Chapter 37. Department of Mysteries

The hall was adorned in a cloak of black marble, with a golden fountain in the shape of magical figures - a enchantress, a wizard, a goblin, a centaur, and a house-elf - bubbling at its center. The fireplaces along the walls were not lit, and the atrium was deserted, with no sign of the duty wizard.

Harry stood up from the floor and brushed off the soot from his journey. He stepped out of the fireplace. Soon, green flames burst to life in the neighboring fireplaces. Gracefully, Jeanne emerged from one, while Mash clumsily stumbled out from the other. Jeanne paid no attention to Mish, not extending a hand or uttering a word. With a haughty expression on her face, she stood with her back to Mash, clearly displaying her own superiority. Shortly after, two more bursts of fiery light announced the arrival of Dumbledore and Fujimaru from another fireplace. Dumbledore appeared completely unfazed and cast a penetrating gaze around the Ministerial Atrium.

"d'Arc, help your friend," he instructed Jeanne.

Jeanne swiftly removed the shield from Mash's back and pulled her close. Jeanne grabbed Mash by the shield slung over her back and pulled her upwards. The deliberate push and sharp palm strike between her shoulder blades instantly stopped Mash's cough, replaced by tears streaming down her face.

Finally, Mash stood up and picked up her shield from the floor. Fujimaru rushed over to her.

"How are you?" he asked her.

"I'm fine," she whispered weakly.

But Harry couldn't help but notice the fear and pain in her eyes, how she held onto her shield as if it were a lifebuoy. He had seen it before in the eyes of those who had experienced significant trauma. His heart ached for her.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," he began, his voice echoing through the silence of the atrium. "I hope you all arrived safely?"

There was a murmured agreement.

"We are not here just for the sake of it, my friends," Dumbledore reminded them. "If we still want to save someone, we should hurry. Arthur is in the Department of Mysteries, and it would be prudent for us to take the lift there."

He led the way, pointing towards the lift. As the doors closed behind them, the director continued his speech.

"I must remind you that we do not know how the unknown Servant will react to each of you. When we exit the lift on the desired floor, remain vigilant and let our fine ladies go ahead."

A sense of unease filled the lift cabin, as if everyone present knew that things were about to get worse. Silence fell, and then Mish stepped forward, her eyes shining with fierce determination.

"We stand together," she exclaimed. "Let's get down to business!"

She impatiently jumped in place, causing the cabin to shake dangerously, and a horrifying screech sounded from outside. Everyone around was genuinely frightened, except for Dumbledore, who remained composed and calm, and Jeanne, who flared up with anger.

"Quiet!" Jeanne placed her hand on Mash's head. "One more stunt like that..."

Her words were drowned out by the crashing of golden bars, and a second later, a cool female voice announced,

"Department of Mysteries."

Harry found this place. He expected to see Skrimger and his dark fighters here, but instead he found traces of a fierce battle and a thick fog with an unpleasant smell. Skrimger himself, resembling a lion in appearance, sat behind a protrusion in the wall near the elevator, surrounding his head with a sort of bubble. Harry had seen a similar bubble on Cedric's face during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Noticing the guests, Skrimger gestured for them to go back.

Jeanne was the first to step out of the elevator. Squinting her eyes, she took a deep breath.

"Cheap tricks..." she muttered.

Mash passed by her and immediately adopted a combat stance, holding a shield in front of her.

"What are your orders, Master?" Mash asked.

Fujimaru replied through the handkerchief covering his face:

"Save Mr. Weasley."

Dumbledore and his students stood, wrapped in glowing silhouettes. Neither Ron nor Harry knew these spells, but Dumbledore had taken care of them, surrounding them with a reliable protection from the suffocating fog.

"What happened here?" Dumbledore asked Skrimger.

"Albus, have you gone mad? Get out of here right now!" Skrimger called to them. "Some... someone..." he hesitated. "There is some creature here, it's extremely dangerous. This fog... one of my rookies got poisoned by it, had to get him out with a couple of people. Several more of my men went scouting and disappeared without a trace. There should still be... This... This creature... You should have seen it! It single-handedly took down twenty dark fighters!"

"And no spells work on it, undoubtedly?" Dumbledore asked, cleaning his glasses.

"How do you know?" Skrimger replied.

"We came here with someone who deals with these creatures as part of his duty..." he began, putting his glasses back on.

"Tell me, did you personally see this creature?" Fujimaru asked as clearly as he could through his handkerchief.

"I... saw... But... " Skrimger's eyes widened, and his voice trembled. "I don't remember what it is... or who it is."

"No words, no special characteristics?" Skrimger responded with an empty gaze. Fujimaru exchanged glances with Jeanne and Mash.

"Your target is Jack the Ripper," he said.

Mash nodded approvingly, and Jeanne smiled ominously, her eyes sparked with excitement. At that moment, her face contorted into a grotesque caricature of madness, and she let out a horrifying, soul-chilling laughter that echoed through the fog. It was a laughter that made even the bravest people tremble in fear, a laughter that seemed to belong to a creature with the darkest and most twisted imagination. Rufus Skrimger felt his heart pounding in his chest, unable to help but wonder if he had just made a deal with true evil, something much scarier than even Voldemort himself. In that moment, she looked exactly like that Jeanne d'Arc Alter that Harry had seen in his nightmares.

Jeanne opened a simple black door, and Mash followed her inside.

Mash made her way through the fog, her heart pounding as she tried to keep up with Jeanne's brisk pace. The silence surrounding them was deafening, interrupted only by the sound of footsteps echoing through the misty room, until they reached the site of the recent clash between the shadow fighters and Jack. With each step, Mash couldn't help but wonder what awaited them ahead.

Finally, they arrived at the scene of the clash. The stench of death hung in the air, and Mash recoiled at the sight of wounded bodies scattered everywhere. Her eyes widened in horror as she beheld the gruesome spectacle before her. It took a moment for her to gather herself before she knelt down to check if they were alive.

"He's alive!" she exclaimed, stunned by the sight before her.

Jeanne's voice cut through the fog, breaking the silence with her indifferent tone, "We'll deal with him later. We have other work to do now."

Mash exploded, "You... heartless!"

Within moments, Jeanne's eyes were in front of Mash's face. Her gaze, completely devoid of any hint of compassion, pierced through her. For a moment, Mash felt fear, wondering if she had underestimated Jeanne's ruthlessness. Jeanne stared at Mash silently for a second, then calmly spoke:

"I am not the Jeanne d'Arc you expected to see, and we don't have time for that now."

Reluctantly, Mash fell silent, unsure but willing to trust Jeanne's decision. They continued their journey towards Arthur Uisley and their ultimate goal of neutralizing Jack. Mash could only hope that their actions would lead to victory as she followed Jeanne into the foggy darkness, pondering whether the end justified the means. With each step, Mash questioned the justification of their actions, whether they had overlooked something truly important. But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand, and followed Jeanne into the misty abyss.

Jeanne kicked open one of the many doors of the circular room. Behind it was a huge space. It resembled a stadium in scale, where Irish and Bulgarian Quidditch players competed last year. But in this room, almost pitch-black darkness reigned. Along the walls, numerous shelves stretched, each shelf filled with small glass balls.

As the door crumbled under the force of her kick, Jeanne Alter stepped into the room, assuming a defensive position with her sword aimed forward. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for any signs of her target.

"Is anyone here?" she shouted, her voice echoing in the surrounding silence.

There was no response, but she sensed someone's presence in the room. Her senses were heightened, and her heart pounded in her chest. The elusive silhouette of someone, barely visible, darted from one corner of the room to another. Jeanne knew for certain – she couldn't be fooled by such childish games. Therefore, with each passing second, her blood burned hotter with growing anger.

"Come out and face me!" she demanded. Contempt permeated her voice.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. She turned just in time to see Jack the Ripper emerge from the shadows, wearing a malicious smile on her face for a split second.

"Well, well, well," Jack said, her voice low and mesmerizing. "I've been wondering when someone would finally show up."

Jeanne tightened her grip on her sword. She raised it up, ready to strike.

"Well, hello, Jack the Ripper!" Jeanne burst into a ringing, rolling laughter. "Shall we dance?"

Jack laughed in response – a sharp, grating sound that irritated Jeanne Alter's nerves.

"You won't be able to defeat me with that," she said, nodding towards Jeanne Alter's sword. "I'm too fast, too agile for you."

Jeanne Alter didn't say a word, but her eyes ignited with anger and challenge. She knew that Jack was right, but she refused to back down. Smirking deviously, she chased after Jack.