Liar. Harry Potter's sister ~ Book 2

chapter thirty-seven

Flying to London on the Thestrals was a... let's say terrifying experience. I was barely comfortable on a broom, let alone one of these things. My hand was wrapped around the silky mane, and my knees were placed in a secure position behind the wing joints to give me as much support as possible. As twilight fell, the sky turned into a dusky purple colour, littered with specs of silvery stars. The only thing that put me at slight ease, was seeing the flickers of light down below from the Muggle towns, giving us a rough idea how far from the ground we were and how fast we were travelling. As we flew through the gathering darkness, my face felt stiff and cold, my legs were numb from gripping the sides of the creature so tightly. I was deaf from the thundering rush of wind in my ears and my throat was dry and frozen.

After what felt like years, I could see orange flaring lights growing larger and rounder, along with the tops of buildings and pale yellow squares that were windows as the Thestral shifted its direction. I slid a few inches further down it's neck, as we descended and quite suddenly, it seemed, we were hurtling towards the pavement. I prepare myself for a sudden impact, shutting my eyes tightly together, but the horse touched the ground as lightly as a shadow would have done. I slide off it's back, opening up my eyes and seeing the others land along the length of the pavement I was standing on.

"Never again," Ron said, struggling to his feet, looking pale and sick, "Never, ever again... that was the worst." Hermione and Ginny slid off the backs of their Thestrals, with similar expressions of relief at being back firmly on the ground. Neville jumped down from his, shakily and Luna dismounted smoothly, looking the happiest out of us all.

"Where do we go from here then?" she asks me in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather fun day-trip. I look around the area in which we had landed and spotted a vandalised, red telephone box.

"Over here!" I say, giving my Thestral a small, appreciative pat and sprinting over to the peeling telephone box, the others following close behind me. I hold open the door and they hesitate. "Come on!" I urge. Ron and Ginny marched in obediently; Hermione, Neville and Luna squashed themselves in behind them, followed by Harry who gave me a slightly worried look. I took one last glance back at the thestrals, who were now scurrying around for food scraps in a rather large dumpster and then forced myself into the crammed space behind Harry.

"Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!" Harry says. Ron did it, his arms bending bizarrely to reach the dial. A it whirred back into its place, the cool female voice spoke.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Olivia Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger," Harry began reciting very quickly, "Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood... we're here to save someone unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you," says the female voice, cooly, "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Seven badges slid out of the metal chute in which returned coins would normally appear. Hermione collects them into her hands and handed them to me, mutely over Ginny's head. Without a second thought, I shove the badges into my robe pocket, messily. We don't have time to play around and put badges on. We need to get in there now.

My scar gave an uncomfortable throb as the telephone box shuddered and the pavement began to rise up past the glass windows as we sunk down into the Ministry of Magic. A ray of golden light hits our feet, rising up our bodies as we moved down. I pull my wand out and bend my knees as much as I could in the cramped conditions, ready to prepare of anybody was waiting for us in the Atrium, but it was completely empty. There was no emerald flames burning in the fireplaces, no workers busying around , heading to meetings or to their offices. It was dead silent, apart from the steady rush of water from the golden water fountain, which would have been drowned out by the chatting on a normal day.