A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 654 The Controlled Person

"Could Charles be doing *that* in his office?"

Harry was getting older and started to overthink things, sometimes thinking Charles wouldn't do it, and other times believing Charles had no reason not to.

He quickly patted his face, banished the distracting thoughts, and continued working.

Harry stopped at a crossroads of corridors not far away, took out another small glass bottle from his tool bag, and, referring to the parchment drawings, searched for an inconspicuous round hole on the wall with blurred engravings. This was the installation slot prepared in the early stages of the work.

Just as he stood on tiptoe, preparing to insert the bottle into the round hole, he caught a glimpse of a figure walking past in the side corridor.

The person's hair stood stubbornly atop their head like a tangled pile of uncombed straw, conspicuous under the steady magical light of the corridor, casting a messy, shifting shadow on the wall.

Harry adjusted his glasses, recognizing the signature messy hair. It belonged to Stoddill Bordmore, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He had met him at number 12 Grimmauld Place during the summer and exchanged a few words with him.

“Mr. Podmore?” he almost blurted out, but the words were abruptly cut off before they reached his throat.

Harry sensed something was wrong with Podmore's expression. It wasn't his usual self; it was an almost blank calm. His eyes were staring blankly ahead, and his steps were even and mechanical, like a sleepwalker.

This look...

Harry's heart sank to the bottom.

Last year, in a memorable Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Mad-Eye Moody demonstrated to them that those afflicted with the Imperius Curse are in this dazed state, stripped of their will, like sleepwalkers, or rather, manipulated puppets.

But Harry wasn't sure of his judgment. He wondered if he could be sure, what if the man was just extremely tired, or troubled by something heavy on his mind?
A few days ago, many students who failed their monthly exams were in the same situation.

Harry's mind raced as he tried to find a plausible explanation.

But today is the weekend, and apart from a very few staff members on duty and those with special permits from Farbatton Castle, the Ministry of Magic is almost deserted.

Harry took out the blueprints and discovered that the corridor led to a dead end with unused offices on both sides. So why would Podmore go there, and with such a strange expression?

One question after another flashed through my mind like lightning, pointing to an extremely unsettling conclusion.

Harry's breathing quickened involuntarily as a bold idea popped into his head.

"Don't alert him, follow him."

Harry made a decision instantly.

He quickly inserted the glass bottle into the round hole in the wall and felt a faint magical fluctuation ripple outwards, indicating that the installation had taken effect.

Immediately, he darted like a shadow behind a thick stone pillar, his back pressed against the cold, rough stone surface.

He held his breath, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

I've done things like stalking before, but stalking someone in the Ministry of Magic is a bit more exciting.

"I should have brought an invisibility cloak."

He had some regrets.

Harry watched as Podmor walked without pause or hesitation, turning directly into a darker, more secluded passage, his figure quickly swallowed by the shadows. He crouched low, following silently like Crookshanks in stealth.

Harry made full use of the corridor pillars and hanging curtains as cover, each step landing as light as a feather, his toes touching the ground first, then slowly pressing down with his heels, even controlling the rustling sound of his clothes to a minimum.

His gaze was fixed on the mechanically moving figure in front of him, not daring to relax for a moment.

Podmore’s familiarity with this hidden path is alarming.

He led Harry around a storage room filled with discarded tables and chairs, reeking of rotten wood and dust, and pushed open an inconspicuous little door hidden behind a faded tapestry.

The door hinges made a faint but grating creaking sound, making Harry feel that it might fall over at any moment.

Behind the door was a narrow, almost forgotten spiral staircase, the air thick with an unbearable smell of dust. The steps were covered with a thick layer of dust, like a gray velvet carpet, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling like tattered veils, occasionally sticking to Harry's cuffs as he hurried past.

Harry carefully followed Podmore's fresh footprints as he made his way down from the fourth floor.

Podmor's footsteps were amplified infinitely in the enclosed spiral space, each step like a hammer blow to his taut nerves, each echo making his heart pound with fear that an Auror would jump out and take him to Azkaban.

The Ministry of Magic has been established for hundreds of years and has an extremely complex internal structure, like a huge, living labyrinth, filled with many ancient and even abandoned passages and rooms.

Podmore was clearly very familiar with this place, skillfully navigating these forgotten corners and perfectly avoiding the Fire Dragon Guard staff who were busy installing glass bottles on other floors.

The surrounding lights grew dimmer and dimmer, gradually transitioning from bright incandescent bulbs to flickering candlelight maintained by magic.

The environment grew quieter and quieter until finally, all was silent. They stopped in front of a heavy, simple black door—the Department of Mysteries.

Harry's heart started beating even faster.

He had heard Black talk about this place; it was the most central and mysterious restricted area of ​​the Ministry of Magic, mainly responsible for various important and secret magical matters, and its duties were highly confidential.

Harry felt as if the air itself had become several times heavier, carrying an invisible pressure. He instinctively drew his wand, as if that would make him feel safer.

What is Podmor coming here for? Is it a requirement of the Imperius Curse? Who ordered him to come?

Countless questions lingered in his mind, making his temples throb.

Without the slightest hesitation, Podmore pushed open the black door, stepped over the threshold, and walked straight into the depths of the Department of Mysteries.

Harry followed him inside and saw that behind the door was a huge circular room. Everything in the room was black. There were twelve identical black doors, without any markings or handles, set apart from each other. The walls were decorated with candles that emitted blue flames.

Bodmore paused before the many doors, as if deciding which one to open.

Harry hid in the shadows beside the door, holding his breath and concealing himself.

"Stop! Who is it?!"

Suddenly, a sharp shout, like a thunderclap, shattered the suffocating silence of the place.

(End of this chapter)