The classrooms were a sea of furiously scratching quills. The fifth-year O.W.L. examination for History of Magic was underway, a three-hour marathon of remembering goblin rebellions and giant wars. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and concentrated stress. The exams were occurring in several classrooms simultaneously with students separated randomly.
Ariana sat at her desk, her own exam paper already completed, a flawless dissertation on the socio-economic impact of the 1709 Wand-Maker's Convention. Her mind was calm, her work finished. She was simply observing the room, her senses attuned to the ambient magic of the castle.
And then she felt it.
It was a sudden, brilliant ripple of pure, positive energy moving through the castle with incredible speed and a singular, desperate purpose. It was a beacon of hope and fear, and it was aimed directly at her.
A moment later, a magnificent, silvery stag with great, branching antlers galloped silently through the stone wall of the room. It paid no mind to the gasping students or the startled Professor in charge. The stag trotted directly to Ariana's desk, dipped its shining head once, and then dissolved into a shower of silver mist.
The message was delivered. Harry was in distress. The trap had been sprung.
Ariana stood up. Without a word to the stunned proctor, she placed her completed exam paper neatly on her desk and walked out of the exam room with a calm, unhurried stride that radiated absolute authority.
The first step was location. She pulled the Marauder's Map from a shielded pocket in her robes. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The intricate lines spread across the parchment. Her eyes scanned the moving dots of names. She found him instantly. Harry Potter. He was not in any examination room. He was in the Defence Against the Dark Arts office—pacing back and forth like a caged animal. And with him were Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.
She moved, her pace quickening into a silent, fluid glide. She reached the office in under a minute. Pushing the door open, she found a scene of frantic panic.
"—we have to go! He's got him! I saw it!" Harry was yelling, his face pale with terror.
"But Harry, what if it's a trick?" Hermione pleaded, her voice full of a desperate reason.
"A trick? I saw Voldemort torturing him! We can't just wait!"
"Stop."
The single word from Ariana cut through their panic like a physical blow. They all spun to face her.
"You are panicking," she said to Harry, her voice cold and steady, a splash of ice water on his hysteria. "Your emotional state is compromised. You are reacting, not thinking. Cease this course of action immediately."
"But Sirius—!"
"You have a protocol, Harry," she interrupted, her gaze unwavering. "You have a tool for immediate verification. Use it."
Harry stared at her, his mind foggy with fear. It took him a moment to understand. The mirror. The two-way mirror Sirius had given him. In his terror, he had completely forgotten it.
He fumbled in his bag, pulling out the small, wrapped shard of mirror. "Sirius!" he yelled at it, his voice cracking. "Sirius, are you there?"
The mirror remained blank. "See! He's not there! He's been taken!"
"Give it to me," Ariana commanded. She took the mirror. She looked at its surface, then at Harry. "You are asking for Sirius Black. The house may be under orders not to respond to anyone but its master. The house-elf, however, is bound by a different set of protocols." She looked into the mirror. "Kreacher."
For a moment, nothing. Then, the surface of the mirror swirled, and the wizened, resentful face of the house-elf appeared. "The Wise Young Mistress calls?" he croaked.
"Kreacher," Ariana said, her voice sharp. "My friend is attempting to contact his godfather, Sirius Black. He is not answering. Is Sirius Black currently at number twelve, Grimmauld Place?"
Kreacher's large eyes darted back and forth. A flicker of malice and deceit crossed his face. "Master is not here," he lied, his voice a sly rasp. "Master has gone out."
Ariana's eyes narrowed. "Kreacher. You are bound to the new Lord of the House of Black, which is Sirius. But you are also bound by your loyalty to the memory of your previous master, Regulus. A master whose final wish I am helping to fulfill by containing the locket. You will not lie to me."
The elf flinched as if struck. Her words had bypassed his master's orders and hit upon a deeper, more profound loyalty. He hesitated, his face a war of conflicting commands.
"Take this mirror to Sirius Black. Now," Ariana commanded, her voice leaving no room for disobedience.
With a miserable groan, Kreacher's image vanished. A moment later, the mirror swirled again, and Sirius's concerned, astonished face appeared. "Harry? What's going on? Kreacher said…"
"Sirius! You're alright!" Harry gasped, a wave of relief so powerful it almost made him buckle.
"Of course I'm alright," Sirius said, confused. "I'm just having a cup of tea. What's wrong?"
"The vision was a lie," Ariana stated simply, taking the mirror back. "Sirius, listen carefully. Voldemort has made his move. He has lured Harry into a trap. The target is the Department of Mysteries. He wants the prophecy. He has sent Death Eaters there, likely including Bellatrix. We are activating the counter-plan. Prepare the Order of the Phoenix. Also co-ordinate with Dumbledore as we are going to flip the trap on him."
"Understood," Sirius said, his face instantly hardening into the grim mask of a soldier. "We'll be ready." The mirror went blank.
The immediate crisis was averted. But the larger one had just begun. Voldemort's forces were already at the Ministry.
"Hermione," Ariana said, turning to her friend. "The D.A. The loyal members. I need you to contact them."
"What for?" Ron asked, looking bewildered.
"To create a diversion and act as a secondary force," Ariana explained, her mind already mapping out the strategy. "We cannot allow Harry to go to the Ministry alone. Voldemort will expect that. But he will not expect a full-scale, coordinated response."
She sent her Thunderbird Patronus flashing through the castle, splitting in multiple Patroni. They were sent to Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Snape, with a simple, urgent message: "The serpent has moved. The Headmaster's office. Now."
"Let's go," Ariana said to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. She then looked at the door, where Neville, Luna, and Ginny had just arrived, having seen the Patronus from a classroom down the hall, their faces determined. "You three, too. We're going to need all of you."
They ran, a small, determined army, towards the Headmaster's office. They were not falling into a trap. They were consciously, deliberately, walking into a battle, but they were doing so on their own terms. They were armed with the truth, a clear plan, and the full, coordinated support of their allies. The Battle of the Department of Mysteries was about to begin, but it would not be the chaotic, desperate skirmish from the original story. It would be a calculated, strategic engagement.