After what seemed like an eternity, the foggy skyscape of London came into view. Harry led the way through the city, flying dangerously low in his haste. His scar was throbbing painfully, which could only mean one thing. Voldemort was close, and he likely had Sirius with him.
He finally spotted the battered old telephone booth that served as the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Gesturing to the others, he made a sharp dive towards the ground. He pulled up just in time and landed in a nearby alleyway, the rest of the group close behind him.
"We should hide our brooms," Hermione said in a low voice. They stacked them against a brick wall as she cast a disillusionment charm over them. The street appeared to be deserted, but a pile of brooms would look suspicious if anyone came across them.
"So, what now?" Cho asked, shivering slightly from the chilly night air. "How do we get to the Ministry?"
"Over here." Harry walked to the telephone booth and opened the door.
Ron peered over his shoulder curiously. "A fellytone booth? How does that help us?"
Harry didn't bother to correct him. "It's the entrance, but…" He turned to the others. "Look, it's a bit cramped inside, so maybe some of you should wait out—"
"Well, then," Fred and George cut him off, grinning, "it's a good thing we've had plenty of practice with the shrinking spell, isn't it?"
He looked at the others for help, but none came. Accepting defeat, he waited for them to cast the charm, then they all went inside together.
He dialed the code into the receiver and a moment later a cool female voice spoke, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
Harry took a deep breath, listed all of their names very quickly, then said, "We're here to save someone, and we're in a hurry."
"Thank you," the woman said in the same calm, cool tone. "Visitors, here are your badges. Please attach them to the front of your robes for the duration of your visit."
"Alright," Harry said in an agitated voice as he reached into the metal chute and pulled out a handful of metal badges. "Now can we get going?"
As if on cue, the floor gave a shudder and they began to sink into the ground. The door eventually reopened into the Atrium. It had been bustling with people the last time he had been here, but now it was completely deserted. Harry swallowed back his sense of foreboding as he led the way to the gold lifts.
He glanced over the panel of buttons and quickly pressed the number nine. A moment later the grilles of the lift opened, revealing a very familiar corridor with a large black door at the end of it.
"Is this it, do you think?" Hermione whispered.
He nodded as he looked around himself in amazement. After seeing it in his dreams all year, he was actually here. He strode over to the door, the others following hurriedly behind him, and flung it open.
Even though he had seen it a hundred times before, his jaw still dropped. The room was cavernously huge and filled with row upon row of glass orbs.
Another sharp pain pierced his forehead. They were getting close.
He found the number fifty-two on the row nearest to him, and after taking a moment to get his bearings, started running. Finally, he saw it. Row ninety-seven. He hurried down the aisle, looking frantically for Sirius.
Only after he had been up and down the entire row twice did he accept that his godfather wasn't there. He glanced at his friends, who were panting heavily. Had this all been for nothing? Had he led them straight into a trap?
"Harry, come look at this," Ron's voice came from behind him.
"What is it?" Harry said eagerly, thinking that maybe he had found a clue to where Sirius was.
But his hopes fell just as quickly as they had risen when he saw what Ron was pointing to. It was an unremarkable orb, just as dusty and ancient looking as all the others.
"What?" he asked impatiently.
"The label for this glass ball thingy has your name on it."
"Huh?" Harry stood on tiptoe and peered at the yellowish label closely. Sure enough, it read:
S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.
Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter
He picked up the orb carefully, but nothing happened. He was still wondering what it meant, when right behind him, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now, nice and slowly, hand it over to me."