Chapter Nine: Unlikely Heroes

You know, for someone who rides a broomstick nearly every day, you'd think that a ride on a magical invisible beast would be no problem for me, right?

Wrong.

I watched my big brother, Ron, almost literally kiss the paved streets of London, having toppled off the invisible thestrals we had flown over most of England with. Just before nearly slamming into what seemed an invisible wall (I wish he would sometimes, but it was only another thestral), I had to keep from laughing aloud.

Oddly enough, I was reminded of one of the Yankee Muggle comic books that our father brought home long ago. It was about a group of Super-Muggle heroes that sported around the world in brightly dressed knickers. One of them, a tall black haired woman, flew through the air in a similarly invisible car-type vehicle, aiding in the pursuit of an equally brightly dressed villain, and saving the world from would-be peril. I wondered how on earth she did not bash her head, or other limbs for that matter, climbing in and out of the damned thing all the time.

My eldest brother, Bill, had told me that someone would have to have put a spell on it in order to make it invisible and fly. Much like our very own old flying Ford Anglia that Ron and Harry had so kindly let loose in the Dark Forest in my first year, that was the only way she could have camouflaged herself enough to sneak up on the villain and help save the day.

Unfortunately, we couldn't have looked farther from a team of heroes.

More than half of us looked like we had gone through the grinder already today, bruised and battered from Slytherins, centaurs, and even giants, trudging all this way to save Sirius Black ourselves. At least, Harry thought we were saving him, when really, we had no idea if Sirius was even here at the Ministry of Magic or not.

In addition to Ron, Neville (who, despite his usual nervousness, could see the thestrals like Harry and Luna), and admittedly me, Hermione also looked breathless from the flight. Hermione loathed flying of any kind -- Hippogriffs in particular. Moreover, you certainly wouldn't have caught her on a broomstick. She looked green, and once I gained my own bearings, I walked over to her to make sure she wasn't about to get ill on the sidewalk.

Harry and Luna seemed to be the only ones unfazed by the flight at all. Luna hopped right off the thestral and asked Harry what our next step was. Wearing a look that was more than slightly annoyed, no doubt by what seemed like the snail-pace of the rest of us, Harry led us to a rather distressed looking telephone box.

Ron and I rushed in first as Harry opened the door, followed by Hermione, Neville, and Luna before Harry finally squeezed in himself and crammed the door shut. Ron somehow was able to reach behind me and pick up the receiver. I hoped that it was only Neville's wand poking me in the behind.

We stated our business, and were given our visitor badges, which Hermione was able to pass out, before we sank down into the depths of the Ministry below ground. Harry opened the door and we tumbled out like toothpicks from a dispenser.

Still in the lead, I could see Harry was more agitated than ever, gripping his wand tighter when he noticed that the usual security guard that manned the atrium was gone. We picked up our pace to a dash by the time we got through the atrium to the main lifts. Harry punched the nine buttons on the lift pad, and, again, we descended into the lower levels of the Ministry.

I pondered about how Harry knew exactly where to go and why, specifically, he felt Sirius would be found in the Department of Mysteries. Now that I think about it, Harry had never said specifically how he knew Sirius was there. We could have been chasing phantoms for all we knew -- or much, much worse. However, I kept my doubts in reserve. This is where I was meant to be, with my friends and family, aiding Harry as best I can to find Sirius.

Besides, Harry seemed so sure of himself.

The lift door slid open and we quietly entered the hallway that led to the Department of Mysteries. Once again, Harry shamelessly suggested that a few of us (no doubt meaning Neville, Luna and myself) stay behind as "lookouts". Annoyed with Harry's lack of trust in us, I began another angry retort on the fact that we were just as capable, but it was Neville that gave Harry the final word: we were coming with him no matter what. So, we followed Harry, wands at the ready, through the door.

We found ourselves in a large circular room, with large identical doors surrounding us. Neville shut the door and we stood in the dark, lit only by the flicker of blue flames coming from the floating candles about us. Harry looked confused, and I watched him pivot slightly on his heel, determining which door to use, when suddenly, something happened that none of us expected -- the walls began to spin around us.

Hermione tensed, as she grabbed for Harry's arm and watched the walls whirl around us with dizzying speed, and then, just as quickly, stop again. My stomach began to lurch, not from the disorienting doors, but from an uneasy feeling in my gut, which told me that it was a bad idea to come here. We weren't supposed to know which door we came from, and I said so when Ron asked what was going on.

When Ron asked Harry where to go from here, Harry hesitated. He obviously hadn't expected this, and told us that we should be looking for a glittering room. The only thing to do now was to just start trying doors.

I sighed quietly in exasperation and followed Harry and the others through the door directly in front of us. Harry had no idea where he was going or what he was doing. Even worse, it seemed we were already lost in the Department of Mysteries.

The first room we entered was, by far, one of the oddest rooms I'd ever seen. There were no glittering lights as Harry had described, but several desks facing an enormous tank with many even stranger looking fish. Only, they weren't fish at all, I realized as Hermione cocked her head and walked towards the tank. They were brains.

Why on earth would anyone keep a tank full of brains? Whose brains were they and how did they get there? I nearly gagged at the sickening answers that immediately popped into my brain before Harry stated that this wasn't the right place and that we should go back to the blue room.

As I was wondering how we were going to be able to tell where we'd been as we gathered back into the blue room, Hermione thankfully used a spell to mark the door with a large red X. One down, a dozen more to go. So much for a simple, heroic rescue. Spinning again, the doors, now with a red streak instead of blue, slowed and we headed for the next room.

The next room we entered was much larger than the last. A small amphitheatre with steps that lead down to the center of the room was placed on a large stone dais. On the center of the dais stood an archway, which was far older than the Ministry itself. Within the archway hung a frayed and torn looking veil, fluttering slightly, as though someone had just walked through it.

I don't know what it was about that darkened veil that intrigued me so, but I could not stop staring at it, as though someone or something was pulling my attention away from the world, and there was only the veil. I wasn't the only one either. Harry walked down the steps to the archway.

Stopping near Neville at the foot of the steps, I watched Harry investigate the archway, also unable to look away. Suddenly, I heard them. Voices were coming from the other side of the veil. My eyes widened with fright.

How can there be people in there? What do they want? I found myself overcome with the feeling of wanting to be there with them -- like I was meant to be there. The feeling of longing was intoxicating. So much so, that I was nearly ill when Hermione physically pulled me, as Ron did with Neville, away from the veil. We filed out of the room and back to the blue room, but not before Hermione had marked the door with another X.

We tried another door, but this time it was locked. Harry tried to open it with a knife he had gotten from Sirius, but to no avail, for it melted the blade. Harry stepped back and the room spun again. As I wondered if that wasn't the room, we were supposed to be in after all, Harry opened the door, and with a rush of excitement and relief, exclaimed that this was the room.

The room itself was filled with the most brilliant, gleaming light I'd ever seen. Upon entering the room, I realized that nearly every single centimeter of the place was covered in clocks -- the walls, tables and a few larger ones on the floor, ticking incessantly like a hundred Percy clones tapping the end of their quills on the desk as they wrote letters. Well, perhaps not that annoying. The source of the shimmering light, however, came from a huge crystal bell jar standing upright on a desk at the very end of the room, and I instantly forgot about the ticking when I saw the fascinating spectacle before me.

In the jar was an iridescent wind that sparkled brightly as its currents drifted about a small egg centered within it. The egg, in turn, would crack open, revealing a small red hummingbird, that would develop from chick to full grown bird as it sailed along the draft of wind inside to the very top of the bell jar. It reminded me, strangely enough, of Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. Once it reached the top, it would glide back down and become younger, until at last it was an egg again. The jar was positively mesmerizing, and I was in such awe just to look at it.

Harry hurried on to the door behind the bell jar, but I couldn't help myself, I was completely fascinated by the actions of the egg. I could have easily stopped to watch it all day. Just pondering the theories of time, space, and whether or not the bird or egg came first.

Of course, Harry had to push us on, and I must admit he was rather rude when he noticed my interest in the bell jar. By now, I had had just about enough of Harry's utter rudeness and ungrateful attitude. I even ma de a snide comment about him lingering near the archway in the last room. I immediately felt guilty afterwards, fully knowing that I was just as much uncontrollably drawn to the veiled archway as he was. Even thinking about it again was beginning to give me the creeps all over.

Opening the next door, it became obvious to me how very anxious Harry was. Gripping my wand even more tightly now, I knew we were nearing the end of our quest.

The room was enormous, with walls reaching at least ten meters high, with rows upon rows of shelves. What was more remarkable than anything was the fact that every single shelf in the room was filled with small glass orbs, just big enough to fit perfectly into the palm of one's hand? There must have been thousands of glass balls, mostly old and dusty, just sitting here. I noticed that the same kind of blue candles that had lit the circular room also lit every other row of shelves. Given the grandeur and darkness of the room, even the light from the candles made each row of shelves seem endless.

What a peculiar place to find Sirius, I thought. Why on earth would he be here?

Hermione mentioned that in Harry's dream the row he was on was ninety-seven, so we quickly, but quietly made our way down the rows, all of us now feeling the full brunt of Harry's nervous tension.

Passing the rows felt like an eternity, there were so many. The blackness seemed to engulf the light around us like a blanket. As we walked, I noticed that the orbs had a bit of a glow to them. Most of them were dim, likely covered up from the amount of dust on them. But, a few had a much brighter glow to them, as though a firefly was resting inside them.

The closer we came to row ninety-seven, my doubt was overwhelming me. I just couldn't understand why Sirius would be waiting for him here. As certain as Harry was that he'd find him there, I was becoming even more certain that he wasn't. Moreover, at this point, I began to wonder slightly if this wasn't a trap after all.

By the time we finally did reach row ninety-seven, Harry was visibly strained. We walked down to the very end of the row, finding nothing, not even a hint that Sirius had ever been there. Harry had been wrong, and I felt awful for him.

He was frantic now, muttering as he walked about, trying to convince himself that his godfather might have been down another row. He even snapped at Hermione when she suggested that Sirius wasn't there. He began pacing back and forth at the end of the rows, hoping that he could somehow catch a glimpse of Sirius and not have us go through this all in vain.

Ron tried to question him now, and Harry looked at him as though he could have easily bitten the head of a dragon. His face was so purple; it reminded me of Mum yelling at Fred and George. However, Harry stopped before he could yell at his best friend, who was pointing to one of the glass globes on the shelf.

The ball of glass had Harry's name on it.

"What is it?" Ron asked again. "What is your name doing down here?"

Harry looked completely perplexed. He looked down both sides of the row, perhaps looking for his name elsewhere before he turned back to the glowing orb and reached for it. Obviously nervous about the ball, Hermione hid her feelings behind a stern voice, suggesting that Harry not touch it. Believing in her intuition, I closed my eyes and tensed for a moment, thinking that something terrible was going to happen.

Curiosity overtaking him, Harry picked up the glass ball and looked at it. Nothing happened. I popped an eye open, then the other, and moved forward with the others to see what it was, as Harry brushed away the dust from the ball.

Unfortunately, the something horrible did happen. I heard the slight popping noise associated with apparating all around us, and we found ourselves surrounded by nearly a dozen Death Eaters.