The Other Side: A Harry Potter FanFiction

Chapter XLVII

Lana appeared outside the red phone booth in seconds, a huge crowd of muggles walking in front of her. They didn’t seem to notice a teenage girl suddenly popping up out of nowhere, but she didn’t think into it for more than a second before stepping inside the phone booth and shutting the door carefully.

            She tried to remember the process she’d gone through before. She’d been drunk the night she’d gone to the Ministry the first time, and her memory was fuzzy.

            Closing her eyes, she thought back. There was a coin on the floor. Opening her eyes again, she looked down and, unsurprisingly but not without slight disappointment, didn’t see any coins.

            Reaching into her pockets, she felt around for any money she might’ve had, realizing slowly that she’d run away the first day she arrived in London, and the only pair of pants that would’ve had any coins in the pockets were the jeans she’d worn that night.

            Cursing herself for not thinking of it before, she groaned and fell forward, banging her head against the glass.

            Her eyes widened as they focused on the pavement outside the phone booth, where a large, round coin sat alone.

            Looking around, she exited the phone booth and crouched down to pick up the coin. She wasn’t familiar with money other than American, but she figured it looked the same as the one she’d used before, and so she reentered the phone booth and plopped it into the coin slot, taking the phone.

            Then came the next problem; what number was she supposed to call?

            Groaning again, she tried to think. Wizards were clever; they would’ve picked something no muggle would’ve dialed, so it wouldn’t be a normal phone number. It would probably have something to do with the wizarding world, too.

            The idea came to her quickly, seeming so possible that she didn’t waste a moment in dialing the numbers 62442, which spelled out the word M-A-G-I-C.

            To her delight, the woman’s voice came, like the first time, not from the phone, but from the air. “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. State your name and purpose here.”

            “Lana Herondale,” she replied, “I’m looking for information on some wizards.”

            A silver badge popped out, reading LANA HERONDALE: LOOKING UP WIZARD FILES.

            She grinned and put the badge in her pocket as the phone booth lurched downward like a lift, the London street disappearing above her.

            A minute later, she was in the Atrium, seeing hundreds of wizards going about their daily business, stepping out of the fireplaces along the sides of the hallway, rushing along the polished wooden flooring. The ceiling was just how she remembered it; peacock blue with golden symbols gliding across it. Halfway down the hall was the fountain of the golden wizard, witch, centaur, goblin, and house-elf spouting water into a pool below them.

            Looking around with a wide smile, she followed the crowd down the hall to the set of golden gates at the end of the atrium. A security guard sat in a stand beside it, keeping busy by dealing with the many witches or wizards who wanted to get through the gates.

            There was a line leading up to the security stand. Lana stepped up to the end of it and waited patiently as it moved along.

            Soon she was first, and the guard looked at her with a bored expression. A name tag pinned to his shirt read ERIC MUNCH. He put out his hand, saying, “Present your wand.”