I solemnly entered the staff break room to collect my scattered belongings after another difficult day of work at the Department of Mysteries. I sighed, resigning myself to clear my thoughts for a minute. It had been another trying day of having to prove myself to my fellow Unspeakables. Another day of tolerating whispers they thought I could not hear: ‘that’s Charles’ daughter,’ and ‘hope she’s half as good as he was.’ Unknowingly, they were driving me on, pushing me to be better than he was, just so I would not have to be “Charles’ daughter” anymore. At first, I had relished the attention. I had cherished every compliment regarding my father. However, after four years, I was fed up with not being Jemina Doyle.

I took off the outer blue protective robe, and threw it onto one of the hooks lined up against the wall. I decided that a cup of tea would help me relax. After pouring in some honey and milk, I leaned back against the counter with a sigh. I had nothing to do but wait until James got off in an hour.

My quiet peace was interrupted when Darlene, one of the most sarcastic people I have ever met, walked in with a big smile plastered on her face, and poured herself a cup of tea. I noticed she wore a self-satisfied expression. “We just had a huge breakthrough in the time room,” she announced with a smug smile. “Want to grab dinner?” she added.

Ignoring her question altogether, I began pressing her for information on the project in the time room. She offered bits and pieces, but not enough to give me a clear picture of this so-called breakthrough. I grew frustrated very quickly with her aloof attitude. I was confused as to why she would not tell me about the project. I worked closely with her unit, and offered advice on their research. So I was a bit miffed that she was not willing to equally share.

However, I could not press her any further because a memo swooped in, and started attacking my head. I snatched it from mid-air to find a note from James, my boyfriend of four years. We had been together since our seventh year.

Jem,

There was a raid on Gringott’s. Harrison is making all the aurors stay late for this one. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if the thief hadn’t gotten away, but he did. Now it’s my entire division’s job to shut him down before he decides to strike again… Whoopee for me.

I can’t make our date this evening, but I really want to reschedule. Don’t these foolish criminals realise they screw up important dinner plans?

Don’t wait up,
James

I smiled slyly, admiring his witty humour and good spirit, once again. His only fault was thinking ten steps ahead, and forgetting about the first step. We have been living together for two years, and I am still waiting for him to propose. Even though, at the time we moved in together, I had a feeling it was not going to happen for a long time. Sometimes, I worry about his career choice due to this one fault, but he is always lying next to me the next morning when I wake up.

“What does it say?” Darlene asked tentatively.

“I can go to dinner with you after all, Darlene,” I told her. Choosing to not answer her question directly, letting her ponder the actual contents of my note. She slightly smiled as her eyes flashed in thought.

“How about the Leaky Cauldron?” she provided, apparently accepting my dinner offer.

“I know a muggle place not far from here, that is, if you want to go there…” I offered as well.

“What type of food do they serve?” she asked. I grinned and took her hand, pulling her into the ladies restroom.

“Well, if we go, you’ll need to look like a muggle,” I answered tauntingly.

She smiled, and quickly transfigured her clothes into pinstriped suit for women. I, however, changed into more comfortable clothes: a pair of jeans, a ringer tee shirt, and purple vintage 2004 Chuck Taylor’s. Unlike most in the magical community, I had a fetish for muggles. I preferred to eat at muggle restaurants, and wear muggle clothing. When Darlene saw what I was wearing, she dressed down a bit. She changed into an informal brown skirt, a peasant blouse, and loafers. I was rather impressed. For someone who so rarely wore muggle clothes, Darlene had good taste.

After we were done, we quickly made our way outside. Once we left the Ministry of Magic, I grasped her hand, pulling her along in a side apparition. I let go of her hand when the familiar squeezing sensation stopped. I opened my eyes to take in the scene of The China House, my favourite muggle restaurant. I pulled Darlene into the busy atmosphere and led us to my usual table, near the kitchen

“Will you order for me?” she asked innocently, looking slightly perplexed by the menu. I nodded and asked if she preferred sweet or spicy food. Apparently, Darlene had a taste spicy food. When the waitress came by our table, I ordered a plate of spicy chicken for her, and chow mien for myself. The waitress took our order, and left us to make small talk.

However, this was easier said than done. Even though, Darlene and I had been co-workers for three and a half years, we had relatively few things in common. Other than the projects we did at work, and even then, we did not usually work together in projects at the Department of Mysteries. We had nothing to make small talk about. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, and searching for a topic of discussion, I finally settled for asking her about the breakthrough she had mentioned earlier.

Her bright green eyes lit up as she began to describe her team’s success. They had discovered how to produce a mirror that enabled the viewer to look back hundreds of years in time. I was startled by this discovery. No one had ever had access that far back in time, other than the distorted memories stored in pensieves, which had their own set of limits. They had not been invented until a previous Unspeakable had utilized the powers of thoughts, and figured out how to store them.

Soon conversation between Darlene and me moved past the recent discovery in the time room. The forty-five year old woman smiled as she gave me a detailed account of her years at the ministry, and the advances she had contributed to. “I knew your father you know,” she told me sympathetically as the food arrived.

I was not very surprised at this fact. Everyone who worked there seemed to know my father at one point or another. They either worked with him on a project, or he had helped them with a problem. I had grown tired of the stories. Actually, I rather liked hearing them, but it became rather annoying by the end of my third day on the job.

“I was an intern,” she began, “I started about two months before your father disappeared.” That bit of information interested me. Even though, I knew he had worked for the locked room division, no one had ever offered any information about what happened on the day he did not come home from work.

“I actually worked with him. I was his aide…” she trailed off. “Do you want to hear about it?” Darlene asked me warily. I nodded eagerly and she began her story.

“I joined the Department of Mysteries straight out of Hogwarts. I was at the top of my class, and had a need to prove myself. He offered to take me as his aide, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. He was a bit temperamental, but he made up for it by being passionate and kind to his fellow Unspeakables. I remember everyone whispering about how intense his research was, and how consumed by his work he had become. He would work from six in the morning to well past eleven at night, and barely ate anything,” she shook her head at the memory.

“He used to sit by the black veil for hours, as though it were talking to him. Personally, I believe it was. Sometimes, he would talk to it. Other times, he would just stand there with his left ear tilted toward it, straining to hear it. I remember because I had to sit next to him and watch. He never told me exactly what he was doing, but one day he abruptly stopped going to the veil. Instead, he went to where they experimented with potions, and started examining the mixture that preserved the brains. It was a terribly complex potion, but your father was a genius, and had unravelled its secrets by the second day,” she said proudly.

“However, he refused to tell me what it was he was doing, to my disappointment,” she added sadly.

“On March 29, 2054 he announced his discoveries about the locked room in the Department of Mysteries. He claimed that all there was left to do was to go into the room itself. We had sent in patronuses for ages, but had never experienced it for ourselves. He even offered to do it himself! That was the first, and only time, he was laughed at for his opinion and research. Many Unspeakables thought that it was impossible to survive the return trip from the locked room,” Darlene explained.

“About two hundred years ago, the door used to be unlocked and accessible to everyone. However, most Unspeakables had feared it at the time, and no one dared open it. Only one Unspeakable went in and he never came back out. When he did not return, the other Unspeakables hid the key, and no one has seen it since.

“Speculation has been made about the room and its key, but the most common theory is that it is similar to Pandora’s Box,” she said after taking a long drink of water.

“Unspeakables know pure love is contained within that room. A love, so wonderful, it could steal your heart. Yet, nobody knows what other secrets the locked room contains. We do know what is used to hold the love in the locked room. Merlin himself wrote down what he did to protect it, and concentrate it in a fixed spot. He locked it in the room using time. Time never changes in that room.”

“I remember he didn’t go home from work until the evening after his announcement. He was working on some invention needed for his research. A telescope that could be used to study and observe love he had informed me. I stayed with him that night to make sure he didn’t do anything rash, as well as the following day. Even though, he told me to go home several times, I stayed. He finished his invention on the evening of the thirtieth and went home at around five thirty.”

“The next day he worked like he usually did on any other day. I went home at five in the afternoon, satisfied that his irrational behaviour had disappeared. I had a date to prepare for, and my mind was preoccupied with my upcoming date. I was so foolish,” she muttered.

“The next morning, the Department of Mysteries was in a tumultuous uproar, C.C. Doyle had gone into the locked room. Another Unspeakable Carter, who had also been working late, went to find him to ask a question. He discovered your father walking into the locked room at nine-thirty that evening: a coppery telescope, and wand under one arm; and a journal, several quills, and multiple inkwells in the other. We all wanted to get him back, but we were too scared to go in after him,” she said between a bit of spicy chicken.

“So what happened to him?” I asked in a shocked manner. I had never heard this story about my father before and was truly enraptured by the tale.

“For all we know, he could still be in there, and doesn’t want to come out. We’ve been speculating on it for the past two decades. It’s why we told your family he was deceased,” she finished with a sad smile.

She did not say anything else. Instead, she left me to my thoughts. All of a sudden, being compared to my father did not bother me so much anymore.
Years later, I would recall that night as the point in my life when my passion to go through the locked door began.