The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Chapter 373 Department of Mysteries

The corridor remained deserted. The Death Eaters had already left. Harry returned to the foyer where the elevator was located, pressing the "down" button repeatedly, his heart pounding. The wait felt incredibly long, and the clanging of the metal gates sliding open seemed designed specifically for the Death Eaters and Voldemort to hear.

Harry climbed into the elevator and stared at the row of buttons in front of him. Logically, since the top button was for the first floor, the bottom should be the ninth floor. But who knew? Harry had heard that wizards had some magic related to mathematics (Hermione had been trying to persuade him and Ron to take arithmetic divination next semester), so maybe the Ministry of Magic would skip certain cursed numbers, like Uncle Vernon's company skipped the thirteenth floor… Harry pressed every button without thinking.

The elevator swayed and lurched as it descended, from the first floor to the second, from the second to the third… Doors opened and closed, with wizards and witches constantly going in and out. On the fifth floor, Mr. Weasley entered, his brow furrowed, deep in thought. Just as Harry was about to lift his Invisibility Cloak to warn him, the elevator dipped further, and two more wizards entered, arguing heatedly.

"What do you think, Arthur? This guy is simply unreasonable..."

"What? Oh, hello, Eric—ouch, is this down? I need to find the minister!"

"Don't bother going up there, Arthur. The minister went to St. Mungo's to visit Scrimgeour. Just tell me first—"

"Really? That's strange. When I ran into Malfoy..." They reached the sixth floor, and Mr. Weasley hurriedly left, seemingly just trying to avoid the two of them.

The two wizards started arguing again, while the others in the elevator kept their distance, leaving Harry plenty of space. He stayed close to their legs until they and everyone else in the elevator had left the main hall and the car was empty again. As the gates closed, Harry could still hear them arguing about whether the standard pronunciation of the "Pizza Heat-Up Charm" should be revised to "have more of an Italian flavor" ("The Heat-Up Charm is your English invention! No Italian chef uses it to heat up pizza!").

The elevator continued downwards, downwards... Harry was filled with worry, hoping that Mr. Weasley would stop trying to go to the first floor to find Fudge... Suddenly, the elevator stopped.

"The Department of Mysterious Affairs," a cold female voice announced.

The door opened, and Harry stepped out into an empty corridor. There were no doors or windows on either side, only torches every few feet, casting flickering shadows on the rough stone walls. At the end of the corridor was a single, dark door. The torchlight shone through the Invisibility Cloak onto the floor—cold stone. Harry continued walking, unwilling to consider how clearly his footsteps echoed down the corridor. What if that Death Eater named August had already gone back? What if he and August had taken two different elevators? What if Voldemort had already gotten what he wanted…

Finally, he reached the door. Harry pushed it; the door was as cold as ice, but—to his surprise—it was as light as gauze. It opened silently almost the instant his hand touched it, revealing a room bathed in blue light.

He took a deep breath, stepped across the threshold, and looked up at his surroundings. It was a huge circular room, with candles burning with cold blue flames on the wall-mounted candlesticks. There were eleven tightly closed black doors on the black walls, each one looking exactly the same.

Just as Harry was pondering what he should do, one of the doors suddenly opened, and a wizard dressed in a black robe and wearing a hood quietly walked out.

Harry hid to the side, under the Invisibility Cloak, gripped his wand tightly, and held his breath.

In the dim blue candlelight, he couldn't make out whether the other person was the Death Eater. Fortunately, another wizard followed closely behind.

"Who forgot to close the door?" the second wizard asked in a low voice, looking in the direction Harry had come from. It was a witch with a soft voice; it certainly wasn't August.

“I don’t know,” the first person answered, a witch with a slightly hoarse voice. “But it doesn’t matter. Anyone who comes in through the door is not a thief; only those who climb in through the window will be cursed.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with those brains. This godforsaken place doesn’t even have windows. Come on, Sophia, let’s go out for some tea and get some fresh air… I warned you before, interdisciplinary research into prophecy and thought is particularly prone to problems. Remember Sivani…”

They were gone, and now all the doors were closed. Without the firelight in the hallway, the room suddenly went dark. Harry tried to walk towards the door they had come out of—the next second, with a rumble, the door slid to the side, and the wall began to spin. Harry was startled and immediately stopped, trying to focus on the door, but the wall spun faster and faster, and all he could see was a blue streak of light from the spinning candle.

Finally, the rumbling stopped, and the room fell silent again. Harry looked around. The same black doors were still there, but he couldn't tell which door the two witches had come from, or worse, he couldn't tell where he'd come from either.

In the silence, he walked to the nearest door and pushed it. The door opened a crack, and Harry cautiously peered through, seeing only a hazy, gray mist inside, within which some indistinct dark figures seemed to be moving. Could that be the person he was looking for? Harry pushed the door open a little wider. Suddenly, the mist churned, and the dark figures became as thick as ink, surging towards the doorway. Harry felt a chill run down his spine, quickly took a step back, and slammed the door shut.

With a click as the door closed, the wall began to spin again. Harry began to regret not having marked the door. It was then that he realized his fingers were still a little stiff from the cold. After the wall stopped, he didn't wait long and pushed open the black door in front of him.

The room was brightly lit with candlelight, countless candlesticks floating in mid-air, reminding Harry of the Hogwarts opening dinner. But here there were no long tables covered with clean tablecloths, no tempting food, and no silver plates. Everywhere he looked, there were floating candles; and among them, an empty path of white pebbles, suspended in the firelight, led to the end of Harry's vision, where something seemed to be.

Harry opened the door wider—good enough, the candles didn't pounce, and he didn't suddenly turn to ashes—but he still couldn't see what lay beyond. He blinked hard, wiping away tears brought on by the light, and took a step inside.

Nothing happened.

He took another step forward and discovered that the floorboards on both sides of the path were mirrors, reflecting the hundreds of candles in the room, making the path appear to float among them. Harry quickly took a few steps, no longer worried about falling. The shadow at the end of the path became clearer, seemingly a person wearing a black cloak. Harry held his breath and slowly approached—

Suddenly, something flew past him silently, but it gave Harry a strange feeling, like a giant bat had flown over his head. He whirled around. The Death Eater was standing in the doorway, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Who's there?" August asked in a low voice, staring straight inside through the open door. "A humanoid figure!"

Another unseen large bat flew by.

"Hmm..." August hesitated, glancing back into the room a few times. "Heart-crushing!"

Harry quickly dodged to the side, the spell slamming onto the white pebble path, but his hurried steps also kicked up a few pebbles, sending them rolling onto the mirror beside him.

August's eyes narrowed. "Oh dear, oh dear. Who's afraid to show their face? Who's sneaking around prying into something?" he murmured, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "Who's the little mouse hiding—forget everything!"

Harry lunged forward, dodging the flying spell, and crashed into a nearby candlestick. Like a stone thrown into a lake, the candlesticks throughout the room swayed slightly. The next moment, a rumbling sound came from outside, and Harry knew the room was spinning again.

"Heart-piercing and bone-splitting!" August shouted amidst the rumbling, "Heart-piercing and bone-splitting! Heart-piercing and bone-splitting!"

Harry frantically dodged, knocking over more candlesticks. The flame flickered, like a spiderweb that had caught its prey. "Think of something..." he told himself... "Think of something that can stall him..."

The sounds outside the door ceased. August held his wand to his chest, tilted his head, and listened intently to the clinking of the still-swaying candlestick.

“Come out,” he said softly. “You see, trespassing on the Ministry of Magic isn’t a good habit. You wouldn’t want an Auror coming, would you? I won’t do anything—just a Forgetfulness Charm—”

“You’re getting a little annoying.” Harry struggled to keep his breath down, mimicking Barrow’s hoarse voice. “Stop trying. You can’t see me. You can’t catch me. Nobody can catch a ghost…”

August's expression changed, but he still held up his wand: "A ghost? What are you doing here? I don't remember the Department of Mysteries having any ghosts."

“The Department of Mysteries has changed quite a bit since you were imprisoned in Azkaban, August.”

August's voice suddenly turned shrill: "Who are you?"

“A ghost that lingers in the past, a ghost that dwells in the present…” Harry tried to add a touch of mystery to his voice. He struggled to recall how a ghost should speak. Now was certainly not a good time to mention death anniversary parties or the Headless Hunter.

“What else do you know? What do you want?” August asked warily.

“I’m looking for a stone,” Harry said, noticing August’s breathing quicken slightly. “Like some people…” “You mean you want…” August stared intently at Harry’s location, “to pass out!”

A red light shot out, and Harry quickly jumped back, dodging the spell. But he knew something was wrong, because he felt the Invisibility Cloak gently brush against his shoes—his shoes had just been revealed. He looked up, and August's expression confirmed that he had also seen the old sneakers.

“Excellent, wonderful,” said August. “A ghost in shoes—the Crucifixion!”

Ignoring the risk of giving away his trail, Harry took off running deeper into the room… He remembered there were people there… The pebbles crunched under his feet, August hot on his heels. August was much taller than Harry, each stride a long distance, but Harry was adept at chasing and dodging—thanks to his cousin Dudley—and tried to run around the candle-reflecting mirrors, but they were too slippery. He found it impossible to run at full speed, not to mention the Death Eater trying to block his way (“Obstacles!”). So he finally decided to continue running along the pebbly path… He kept looking back to see if August was following, the firelight blinding him, and the scar on his head still throbbing…

Finally, he reached the end of the road. There was no one there, only a vertical, endless mirror. In the mirror was a boy in a black cloak, his hair disheveled, slightly out of breath, staring at Harry in astonishment with green eyes. August's狰狞 (zhengning - ferocious/hideous) face appeared not far away. Harry turned and shouted, "Petrify them all!"

"Armor protection."

With a clang, his spell was deflected by August and struck him squarely. Caught off guard, he fell backward to the ground, his arms pressed tightly against his sides, his wand falling to the floor. Fear gripped him instantly.

“A little ghost,” August said with a playful yet contemptuous tone. “A child.”

August stared at the mirror, fumbled around in front of him for a few moments, grabbed the Invisibility Cloak, and yanked it off.

“Oh,” he said with delight, his gaze lingering on Harry’s forehead. “Look what I’ve found! Isn’t this the famous Harry Potter?”

Harry rolled his eyes. "My wand," he thought, "my wand..."

“The Dark Lord will be pleased to see you,” August said with a broad smile, rolling up his sleeves. Harry noticed a gruesome skull tattoo on his left arm, a large snake emerging from its mouth. August lightly traced the snake's body with his index finger, then pressed down hard—Harry's forehead felt as if it had suddenly exploded.

He was still in the conference room, sitting in that nice chair, listening to the belated Death Eaters' various excuses for begging for his forgiveness. Then he felt the summons, and his impatience instantly turned to anger—could Lukewood not even handle this small matter properly, yet he wanted to summon him and use his power? Hadn't he already said that he could only summon him after Potter was captured?

“Lucius,” he said softly, and the Death Eaters who were weeping immediately fell silent. “You just said that all these years you have been painfully cooperating with these incompetent people at the Ministry of Magic, deceiving them, and finally making the Ministry of Magic more inclined to side with us than Dumbledore, and that they treat you as an honored guest…”

"Yes, Master. Including today..."

“Excellent. Your chance to prove yourself has come, Lucius. August seems to be in trouble. Go see what's wrong with him, and then bring back what I need.”

“August—August? But, the Department of Mysteries—Yes, Master, at your command.”

“You have a very good invisibility cloak, Potter. In fact, it might be the best I’ve ever seen.” August looked down at the invisibility cloak in his hand. “But the Mirror of Reality doesn’t reflect images, so the invisibility cloak has no effect on it… Good heavens, how much time and effort my colleagues and I spent on this mirror! Even now, I can’t help but want to show it off to anyone who sees it… It’s a pity we don’t have any more time…”

He extended his wand, tapped it at Harry, and whispered a spell. Harry felt something pull on his ankle, lifting him into the air. He felt blood rush to his head, and his lips went numb. August was controlling him as he floated away. Harry saw his holly wand lying alone on the ground and felt a surge of anxiety.

As they neared the door, August suddenly stopped and flicked his wand. Harry found his body no longer stiff; his arms drooped down with gravity, and his wizard's robes flipped down, obscuring his view. He quickly pushed them aside and stared at August.

“Wait, Potter, there’s something I need to understand first,” August said, looking at Harry who was slowly spinning in mid-air. “Where did you hear of me? And where did you learn about the Stone?”

Harry kept his mouth tightly shut and didn't say a word.

“Tell me!” August demanded. “Who told you all this?” He poked Harry’s throat with his wand, his facial muscles twitching. “Be smart, Harry Potter. Your life is in my hands now. Even if you don’t tell me now, when the Dark Lord comes, he’ll have plenty of ways to dig the secret out of your head.”

"Then why don't you wait for him to come?" Harry retorted. He said this only because he knew Voldemort wouldn't come, but then he realized that Lucius Malfoy was coming soon, and he couldn't think of any way to escape from two adult wizards.

To his surprise, upon hearing his question, August's staff tip trembled slightly, and a hint of fear flashed across his face.

Harry had no choice but to continue: "You don't know why I know you... Aha, you don't know where you went wrong! You're afraid you've revealed some other important information, and you know Voldemort won't be happy!"

"Shut up!" August roared, his wand jabbing Harry backward. "I can kill you!"

“Then what are you waiting for!” Harry said. “Are you going to eat like a well-trained dog, waiting for your master’s command?”

August's face contorted in rage. He trembled with fury and swung his wand so hard that Harry felt as if he had been chopped in the shoulder, and cried out in pain.

“You should be grateful—” August said through gritted teeth, waving his wand again. Another spell struck Harry's stomach, making all his internal organs seem to entangle and strangle each other. “If it weren’t for the Dark Lord saying he would personally end your life—” Another spell, and Harry was sent flying backward—

Then it swung back.

Seizing the opportunity, he lunged forward, grabbing August's greasy, sparse hair with one hand and pulling hard, while simultaneously slamming a punch into the Death Eater's eye. August cried out in surprise, shaking his head as he tried to break free of Harry. The Crucifixion Curse flew through the room, clanging against the candlesticks. In the chaos, August chanted a spell, and the weight on Harry's ankle vanished instantly. His body plummeted, his hands no longer able to grip August's head, and he crashed heavily to the ground. Ignoring the pain in his back, shoulders, and stomach, he scrambled to his feet, dodging August's furious barrage of curses, and ran desperately deeper into the room.

Finally, he retrieved his wand.

"Petrify! Grind! Stand still!" Harry tried the spells he knew, "Open Alohomora!"

"The Arahomon?" August squinted mockingly (his eyes were red and purple, brimming with tears). "Can't think of a spell, Potter?"

Harry ignored him. What was the spell Hermione used to capture the Cornish house-elf again? The Freezing Charm?

"Except your weapons!"

August's wand flew out of his hand, and he himself was knocked into the air and fell to the ground.

Harry looked up, a wave of relief washing over him. The door was open, and Sirius Black, his hair disheveled and face contorted with rage, held his wand high—unharmed. Beside him stood Professor Anthony, his expression serious, showing no other visible injury except for a slight limp.

Bang! The black door opposite them suddenly opened, and blue candle flames in the hall moved slowly, forming a giant letter "D" that hung behind the two of them.

August squinted, fumbling for his wand on the ground, his gaze never leaving the two newly arrived: "The Hall of Death? I thought they'd long since run out of budget to hire new people."

His response was a barrage of curses.

(End of this chapter)