Harry Potter & The Thousand Mysteries

The Ministry of Magic

'Finally!' cried Hermione, exasperated, to Harry and Ron, as, at long last, they appeared at the bottom of the Boys' Staircase, holding their trunks.

'Why do we need to take our trunks?' asked Harry, for what seemed like the thirtieth time that morning.

'We just do,' said Ron, exasperated, as he opened the portrait hole.

They descended the school is silence, not wanting to speak about anything for fear of being overheard.

'Arry!' called Fleur as they crossed the Entrance Hall. 'Can I speak to you for a moment?'

'Yeah, sure,' said Harry. 'I'll be two minutes,' he added turning to Ron and Hermione, who nodded.

'Arry,' said Fleur. Harry suddenly noticed how beautiful she was, as she shook her long, silvery-blonde hair back over her shoulders. 'I 'ave no one to go with to zee Ball, zince I am engaged.' Once again, she flashed her magnificent ring in his face. 'Would you go with me zis year, non-romantically, naturellement? Eef you are not going with anyone else, zat it?'

'O-Of Course!' said Harry, smiling broadly. Fleur Delacour had asked him to the Ball. He felt he could have danced a merry jig.

'Excellent!' she cried. 'I 'ave to go for lunch, now,' she said, smiling at him. 'Zee you latair, I 'ope!' she swept down and kissed him on each cheek, before striding off into the Great Hall.

'What was that about?' asked Ron.

'Oh, nothing,' said Harry. 'I'm just going to the Ball with Fleur, that's all.'

'What?' asked Ron. 'You're going with her!'

'Yup,' said Harry, smiling. The expression on Hermione's face, however, quelled his smile instantly.

'Come on,' she said briskly, sounding like Professor McGonagall. 'We might miss our train.'

They opened the doors of the Entrance Hall, and walked out into the cold winter sunshine.

'Harry! And Hermione and Ron!' called Dumbledore, from his position at the bottom of the stone steps, beside a solitary horseless carriage. 'There you lot are!' He handed a slip of parchment to an owl, and it took flight immediately.

'Morning, professor,' said Hermione, as they reached the bottom of the steps.

'Good Morning indeed!' exclaimed Dumbledore. 'I'm sure you're all fixed up with the arrangements, so I'll just leave you to go no your way.'

'Is this carriage for us?' asked Ron.

'It is, yes. It will take you to the station, where the train is waiting.' They climbed inside, and Dumbledore waved to them. 'See you at Hermione's reception! Have a nice journey!'

The carriage door snapped shut, and it trundled forward.

'Wasn't that nice of Dumbledore coming out just to say goodbye to us,' said Hermione, as the carriage bumped and rocked away from the school.

When they reached the station, they hurriedly paid for three tickets at the Platform Attendant, and climbed aboard. It wasn't the Hogwarts Express, but another train. They settled themselves in their compartment.

'No Malfoy to disturb us during this journey,' said Ron, as the train began to move.

'Thank god!' said Harry. 'And no Dursleys waiting for me at the other end. Anyone for snap?'

Harry and Ron passed the journey talking about Quidditch and playing games. When the tea-lady came round, the same one that served on the Express, they bought a great deal of cakes and sweets.

'Merry Christmas!' they called to her, as she trundled her trolley back along.

Slowly, the clock on the wall ticked past eight o'clock, then eight fifteen, then eight thirty, then quarter to nine, then nine, then five past nine, then ten past nine, then half past nine. Hermione was immersed in reading her book (something on Ancient Runes- Harry couldn't read the title), while Ron amused himself looking in the pictures of Ballycastle Bats: They swing, they shoot, they score, and they catch! Harry looked out the window, as the scenery around them turned from snow-covered to completely frost-free.

'We will be arriving at Kings Cross Station in five minutes,' called the captain's voice, and Harry was reminded once more of his vivid dream. We're not on a boat, he told himself. And anyway, every Tom, Dick and Harry has the occasional nightmare, he thought logically. It's nothing to cut myself up about.

Ron, Harry and Hermione vacated their compartment and jumped onto the station, just as the train pulled to a stop. Ron dashed to get a trolley for their trunks, while Harry and Ron yawned and stretched on the platform.

'I didn't know they used Platform 9&¾ as a station the rest of the year,' said Harry.

'Oh, yes,' said Hermione. 'Two trains depart from here every day- one for Hogsmeade and one for Nyallnithe- that's a tiny wizarding hamlet in Wales.'

They wheeled their trolley to the entrance of the Muggle Station, where a middle-aged man in a black suit and cap walked up to them.

'Might I enquire if you are a Mister Harry Potter?' he asked, in a thick cockney accent.

'Yes, I am,' said Harry, giving him a small wave.

'Excellent, sir,' replied the man. 'My name is Freddy Thurso, and I'll be your driver while you sit on the Counsel.' He took the trolley from Harry and led him through the hidden barrier entrance way. Hermione and Ron both raised their eyebrows. 'Come along,' said Hermione quietly to Harry, who blushed.

Freddy led them to a polished green Aston Martin, and held the door open for them to enter. As usual for wizard cars, the inside was much larger than it would have appeared from the outside. In the car, there were two settees, a drinks cabinet, a telephone, and a copy of the Evening Prophet.

'We'll be heading off to the Baumeberg Hotel, sir,' said Freddy, as he climbed into his seat at the front, which was separated from the rest of the car by a black grill. 'It shouldn't take us more than ten minutes.' He pressed a button, and the grill became a solid sheet of metal.

'Well, Your Majesty,' said Ron cynically.

'Don't!' cried Harry, burying his face in his hands. 'It's so embarrassing!'

'Let's have a nightcap,' said Hermione, as she inspected the drinks cabinet. Inside, there were ten glasses, along with sherry, whisky, gin, claret, dubonet, coca-cola, Pepsi, tonic water, mineral water, pumpkin juice, tea, coffee, herbal teas and a vast array of biscuits, sweets, nuts and other nibbles.

'They do it well, don't they,' said Ron, eyeing the cabinet as Hermione poured his a coke.

'I think I might just get to like the Counsel stuff!' said Harry, smiling and toasting Hermione and Ron with his glass.

'I'll be back at ten o'clock in the morning to take you to Ministry HQ, sir,' said Freddy, as they stood in the lobby of the Baumberg Hotel. 'And I'll be driving you to a reception in Diagon Alley at six thirty and then I'll take you back to the Ministry for the Counsel. Are there any changes you want me to make to your schedule for tomorrow?' he asked.

'No, thanks, I'll see you at ten!' said Harry, and he walked over to the couch where Hermione and Ron were sitting, yawning.

'I think we better get into bed,' said Harry, handing them both their room key. 'I'm getting picked up at ten. What are you two going to do?'

'I have to be in Obscurus for twelve,' said Hermione, sleepily, 'and I want to do some shopping as well.'

'I'll go with 'mione,' said Ron.

'Okay- night!' called Harry, and headed for the lift, to take him up to his room.

BRING-BRING! BRING-BRING!

'What the...?' said Harry groggily, as he was roused from his deep sleep. The bed in the Executive Suite of the Baumberg Hotel had been so comfortable Harry wished he could have spent the rest of his life there.

Harry searched frantically for the source of the sound, finally discovering it to be the telephone on the bedside table.

'What?' he whispered woozily down the receiver.

'GOOD MORNING!' shouted a cheery female voice back. 'This is your eight thirty wake up call, Mr. Potter. Good Morning.'

Harry slammed the phone down- he didn't remember ordering any wake-up calls. Slowly, he hauled his sleepy mass out the sumptuous bed and into the bathroom, where he splashed his face with water, in a vain attempt to wake himself up.

He showered and dressed, before heading down to the dining room for breakfast. Hermione and Ron obviously weren't up yet, so Harry made himself a bowl of Frosties Cereal from the buffet table, and sat down.

'Mr. Potter?' asked a waitress. 'These are your newspapers.'

'I didn't order any newspapers,' said Harry. 'There must be some mistake.'

'Oh, no, sir, your driver ordered them for you last night. He ordered your wake up call as well.'

'Right,' said Harry, taking the newspapers. 'Thank you.'

I really could get used to this, thought Harry, as he poured himself a glass of orange juice. I can see know why Fudge is so pompous, living with this twenty-four hours a day.

He leafed through the stack of newspapers, which included a copy of the Sun, the Mirror, the Telegraph, the Guardian, USA Today and the Daily Prophet, cleverly concealed within the G2 section of the Guardian.

'Harry,' said a voice behind him, and he turned to see Hermione. 'Have a nice night?'

'I couldn't get up this morning, my bed was that comfortable,' he replied.

'All ready for your important meeting, Mister VIP?' she asked him.

'Hardly. I don't have a clue what to say, or what to do.'

'I'm sure Dumbledore will help you out. If you're really stuck, just smile and agree with what everyone else says.'

'Do you think I'll have to make any decisions?'

'I hope not! You?' she scoffed. 'I'm sure they'll give you information on any decisions, and anyway, Counsels of Distress always vote on their decisions. I read it last night in my autobiography of Gertrude Crofter, the Minister before the Minister before Fudge.' She took a glass of orange juice. 'Is that the Guardian? I haven't seen this in ages!' She took the newspaper from him, and began to read it avidly.

Harry kept a close eye on the large metallic clock all the way through breakfast, during which he and Hermione either chatted or read the newspapers. He felt his heart beat faster as the minute hand approached the 12, which would make the time ten o'clock.

As he watched the long silver stick strike twelve, Freddy appeared in the doorway of the Dining Room.

'I better go,' he said nervously. 'See you tonight.'

'Don't be late,' said Hermione, not looking up from the article she was engrossed in. 'Good Luck!'

'Morning, sir,' said Freddy. 'We're heading straight for the Ministry HQ, for your tour and your briefing, first.' He opened the car door for Harry to enter. Harry felt himself go red as he saw a few Muggles checking into the hotel look at him as if he were some kind of Hollywood celebrity.

'You don't have to keep opening doors for me, Freddy,' he said.

'Certainly, sir,' replied Freddy, as he closed the door.

'You can call me Harry, too.'

'Thank you, sir. Seatbelts fastened!' The car purred into life, and glided forward.

Freddy drove Harry down several busy cosmopolitan streets, teeming with cars and buses and taxis and pedestrians.

The turned a corner and found themselves in a shady avenue, lined with large oak trees. There were small cafés and bookshops dotted along the picturesque street. In the middle of the street there was a large, red brick building, about ten stories high, with hundreds of windows peering out onto the street below. Looking around, Harry thought no-one would have known it was Christmas Eve. It was Georgian in style- it looked very grand, but also understated and unassuming to the eye.

Freddy turned down a small lane, and into a large courtyard-style place. Everything was in the same red brick façade, and a square at the top opened out to the sky.

'Here we are, sir,' said Freddy, as he joined the queue of Ministry Cars waiting to let their occupier disembark. Freddy's car pulled up to the tall brick pillars which stood before the revolving entrance door, and a porter in a dark green uniform pulled the car door open, allowing a blast of cold air into the otherwise perfectly temperatured car.

'Where do I go?' asked Harry, as the porter shut the door again, and Freddy drove off.

'Just go in there, sir, and they'll help you. Move along, now,' he said, as another car pulled up.

Harry pushed his way through the revolving doors, and found himself in a warm, large room. Light was flooding in from a glass dome in the ceiling, and reflecting off the highly polished black and white marble floor tiles. A large, mahogany reception desk barricaded twenty or so secretaries, all wearing brightly coloured robes, from the rest of the room. There were several dark polished wood doors leading off the reception room. All around Harry, people were Apparating and hurrying in through doors and out doors, clutching briefcases and wads of parchment. Some people who were Apparating were brushing snow off their cloaks, before dashing off through a doorway to an unknown zone.

'Next!' called one of the secretaries, and Harry walked up to her.

'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic Central Office,' she said, sounding as if this were the five millionth time she'd said it in her life. 'I'm Suzie, how can I help you?'

'I'm Harry Potter- I've just come from Hogwarts...'

'KAREN!' bawled Suzie, giving Harry an unflattering view of her tonsils. 'KAREN!'

She turned back to Harry. 'Karen'll deal with you- she'll be here in a moment. KAREN!'

A woman in a green and white striped dress with frizzy black hair came hurrying over, clutching a huge pile of folders and papers.

'Hi!' she said, gasping fro breath. 'You must be Harry. I'm Karen Legg, I'm the Aide to the Counsel of Distress.'

'Hi,' said Harry, unsure of what to do. He'd never been in this kind of workplace environment before- Uncle Vernon would happily have driven a Grunnings Drill through his own foot rather than take Harry to work with him.

'NEXT!' shouted Suzie behind them, and Karen sidled out the way to let a tall man in a blood red velvet cloak pass.

'Morning, Mr Greene,' she said, smiling.

'Good morning, Ms Legg,' he replied, bowing to her. 'I suppose I'll see you at the Counsel tonight?'

'Indeed, sir, I'm the aide again.' The man in the red cloak smiled and walked off through a doorway.

'That was George Greene,' she said quietly to Harry, as they walked through a door and down a taupe corridor. 'He's an extremely talented Muggle-born wizard- he's o representing the Confederation on the Counsel. He's a really decent chap- dead easy to work with.'

'Can I ask you something?' said Harry.

'Fire away,' said Karen, as they rounded a corner into yet another corridor.

'I was reading that thy have to announce when the Counsel of Distress is sitting- but Fudge didn't announce it. How can he do that?' He tried to sound as if he knew what he was talking about, but in his heart of hearts, Harry didn't have a Scooby.

'That's right, Harry, it does have to be announced,' said Karen. 'But there's a loophole in that law- it doesn't say to whom you have to announce it, only that it must be announced in the Ministry press room. So if the Minister were to find the Press Room empty...'

'Oh,' said Harry, understanding. 'Has that ever happened before?'

'The last time the Counsel sat in secret was when Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban two years ago. That Counsel was dissolved after it was realised that Sirius Black didn't pose any threat to society at large, rather than a few individuals. We think he's probably dead now, anyway.'

'Oh,' said Harry, trying to look surprised. 'Probably.'

'Well, I have to brief you and give you a tour of the Ministry,' said Karen. 'Which do you want first?'

'Um, the tour, I think,' said Harry.

'Well, we'll begin here, shall we?' asked Karen, opening a panelled door into a large, cool office, with about five desks inside. 'This is the Counsel Office. That's your desk there- you can hang you cloak on the coat stand- the temperature within Ministry HQ is always a 36⁰, just the right temperature for robes.

'You'll be sharing this office with Mildred Greymalkin, Jorg Schilthorn and Melissa Muddy-Duck.

'Now,' said Karen. Clapping her hands together. 'I'll show you the Counsel Chambers!'