched over, sprawled across another Thestral, struggling to swing a short leg over its back; Luna was already seated sideways, calmly adjusting her robes as if she did this every day. But Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all standing frozen, mouths open and eyes wide.
“What’s the matter?” Harry called over.
“How do we get up on them?” Ron muttered. “I can’t see them.”
“Oh, that’s simple,” Luna said kindly, sliding off her Thestral and striding over to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. “Come here!” She guided them one by one to the Thestrals waiting nearby, helped them climb on, and told them firmly to hold onto the mane. All three looked as nervous as could be.
“This is incredible,” Ron whispered, stroking the creature’s neck with his free hand. “Incredible, if only I could see it, ”
“You’d rather never see it at all,” Harry cut in gloomily. “All right, everyone ready?” Nods. Harry saw six sets of knees tensing beneath robes.
“Okay,” he murmured, glancing down at the Thestral’s sleek, black head, gulping nervously.
“Then, London. Ministry. Visitor entrance.”
“If you know how to get there?” he added, uncertain.
The Thestral stood motionless for a heartbeat, then suddenly unfurled its wings in a movement so forceful that Harry nearly flew off. It crouched, then shot skyward in an arrow-straight ascent, so fast and steep Harry had to curl forward and grip its narrow rear to stay on. They shot past treetops into the flaming sunset; Harry squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek against the silky mane.
He’d never imagined flying so swiftly. The Thestral’s great wings pounded powerfully; icy wind slapped Harry’s face. Leaning into the blast, he glimpsed the others trailing behind, each ducking low behind their Thestral’s neck to escape the wake.
They skimmed over Hogwarts grounds, passed Hogsmeade village, and Harry watched mountains and valleys fade beneath them. As dusk deepened, they flew over Muggle towns where lights glittered like stars, and a lone car sped over twisting roads.
“Brilliant!” Ron’s shouted voice reached Harry’s ears from somewhere behind, and he imagined how surreal it must feel to careen through the sky on a mount you can’t even see.
The Thestral stood completely still for a moment. Then, suddenly, it spread its wings so abruptly that Harry almost got thrown off. It crouched low for a second, then shot skyward like an arrow, the steep angle and sheer speed forcing Harry to clutch its bony, skeletal body with both arms and legs to avoid sliding off the narrow haunches. They soared over the treetops and into the blazing red sunset. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek against the Thestral’s silky-smooth mane.
He had never imagined flying this fast. The Thestral streaked past the castle towers, its wide wings pumping with powerful strokes. Cold air lashed at Harry’s face; squinting against the wind, he turned his head and glimpsed his five companions flying behind him. They were all hunched low over their mounts’ necks, trying to stay out of his wake.
They flew over the Hogwarts grounds, then past Hogsmeade; Harry could see the mountains and valleys spread out below. Daylight faded quickly as they passed village after village, where scattered pinpricks of golden light appeared, then a lone car racing down a winding mountain road, headlights glowing like beetle eyes. “This is mental!” he barely heard Ron shout from somewhere behind, imagining what it must be like to race through the sky this high up on an invisible beast.
Dusk had fallen: the sky turned a soft, hazy violet, speckled with tiny silver stars. Soon, only the Muggle towns’ lights gave them any sense of how high or how fast they were flying. Harry wrapped his arms tighter around the Thestral’s neck, willing it to go faster. How long had it been since he’d seen Sirius collapse onto the floor of the Department of Mysteries? How much time had passed? Could Sirius still be holding out against Voldemort? Harry was sure, certain, that Sirius hadn’t given in, nor been killed yet. If he had, Harry believed he would have felt Voldemort’s triumph or rage ripple through his own body, just as he had the night Mr. Weasley was attacked.
They were flying through total darkness now. Harry’s face was numb and frozen, his legs gripped so tightly around the Thestral’s sides that they’d gone dead, but he didn’t dare shift position for fear of falling. The only sound was the roaring wind in his ears. His mouth was dry and cracked from the cold night air. He had no sense of how far they’d traveled. All his hopes rested on the creature beneath him, still speeding steadily through the pitch-black sky, rarely flapping its wings.
If we’re too late… He’s still alive. He’s fighting. I can feel it. If Voldemort thinks Sirius won’t break… I should know… A jolt in his stomach, then the Thestral’s head dipped sharply toward the ground, and Harry slid a few inches forward along its neck. They were finally descending. He thought he heard someone scream behind him and looked back in alarm, no one was falling. Probably just surprised by the sudden drop like he was.
The bright orange streetlights grew larger and rounder beneath them; they could see rooftops and headlights of passing cars like glinting beetle eyes. The square windows glowed dimly yellow. They were suddenly plummeting toward the pavement. Harry gripped the Thestral tighter, bracing for impact. But the creature landed like a shadow, light and soundless, on the dark pavement.
Harry slid off its back and glanced around. The overflowing dumpster still sat near the battered phone booth, barely visible under the dull orange streetlamps.
Ron landed nearby and promptly toppled headfirst off his Thestral onto the sidewalk.
“Never again,” he groaned, struggling to stand. He staggered away, clearly trying to put distance between himself and the invisible beast, only to crash into its hind legs and nearly fall again.
“Absolutely never again, that was awful, "
Hermione and Ginny landed more gracefully on either side of him, sliding down with at least some dignity, though their relieved expressions at being back on solid ground were the same. Neville scrambled off his mount, shivering slightly. Luna dismounted gracefully.
“Now where do we go?” Luna asked politely, with genuine curiosity, as if this were all part of a delightful day trip.
“This way,” Harry said, giving the Thestral a grateful pat before hurrying toward the battered phone booth. “Come on!” he urged the others as they hesitated.
Ron and Ginny obediently stepped inside; Hermione, Neville, and Luna squeezed in behind. Harry took a final look at the Thestrals, now rummaging in the dumpster for scraps, before squeezing in behind Luna.
“Whoever’s closest to the phone, dial 62442!” he barked.
Ron awkwardly twisted his arm toward the dial and turned the numbers. As the dial spun back, a cold, female voice echoed inside the booth.
“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”
“Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger,” Harry said quickly, “Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood. We're here to save someone, unless your Ministry plans to do it first.”
“Thank you,” said the voice coolly. “Visitors, please take and wear your badges.”
Six badges clinked down into the coin return. Hermione picked them up silently and passed them to Harry over Ginny’s head. Harry looked at the top one:
Harry Potter, Rescue Mission
“Ministry guests, you are required to submit to a security check and register your wands at the security desk located at the far end of the Atrium.”
“Got it!” Harry snapped, just as his scar gave another sharp twinge. “Can we move now?”
The floor of the phone booth lurched. The pavement outside rose past the windows, and the foraging Thestrals slid out of view. Darkness closed in above them. Accompanied by a dry, grinding sound, the lift descended deep into the Ministry.
A narrow beam of golden light slowly widened at their feet, then stretched across their bodies. In the cramped space, Harry gripped his wand tightly and crouched, trying to peer through the glass. Was someone waiting in the Atrium? But it appeared deserted. The lighting was dimmer than during the day. The fireplaces lining the walls were unlit, but the golden symbol on the high blue ceiling still writhed erratically.
“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” said the woman’s voice.
The phone booth doors burst open, and Harry stumbled out, followed closely by Neville and Luna. The only sound in the Atrium was the splash of the fountain: water pouring from the wizards’ wands, the centaur’s arrowhead, the goblin’s hat, and the house-elf’s ears into the circular pool.
“This way,” Harry whispered. The six of them sprinted across the floor, Harry leading past the fountain toward the security desk, once manned by a wand-weighing wizard, now eerily abandoned.
There should be guards here, Harry thought. The absence of anyone at the entrance was a bad sign. His unease deepened as they passed through the golden gates to the lifts. He jabbed the down button. Almost immediately, a lift clanged open. The golden grill screeched to the sides. They piled in. Harry hit the button for Level Nine. The gate slammed shut.
The lift clattered noisily. Harry hadn’t noticed the sound before, but now it seemed loud enough to alert every guard in the building. When the lift stopped, the same cold female voice announced:
“Department of Mysteries.”
They stepped into the corridor. It was silent, except for the soft flickering of the nearest torches stirred by the lift’s passing.
Harry turned toward the plain black door. He had seen it so often in dreams, and now, at last, he was here.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly, leading the way. Luna followed behind him, her mouth slightly open as she looked around in awe.
“All right, listen up,” Harry said, stopping six feet from the door. “Maybe some of us should stay behind, to keep watch, or, "
“How are we supposed to tell you if something happens?” Ginny asked, raising her eyebrows. “You might be far away.”
“We’re all going with you, Harry,” said Neville firmly.
“Let’s keep moving,” Ron agreed.
Harry still didn’t like bringing them all along, but he had no choice. He stepped up to the door. As in his dreams, it opened before him. He crossed the threshold, the others following close behind.
They entered a vast circular room. Everything, floor, ceiling, walls, was jet black. Twelve unmarked black doors, spaced evenly, were set into the walls. Blue-flamed candles flickered dimly in wall sconces, casting cold reflections on the polished marble floor, making it look like a pool of black water.
“Someone close the door,” Harry murmured.
Neville obeyed. Harry instantly regretted it. Without the light from the hallway, they were plunged into near-total darkness. Only the wavering blue flames and their ghostly reflections remained.
In his dreams, Harry had always crossed the room without hesitation and gone through the door directly opposite. But now, there were twelve identical doors. As he stared at them, trying to remember which was right, a deep rumble sounded. The candles shifted. The walls began to spin.
Hermione clutched Harry’s arm, worried the floor might be moving too, but it stayed still. The walls spun faster, blurring the blue flames into streaks of light. Then, just as suddenly, the spinning stopped.
Blue light shimmered in Harry’s eyes. Everything else was gone.
“What was that?” Ron whispered.
“A trick,” Ginny muttered. “So we can’t tell which door we came through.”
She was right. Now, telling the exit apart was harder than spotting a black ant on black marble. Any of the twelve doors could lead where they needed to go.
“How do we get out?” Neville asked nervously.
“That’s not the point,” Harry said, blinking to clear the blue lines from his vision and gripping his wand tighter. “We don’t need to get out, we need to find Sirius, "
“Don’t shout his name!” Hermione whispered urgently. But Harry already knew better than to make noise.
“Which way, Harry?” Ron asked.
“I don’t, ” Harry paused. “In the dream, I got off the lift, went through the door at the end of the hallway, that was this room, then another door, into a kind of glowing room. If I see it, I’ll recognize it. Let’s try some doors.”
He headed for the door directly opposite. The others followed. Harry placed his left hand on the cold, smooth surface, raised his wand, and pushed.
The door opened easily.
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Shay Lewis
Rip Anne-less flashback
