If Thestrals weren't cursed with such a frightening appearance and strange traits, they would make truly excellent mounts.
Although the Hogwarts herd had rarely left the grounds, when Harry and the others told them their destination was the Ministry of Magic, they carried them straight there without error.
They landed before a red telephone booth.
The group squeezed inside. Harry's memory served him well—he recalled the number Mr. Weasley had used the first time they visited the Ministry together.
After he punched it in, a cold, detached female voice spoke.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood," Harry rattled off the names in quick succession. "We're here to rescue someone—unless, of course, the Ministry's already done the rescuing."
The only reply was that same chilly voice: "Thank you, visitors. Please take your badges and affix them to the front of your robes."
Five badges dropped from the coin slot, each printed with a name and the words Rescue Mission.
Clearly, this voice wasn't human.
After a final, curt instruction, the telephone booth began to sink slowly into the ground.
Fortunately, Harry's group wasn't built like Crabbe and Goyle from Slytherin—otherwise they'd have never managed to cram inside.
When they reached the familiar golden atrium, they found the place eerily silent.
The fireplaces set into the walls were cold and dark; not a single flame burned, and the Ministry of Magic felt utterly lifeless.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," the cold female voice intoned for the last time.
The telephone booth door sprang open, and Harry's group stepped out.
The golden Fountain of Magical Brethren still murmured with the sound of running water, but even the officials who should have been stationed there for checks were gone.
Harry led the way at a run through the atrium. Old Barty might complain the Ministry's facilities were outdated and in disrepair, but the place was still vast.
The farther Harry went, the more uneasy he felt.
The last time he'd been here, the Ministry had been bustling with people.
Even near closing time, it shouldn't have been this deserted.
They passed through the golden gates and headed toward the lifts.
The sense of foreboding only grew stronger, but with Sirius on his mind, Harry still pressed the button for the lowest level.
"Percy works here," Hermione suddenly said. "Ron told me he's a workaholic—he might still be around at this hour."
She glanced at Harry as she finished speaking.
"We don't have that kind of time," Harry said urgently.
Hermione fell silent at that, while Ginny's mind began to turn.
At the Weasley household, Percy had always been good to Ginny.
After all, in a house full of brothers, she was the only sister.
She glanced at the button for the fifth floor and quietly committed it to memory.
Luna looked like a dazed little wanderer who had accidentally stumbled into the Ministry, and Ginny felt it was her duty to keep her safe.
The lift arrived at the Department of Mysteries, and the gate slid open.
The corridor outside was completely empty, and at the far end stood a black door exactly like the one from Harry's dreams.
Harry stared at it. This wasn't the first time he'd seen it—in fact, over the past year, he'd seen it far too many times in his sleep.
"Let's go," Harry said softly, as though afraid of disturbing someone.
When they were only a few feet from the black door, Harry remembered Hermione's suggestion. "Actually, Hermione might be right—we could have someone go find Percy, and then—"
"I think that's fine, but I've got one question," Ron interrupted. "If Percy isn't there and we've split up, how do we meet back up?"
It was as if he'd read Harry's mind. "Don't even think about ditching us, mate," Ron said.
Harry glanced back at the four of them and saw no sign of hesitation on any face.
The rush of impulsiveness faded, and he found himself calming down.
Suddenly, he had to admit—Hermione had been right. Sometimes, he really wasn't all that level-headed. So he had wanted to face it alone—but his companions hadn't backed down.
Now, standing before the door, there was no choice left.
Harry stepped up to the black door, just like in his dreams, and it opened.
They walked inside into a large, circular room.
The black walls were lined with many identical black doors—no markings, no handles.
Branch-like candle sconces dotted the walls, their blue flames casting a cold light. Reflected on the gleaming marble floor, the light made it look like a dark, rippling pool.
"Who shut the door?" Harry asked—and instantly regretted it.
When Ron pushed the door closed, the already dim room was left lit only by those faint blue flames.
Harry wanted to hurry across, but then the twelve doors from his dreams began to move.
It was the wall—the circular wall itself was rotating.
When it finally stopped, they no longer knew which door they'd entered through.
They needed to stay calm. With no way to tell which was the doorway from Harry's dream, they could only pick one at random.
It opened into an empty room.
Perhaps after the darkness of the last one, this room felt much brighter to them.
This room didn't have the flickering, swaying lights Harry had seen in his dreams.
There were only a few tables, and in the center stood a massive glass tank—big enough for all of them to swim in.
Inside was a deep green liquid, with dozens of pearly white things drifting lazily about.
Ginny thought they were fish, while Luna believed they were Wrackspurts—but Hermione recognized them at a glance.
They were brains.
Watching a whole cluster of brains swimming was far from a pleasant sight.
"Let's get out of here," Harry said. "This isn't right—we need to find another door."
"There are some doors here too," Ron pointed out, gesturing at the surrounding walls, which made Harry's heart sink.
No one knew how big the Department of Mysteries really was—or how many such doors it held.
But this place wasn't the room from his dream, so he led them all back into the dark, circular chamber.
Just as he was about to shut the door they'd come through, Hermione called out sharply to stop him.
She pulled out her wand and marked the door, showing they had already opened it.
The clever move made the others silently think how smart she was.
When the door closed and the walls began to spin again, they instantly spotted the door they'd just been through.
Harry walked up to another door, the others following close behind with their wands raised.
This room was even bigger than the last.
It was rectangular, with the floor sunken into a massive stone pit about twenty feet deep.
All around were tiered stone benches, and they stood at the very top.
To Harry, it felt a lot like the Wizengamot courtroom he'd once been in.
The difference was that this place was larger, and instead of a chained chair in the center, there was a raised platform with a stone archway standing upon it.
The arch looked ancient, worn, and decayed—
—yet somehow, it still stood upright.
There was nothing supporting it, only a tattered, black curtain or veil hanging from it.
Though there was no wind, the veil stirred gently as if something were brushing against it.
"Who's there?" Harry suddenly called out.
He leapt down, making his way over the stone benches to the floor of the pit.
"Sirius?" He thought he heard something from beyond the veil.
But there was nothing behind it—only a faint murmur of voices, just quiet enough that he couldn't make out a single word.
"Harry, let's go, alright?" Hermione called, urging him to leave.
Harry raised his voice toward the archway. "What are you saying?"
"No one's talking, Harry!" Hermione couldn't sit still any longer—she came down after him.
But Harry stubbornly dodged the hand she reached out to him, which immediately made Hermione uneasy.
This was the Department of Mysteries—one of the most secretive, important places in the entire Ministry of Magic.
No one knew what kind of magic here might affect someone.
Luna seemed to be under its influence as well, which added frustration to Hermione's worry.
"We're here to rescue Sirius, not to stand around staring at that archway like idiots!"
Her words finally had an effect—Harry snapped back to his real purpose.
He stepped down from the platform, only to glance back and see Ginny standing there.
Without a word, Hermione marched up and yanked Ginny down.
Ron opened his mouth, then closed it—after all, that was his sister, and maybe she could've been handled more gently.
Too much time had already been wasted here, leaving Harry slightly dazed.
As they left, he asked Hermione if she knew what it was.
Hermione shot him a glare—how could she possibly know?
She marked the door, then shut it again.
The walls began to rotate once more.
When they stopped, Harry walked up to another door.
He pushed—it didn't open.
Excitement stirred among them. Maybe this was the right one.
Hermione tried an Unlocking Charm, but it didn't work. Harry took out the knife Sirius had given him—a tool even better than the charm, one that could open any lock.
But the moment he slid it into the crack, not only did the door stay shut—the blade melted away.
They were at a loss. Hermione reasoned it probably wasn't the right door anyway—Harry's dream had shown him walking through without trouble.
After marking it, the walls spun again.
When they stopped this time, Harry pushed open a door.
Seeing those familiar flickering lights, he felt a rush of excitement he could barely contain.
They had found it!
They quickened their pace, heading toward the other door from his dreams.
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