Chapter 7 : The Troubling Case of The Ministry of Magic

"I can't sleep."

Rohini blinked, not sure if the voice was a hallucination due to her own insomnia or not. With a grunt, she sat down and saw that Harry was doing the same, eyes fixed on the wall. It had been decided that since the twins both had to get up early the next day, they would share the same bedroom for one more night.

"I'd love to say 'geeze Harry, you woke me up' but I was already awake." Rohini sighed. "Bad dreams?"

"Hmm. You?"

"Nah, I know it will be fine." Rohini lied.

Harry chuckled.

"You're a bad liar, you know that?"

"Fine, I might be a tiny wee bit worried. But hey, I'll be there so there's nothing to worry about, ok?"

"If you say so." Harry sighed.

"Trust me. Anyway, what time is it?" Rohini asked with a yawn, pointing at Harry's watch.

"Half-past five."

"Urg, way too early. Bye." Rohini grunted, hiding her face under her pillow.

"Lazy bones. I'm gonna get dressed, don't look."

"That's the last thing I'd want to do." Rohini huffed.

She was starting to daze off when Harry shook her by the shoulders, telling her to get up and get dressed herself.

"I'm just gonna get breakfast first." Rohini mumbled, passing a tired hand in her already messy hair. "To get enough energy to actually put some clothes on."

"I forbid you to come to the hearing wearing pyjamas." Harry said flatly as the twins walked quietly down the stairs, past the heads of Kreacher's ancestors, and down into the kitchen.

However as they reached the door, Harry stopped Rohini and moved an index to his lips, probably hearing something. It must have been uninteresting though as he pushed the door opened a second later.

Waiting for them inside were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks, the lot of them sitting in front of a half-finished breakfast.

All were fully dressed except Mrs. Weasley, who was wearing a quilted purple dressing gown. She leapt to her feet the moment Harry and Rohini entered.

"Breakfast." she said as she pulled out her wand and hurried over to the fire.

"Hi everyone." Rohini said, having regrets about not getting dressed beforehand.

"M'ning, Rohini." yawned Tonks. Her hair was blonde and curly this morning. "Sleep all right?"

"Yeah." said Harry.

"Worse night of my life." Rohini sighed.

"Same." Tonks said, with another shuddering yawn. "Come and sit down, you two…"

She drew out a chair, knocking over the one beside it in the process and Rohini picked it up before dropping on it without a single ounce of elegance.

"What do you want, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley called. "Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

"Just-just toast, thanks." said Harry.

"And you, Rohini?"

"A bit of everything please, I'm starving." Rohini said. It wasn't quite right, but she didn't want to go to the battlefield with an empty stomach. That, and the smell was truly mouth-watering.

Mrs. Weasley placed a couple of plates in front of the twins, as well as jams and marmalade. Then she sat down on Harry's other side and started fussing with his T-shirt, tucking in the label and smoothing out the creases across his shoulders. She tried to do the same with Rohini, only to realise she was still not properly dressed.

"I'll eat fast." Rohini promised, half her words lost in the muffin she was eating, not paying attention to the conversation between Tonks and Mr. Weasley who was not wearing wizards' robes but a pair of pinstriped trousers and an old bomber jacket.

"How are you feeling?" He asked Harry, looking at him cautiously.

Harry shrugged.

"It'll all be over soon," Mr. Weasley said bracingly. "In a few hours' time you'll be cleared."

"That he will." Rohini said as lightly as possible, giving Harry a little slap on the back, making him cough.

"The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones's office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she's the one who'll be questioning you."

"Amelia Bones is OK, Harry," said Tonks earnestly. "She's fair, she'll hear you out."

"No reason she wouldn't." Rohini added, before taking a sip of hot chocolate.

Harry nodded, still silent.

"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius abruptly. "Be polite and stick to the facts. Same goes to you, Rohini." He added with a heavy look at her.

"No idea what you talking 'bout." Rohini mumbled. "Besides, I'm not the one in troubles, here…"

"The law's on your side," said Lupin quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."

The more the adults kept trying to lighten the mood, the more stressed Rohini felt. They were trying way too hard, and the effect was the opposite of the one wanted.

Mrs. Weasley was now attacking Harry's hair with a wet comb. She pressed hard on the top of his head and Rohini winced in sympathy.

"Doesn't it ever lie flat?" she said desperately.

Harry shook his head.

"Never." Rohini confirmed.

Mr. Weasley checked his watch and looked up at Harry.

"I think we'll go now," he said. "We're a bit early, but I think you'll be better off at the Ministry than hanging around here."

"Wait, I'm not dr- be right back!" Rohini said quickly, grabbing one last piece of toast before running back upstairs. Struggling to button up a white shirt Hermione had kindly lend her, grimacing at how ridiculous she probably looked in a pencil brown skirt –where did Mrs. Weasley even found that?- and realising she only had old sneakers or her school uniform shoes to go along with it, Rohini finally darted back downstairs where everybody was waiting for her.

"Oh, Rohini dear, are you sure nothing can be done about your hair?" Mrs. Weasley asked, already coming over with a comb in her hand.

"I assure you Mrs. Weasley, our hair can't be tamed." Rohini said quickly, swiftly avoiding the ginger woman.

Mr. Weasley unbolted the door and they stepped out into the cold, grey dawn.

"Alright children, let's go!" He said, pushing the twins outside as they heard the door being locked behind them.

'You don't normally walk to work, do you?' Harry asked him, as they set off briskly around the square.

"No, I usually Apparate," said Mr. Weasley, "but obviously you can't, and I think it's best we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion ... makes a better impression, given what you're being disciplined for..."

"I would have chosen better shoes if I'd knew we were gonna walk…" Rohini grumbled moodily.

Mr. Weasley kept his hand inside his jacket as they walked, clenched around his wand. The run-down streets were almost deserted, but when they arrived at the miserable little underground station they found it already lull of early-morning commuters. As ever when he found himself in close proximity to Muggles going about their daily business, Mr. Weasley was hard put to contain his enthusiasm.

"Simply fabulous," he whispered, indicating the automatic ticket machines. "Wonderfully ingenious."

"Will trust you on this." Rohini said, raising at eyebrow at the 'out of order' sign.

Harry bought their tickets instead from a sleepy-looking guard while Mr. Weasley marvelled about it and five minutes later they were boarding an underground train that rattled them off towards the centre of London.

During the ride, Mr. Weasley kept anxiously checking and re-checking the Underground Map above the windows.

"Four stops... three stops left now... two stops to go..."

Meanwhile, Rohini was making faces at a young child who laughed and waved at her until it was time to get off at a station in the very heart of London. They were instantly swept from the train in a tide of besuited men and women carrying briefcases, Rohini almost losing the two men as she got stuck in the crowd.

"Where are we?" said Mr. Weasley blankly, and for one heart-stopping moment the twins feared they had got off at the wrong station despite Mr. Weasley's continual references to the map; but a second later he said, "Ah yes ... this way, you two,' and led them down a side road.

"Sorry," he said, "but I never come by train and it all looks rather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact, I've never even used the visitors' entrance before."

"Even on your first day? Or for the job interview?" Rohini asked, getting a confused look from and an exasperated sigh from her brother.

The further they walked, the smaller and less imposing the buildings became, until finally they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub and an overflowing skip. Rohini raised a dubious eyebrow, wondering if perhaps Mr. Weasley had lost his way.

"Here we are," said Mr. Weasley brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall. "After you, Rohini."

He opened the telephone-box door and Rohini exchanged a wary glance with Harry before stepping inside, her brother right behind her. Then, Mr. Weasley folded himself in beside Harry and closed the door. It was a tight fit; Rohini was jammed against the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off. Mr. Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.

"Mr. Weasley, I think this might be out of order, too." Harry said.

"No, no, I'm sure its fine," said Mr. Weasley, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. "Let's see ... six..." he dialled the number, "two ... four ... and another four ... and another two..."

As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr. Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them. Rohini's fingers clenched nervously around the wand she didn't carry with her.

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

"Er..." said Mr. Weasley, clearly uncertain whether or not he should talk into the receiver. He compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing-"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Rohini saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. She picked it up: it was a square silver badge with Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing on it. She hand it to Harry who pinned it to the front of his T-shirt as the female voice spoke again.

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

"I'm also a Visitor." Rohini spoke quickly. "Rohini Potter, here to act as a witness in my brother's hearing."

The same click and rattle happened as a silver badge baring Rohini's name fell out of the metal chute.

Then, the floor of the telephone box shuddered.

They were sinking slowly into the ground, just like an elevator would. Rohini glanced at Harry and saw him watching apprehensively as the pavement seemed to rise up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads.

They could hear only a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth, the ominous sound tickling at Rohini's nape. After about a minute, a chink of golden light illuminated their feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit them in the face and forced them to blink.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day." said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr. Weasley stepped out of it, followed by the twins and Rohini couldn't hold back a surprised gasp.

They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly noticeboard. The wall's on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard.

Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf's ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of the Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode towards a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

"Neat…" Rohini breathed.

"This way." said Mr. Weasley, pushing her forward.

They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, still others were reading the Daily Prophet while they walked. As they passed the fountain Rohini saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at her from the bottom of the pool. A small smudged sign beside it read:

All proceeds from the fountain of magical brethren will be given to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

"Looks like a wish fountain of some kind." Rohini told Harry before ruffling through her pockets and throwing in two sickles, wishing for Harry to be proved innocent.

"Over here, you two." said Mr. Weasley, and they stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates.

Seated at a desk to the left, beneath a sign saying SECURITY, a badly-shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.

"I'm escorting visitors." said Mr. Weasley, gesturing towards the twins.

"Step over here." said the wizard in a bored voice.

Harry walked closer to him and the wizard held up a long golden rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harry's front and back.

"Wand." grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.

Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it on to a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing on it.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?"

"Yes." said Harry nervously.

"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. "You get this back." He added, thrusting the wand at Harry.

"Thank you."

"Hang on..." said the wizard slowly.

His eyes had darted from the silver visitor's badge on Harry's chest to his forehead.

"Yes, he is Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Hogwarts' Best Seeker." Rohini said annoyingly before stepping in front of her brother. "Shall we?"

The wizard blinked before looking down at Rohini's badge, his mouth popping opened.

"Eric, if you may check the young Rohini…" Mr. Weasley said firmly.

The man coughed before proceeding to do the same with Rohini as he had done with Harry.

"Wand?" He asked, holding up his hand.

"I forgot it home." Rohini admitted.

"A stupid mistake." The wizard grunted, shaking his head.

"Thank you, Eric." said Mr. Weasley firmly, and grasping the twins by the shoulder he steered them away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates.

Jostled slightly by the crowd, Rohini followed Mr. Weasley through the gates into the smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. Nearby, stood a big bearded wizard holding a large cardboard box which was emitting rasping noises and Rohini felt the flame of curiosity lightening up inside her.

"All right, Arthur?" said the wizard, nodding at Mr. Weasley.

"What've you got there, Bob?" asked Mr. Weasley, looking at the box.

"We're not sure," said the wizard seriously. "We thought it was a bog-standard chicken until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me."

"Neat!" Rohini said, trying to step closer but Harry pulled on her sleeve to keep her at bay from the box.

With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille slid back and the three of them stepped into the lift with the rest of the crowd, Rohini founding himself jammed against the back wall.

Several witches and wizards were looking at the twins curiously and Harry stared at his feet to avoid catching anyone's eye, flattening his fringe as he did so while Rohini looked up at the celling, humming.

The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling, while the same cool female voice from telephone box rang out again.

"Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club and Ludicrous Patents Office."

The lift doors opened; Rohini glimpsed an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of Quidditch teams tacked lopsidedly on the walls. One of the wizards in the lift, who was carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himself with difficulty and disappeared down the corridor. The doors closed, the lift juddered upwards again and the woman's voice announced:

"Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Centre."

Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards got out; at the same time, several paper aeroplanes swooped into the lift. Rohini stared up at them as they flapped idly around above her head; they were a pale violet colour and he could see MINISTRY OF MAGIC stamped along the edge of their wings.

"Just inter-departmental memos," Mr. Weasley muttered. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable... droppings all over the desks..."

As they clattered upwards again the memos flapped around the lamp swaying from the lift's ceiling.

"Level Five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."

When the doors opened, two of the memos zoomed out with a few more of the witches and wizards, but several more memos zoomed in, so that the light from the lamp flickered and flashed overhead as they darted around it.

"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."

"'S'cuse." said the wizard carrying the fire-breathing chicken and he left the lift pursued by a little flock of memos. The doors clanged shut yet again.

"Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

Everybody left the lift on this floor except Mr. Weasley, Harry, Rohini and a witch who was reading an extremely long piece of parchment that was trailing on the floor. The remaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as the lift juddered upwards again, then the doors opened and the voice made its announcement.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

"This is us," said Mr. Weasley, and they followed the witch out of the lift into a corridor lined with doors. "My office is on the other side of the floor."

"Mr. Weasley," said Harry, as they passed a window through which sunlight was streaming, "aren't we still underground?"

"Yes, we are," said Mr. Weasley. "Those are enchanted windows. Magical Maintenance decides what weather we'll get every day. We had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a pay rise..."

"Smart move of them." Rohini said with a nod.

They turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy oak doors and emerged in a cluttered open area divided into cubicles, which was buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read AUROR HEADQUARTERS.

Rohini saw that Harry was looking surreptitiously through the doorways as they passed and did the same. The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favourite Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet.

A scarlet-robed man with a ponytail longer than Bill's was sitting with his boots up on his desk, dictating a report to his quill. A little further along, a witch with a patch over one eye was talking over the top of her cubicle wall to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Morning, Weasley," said Kingsley carelessly, as they drew nearer. "I've wanted a word with you, have you got a second?"

"Yes, if it really is a second," said Mr. Weasley, "I'm in rather a hurry."

They were talking as though they hardly knew each other and when Harry opened his mouth to say hello to Kingsley, Rohini elbowed him and gave him a hard look. They followed Kingsley along the row and into the very last cubicle which came as a shock to both twins. Blinking down at them from every direction was Sirius's face.

Newspaper cuttings and old photographs-even the one of Sirius being best man at the Potters' wedding-papered the walls. The only Sirius-free space was a map of the world in which little red pins were glowing like jewels.

"Here," said Kingsley brusquely to Mr. Weasley, shoving a sheaf of parchment into his hand. "I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months. We've received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle."

Kingsley tipped Harry and Rohini an enormous wink and added, in a whisper, "Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting." Then he said in normal tones, "And don't take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held our investigation up for a month."

"If you had read my report you would know that the term is "firearms"," said Mr. Weasley coolly. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles; we're extremely busy at the moment." He dropped his voice and said, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."

He then led the twins out of Kingsley's cubicle, through a second set of oak doors, into another passage, turned left, marched along another corridor, turned right into a dimly lit and distinctly shabby corridor, and finally reached a dead end, where a door on the left stood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on the right bore a tarnished brass plaque reading Misuse of Muggle Artefacts.

"How come you never get lost? It's worse than Hogwarts' stairs." Rohini complained.

Mr. Weasley's dingy office seemed to be slightly smaller than the broom cupboard. Two desks had been crammed inside it and there was barely space to move around them because of all the overflowing filing cabinets lining the walls, on top of which were tottering piles of files.

The little wall space available bore witness to Mr. Weasley's obsessions; there were several posters of cars, including one of a dismantled engine, two illustrations of postboxes he seemed to have cut out of Muggle children's books, and a diagram showing how to wire a plug.

Sitting on top of Mr. Weasley's overflowing in-tray was an old toaster that was hiccoughing in a disconsolate way and a pair of empty leather gloves that were twiddling their thumbs. A photograph of the Weasley family stood beside the in-tray. Rohini felt her chest tightening when she noticed that Percy appeared to have walked out of it.

"We haven't got a window," said Mr. Weasley apologetically, taking off his bomber jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. "We've asked, but they don't seem to think we need one. Have a seat, doesn't look as if Perkins is in yet."

Harry squeezed himself into the chair behind Perkins's desk while Mr. Weasley riffled through the sheaf of parchment Kingsley Shacklebolt had given him. Rohini decided to stay on her feet for the spare chair seemed ready to break at any given opportunity.

'Ah,' he said, grinning, as he extracted a copy of a magazine entitled The Quibbler from its midst, 'yes...' He flicked through it. 'Yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will find that very amusing-oh dear, what's this now?'

A memo had just zoomed in through the open door and fluttered to rest on top of the hiccoughing toaster. Mr. Weasley unfolded it and read aloud, '"Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately." This is getting ridiculous ...'

'A regurgitating toilet?'

'Anti-Muggle pranksters,' said Mr. Weasley, frowning. 'We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing-well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling in those-pumbles, I think they're called-you know, the ones who mend pipes and things.'

'Plumbers?'

'-exactly, yes, but of course they're flummoxed. I only hope we can catch whoever's doing it.'

'Will it be Aurors who catch them?'

'Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it'll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol-ah, Harry, this is Perkins.'

A stooped, timid-looking old wizard with fluffy white hair had just entered the room, panting.

'Oh, Arthur!' he said desperately, without looking at Harry. 'Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for the best, whether to wait here for you or not. I've just sent an owl to your home but you've obviously missed it-an urgent message came ten minutes ago-'

'I know about the regurgitating toilet,' said Mr. Weasley.

'No, no, it's not the toilet, it's the Potter boy's hearing-they've changed the time and venue-it starts at eight o'clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten-'

'Down in old- but they told me-Merlin's beard-'

Mr. Weasley looked at his watch, let out a yelp and leapt from his chair.

'Quick, Harry, we should have been there five minutes ago!'

Perkins flattened himself against the filing cabinets as Mr. Weasley left the office at a run, Harry close on his heels.

'Why have they changed the time?' Harry said breathlessly, as they hurtled past the Auror cubicles; people poked out their heads and stared as they streaked past. Harry felt as though he had left all his insides back at Perkins's desk.

'I've no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early, if you'd missed it, it would have been catastrophic!'

Mr. Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the 'down' button.

'Come ON!'

The lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. Every time it stopped Mr. Weasley cursed furiously and pummelled the number nine button.

'Those courtrooms haven't been used in years,' said Mr. Weasley angrily. 'I can't think why they're doing it down there-unless-but no...'

A plump witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and Mr. Weasley did not elaborate.

'The Atrium,' said the cool female voice and the golden grilles slid open, showing Harry a distant glimpse of the golden statues in the fountain. The plump witch got out and a sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face got in.

'Morning, Arthur,' he said in a sepulchral voice as the lift began to descend. 'Don't often see you down here...'

'Urgent business, Bode,' said Mr. Weasley, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looks over at Harry.

'Ah, yes,' said Bode, surveying Harry unblinkingly. 'Of course.'

Harry barely had emotion to spare for Bode, but his unfaltering gaze did not make him feel any more comfortable.

'Department of Mysteries,' said the cool female voice, and left it at that.

'Quick, Harry,' said Mr. Weasley as the lift doors rattled open, and they sped up a corridor that was quite different from those above. The walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. Harry expected them to go through it, but instead Mr. Weasley seized him by the arm and dragged him to the left, where there was an opening leading to a flight of steps.

'Down here, down here,' panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. 'The lift doesn't even come down this far ... why they're doing it down there...'

They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to the one that led to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

'Courtroom ... ten ... I think ... we're nearly ... yes.'

Mr. Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest.

'Go on,' he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. 'Get in there.'

'Aren't-aren't you coming with-?'

'No, no, I'm not allowed. Good luck!'

Harry's heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam's apple. He swallowed hard, turned the heavy iron door handle and stepped inside the courtroom.