Flight of theImagination
Chapter One
And although teleportation wasn't out of the question, it was simply the fact that she had sunk into the ground, on the panel she stood in the phone booth.
Slowly, she gasped for breath, and the moonlight slowly dimmed and it was pitch dark in the long tunnel she traveled.
It made her want to puke, but she was too tired to try opening her mouth and crouching down.
Her hand covered her mouth and the other was at the elevator wall, helping her to restrain from falling to the ground. If you never knew her, or what she was doing, you would've thought she was involved in some kind of gang fight, even if there were no bruises, cuts or anything that served as a sign that she had attended a brawl.
Of course, her black trench coat said something else. It was more that a simple coat, for inscribed on her sleeves were ancient Chinese symbols with tiny English letterings and on the back was a misty, blue outline of a swallow.
The elevator moved swifter and started picking up the pace, she groaned and covered her mouth with her hand as if she was really going to vomit. It finally slowed down and she was relieved to see the rusty, metal doors slide open for her.
Staggering out, she started into the light. Her black, leather high-heel boots made clanking sounds as she moved.
Standing in the hallway of the Ministry of Magic, she looked around at the place.
It had been night outside, but it seemed as bright as daylight here. She walked down the long hallway. The ceiling was painted in a calm, blue color with golden letterings and the elegant carpet swept under her feet as she walked. Wizards walked in and out from the fireplaces set in the walls and the sound of whooshing flying papers were heard everywhere.
She had removed her hand from her face and stuck them in her pocket, clenching them into a fist.
An old witch walked past her swiftly, looking at her curiously as if she had never seen someone like her before, which was quite true. The girl doubted anyone knew her right here, except Dumbledore, of course.
She made her way down the elegant but busy hall and reached a beautiful fountain filled with the currency of donators for a certain "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries".
She walked past the water fountain carelessly, aware that people were staring at her, particularly at her jacket and boots, not to mention the peculiar jingling sound she made when she walked.
She was used to it in London; it wasn't very surprising. The getup she was in right now would be considered 'Normal' in her country, but obviously not in London, not that she really cared of what others thought of her.
Making her way to the end passage, she turned to her left to a wooden desk, greeting an old, weary-looking wizard wearing violet robes.
He looked at her in surprise, adjusting the glasses on his face.
"H-hello…" He greeted, unable to restrain a yawn. "What are you in here for?"
"I am here at Albus Dumbledore's request." She said firmly.
It was strange how she looked no younger than an eighteen-year-old, and yet she talked as if she was an adult, a premature adult.
Taken aback from her request and voice, he sat up straighter to look at her, frowning.
"What are you doing here again? You cannot possibly…where is your badge?" He demanded.
"Oh," She slowly took it out from her chest pocket of her coat and handed it to him.
"You…you're supposed to wear this." He told her. "Underage Witches and Wizards aren't allowed in the wing Dumbledore is in!"
"What? Underage? What are you talking about?" She exclaimed, sighing in desperation.
"Aren't you underage?" He said, raising his eyebrows, frowning again.
"No," The girl said hastily. She made a move and scratched her head in impatience.
"Hey! You aren't allowed to carry any weapons in her without a qualification! What's your name?" He asked again, flipping through a huge book of names.
The girl sighed again, her hand still at her head. "My name is Bree." She replied.
A wizard walked past them onto the corridor and looked at her in curiosity, especially the sword that dangled at her waist.
"You'll have to turn that in to the Security desk, and get a sticker for it on the fourth floor." The violet-cloaked wizard told her.
"What the hell? Sheesh, if I knew this would happen, I wouldn't have come here to meet Dumbledore…" She said aloud in irritation. Her voice sounded like an adult, but seemed careless like a juvenile teen's.
"Well, I'm sorry, Ms. Bree, my apologies. But you'll have to go to the Security desk right away. Go on, off you go now…" He urged curtly.
She sighed and started turning when a familiar shout filled her ears from the hall.
"Now, I really don't think that is necessary for us, is it?"
Dumbledore stood before them, a twinkle in his eyes as he spoken, smiling cheerily.
"Dumbledore!" The wizard greeted. "What are you doing outside? Aren't you supposed to be at the meeting? The court shall be outraged at your lateness!"
"Yes, they would be…but I will explain to them about the matter later. For now, however," Dumbledore placed his hand on Bree's shoulder. "She shall be a qualified member of the Ministry. I give permission for her to carry the sword. It is top ministry business. If you do not believe me, ask Cornelius." Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eye returning. "Now, off we go…" He said to Blayde, ushering her to the hall. "Have a good day." He said to the wizard.
"Yes," He replied, staring behind them. "You too."
