FLIPPED - harry potter

༺ 59 - the department of mysteries.

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| THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES |
"CRUCIO, CRUCIO, CRUCIO!"

PLEASE comment a lot this chapter as it's very eventful and took a lot of time to get right ha ha :)

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"WELCOME TO THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME AND BUSINESS."

"Harry Potter, Alora Black, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger," Harry spoke fleetingly into the small box, "Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Aria West. . .we're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

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

Half a dozen badges slipped from a metal chute where returned coins would usually flee from. Hermione swiftly scooped them up and began to hand them across the group, she tossed one over to Alora; she peered down at the badge that read: Alora Black, Rescue Mission.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" Harry groaned whilst his scar began to soar pain once again. "Now can we move?"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered as the pavement rose up past its glass windows; the Thestrals which had come to a halt slid from site as they sank down further into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

There was a thud. Alora came to the conclusion that they'd reached the ground floor — Alora gazed across the place through the glass; it was utterly deserted. Alora did not know whether it had been this dimmed during Harry's vivid dreams, but, something seemed off, as though Alora knew it was brighter than this, more welcoming in a way.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," the woman finished.

The door of the telephone box burst open — they'd all crammed into it to create space; Harry toppled out of it — then it was Neville and Luna. The only sound in the Atrium was the steady flow of water from the golden fountain ahead, where jets from the tips of a wand from a witch and wizard, the point of a centaur's arrow, the top of a goblin's hat and the house-elf's ears continued to fall into the pool below.

"Come on," mumbled Harry, soon the eight of them sprinted through the Hall with both Harry and Alora in the lead — Alora incessantly checked for some sort of protection, some sense of security that was guarding it. Though, there seemed to be nothing of the sort.

They ran through the golden gates and to the lifts. Harry pressed the nearest 'down' button rather aggressively before it gave a harsh clatter and at once a lift came into sight — they hurtled into the lift, Alora smashed her hand against the number nine button; the grilles shut as they began to descend towards the objective.

The lift came to a halt. Alora felt an anticipated rush of adrenaline inject into her veins; projecting the insisting image of saving Sirius and giving her the rush to sprint until her legs could not take it anymore. Not until she reached him.

"The Department of Mysteries," a voice approached as the doors slid open once more.

Harry faced the plain black door — after months of continuous daydreaming. . .the feeling of the handle against him. . .the warnings and terrors. . .he was finally here.