The footsteps echoed loudly in the empty corridor. The light from her wand was the only source and could only illuminate so much of the darkness. Her eyes remained on the door in front of her; her only goal was to reach it. Suddenly, an eerie breeze blew past her leg.

Hermione Granger whipped around, her breathing instantly elevated by the sudden movement. She raised her wand higher, trying to see more of the darkened corridor, but she couldn’t find anything. She turned around slowly in a circle, trying to assure herself there was nothing there. After a painful two minutes of uncertainty, Hermione finally lowered her wand, and allowed her breathing to return to normal. She had never been at the Ministry this late before.

She finally reached the door at the end of the corridor and extended her hand to touch it. She brushed the wood slowly, groping for the handle. Once she had grasped it, she turned the handle and stepped inside. She shut the door quietly behind her, and prepared herself for what was about to happen.

The room began to spin at once. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to stand as still as possible; she didn’t realize how hard it was to keep her balance without someone else to hold on to. It seemed like hours, but it was only about thirty seconds before the room finally stopped spinning. Hermione opened her eyes again and blinked in the soft light that illuminated the room.

She walked slowly around the circular room, trying to decide which of the doors would be the right one. She found the one that was locked and walked two doors to the right. Hermione found the handle and turned it, entering slowly, her wand held tightly in her shaking hand.

The door creaked open and Hermione scurried inside. At once, the door closed behind her and Hermione felt herself drenched in darkness. She waited a moment, her breath growing louder with each passing moment. The lights were supposed to be coming on any second now.

They never came.

As the seconds passed to minutes, Hermione felt all hope leave her. The darkness hadn’t let up at all. Panic began to overtake her as her heart raced. This was wrong. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…

Hermione felt paralyzed, like the part of her brain that controlled movement had been turned off, followed by the part that controlled logic. She couldn’t think; her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she feared it could be heard through the walls. She was either too late…

Or something had gone horribly wrong.

Hermione pulled out her wand and tried to light it, but the words just wouldn’t come. She was about to try again when a faint whine in the corner caught her attention. Hermione almost dropped her wand in shock.

No one was supposed to be in here.

She walked over slowly, not wanting anything to jump out and surprise her. The whining noise persisted and turned into more of a whimper. Hermione whispered “Lumos!� and her wand instantly lighted. She held it high above her head, not wanting to be walking around alone in the dark. She neared the source of the noise and jumped back in shock.

“What are you dong here!�

Ron Weasley’s face came into view, peering out of the shadows. He was injured gravely. “Never mind that now,� he said softly. “Leave me here. You have to find him – go!�

Hermione bit her lip and crouched down next to her injured friend. “I don’t want to leave you,� she whispered.

Ron shook his head. “I’ll be all right.�

Hermione gave him one last look and then wrapped her arms around him. “We’ll win this, Ron. We’re going to win.� She slowly stood up and scampered from the room.

She entered the room with the doors again and quickly burned a cross on the one that led to the room she had just left. She then allowed it to shut behind her and the room at once began to spin. Hermione closed her eyes and waited for it to stop spinning. Once it had, she opened her eyes and looked around.

She didn’t know what to do. In the room she was supposed to be in, something had gone horribly wrong. She saw the cross burning on the door to her left. Hermione bit her lip. Death Eaters were still somewhere in the Department of Mysteries.

But…where? Which room should she try next?

Hermione wondered if she should try the door to the right of the one she had tried, three to the right from the locked door. If the Death Eaters had already been to the one she had just left, perhaps they had gotten into the next door. Hermione walked slowly towards it and pushed it open.

The scenery was unlike that Hermione had ever seen. There were lots of strange decorations hanging from the ceiling, what looked like benches and chairs and tables…The design of the ceiling was very interesting too: a creamy marble colour. Hermione wondered why so much effort had been put into the ceiling when the floor she was walking on was plain white.

And then it hit her.

She was walking on the ceiling.

Panic threatened to overtake her again, and Hermione had trouble calming herself down. She was afraid to take another step: she didn’t want to fall. She felt so vulnerable standing up on the ceiling, even though she had felt fine when she thought she was still standing on the floor.

It’s all in your head, she tried to tell herself. It’s just all in your head.

But then she saw something that made her panic even more. The door was on the ground. Somehow she was going to have to leave the room as though she were walking on the floor instead of on the ceiling. Hermione didn’t know what to do. Maybe she could just close her eyes and take a step…?

Hermione moved her right foot, and felt a falling sensation that made her scream in panic. A moment later, however, she realized that the sensation had been imagined, and that she was still walking on the ceiling. Slightly more encouraged, she picked up her left foot and took another step forward. She continued taking baby steps all the way. When she reached the centre of the ceiling, she suddenly found herself right-side up again. She wasn’t really sure how it had happened; she hadn’t felt anything at all. Hermione took a few moments to catch her breath, and then she quickly ran to the door on the other side of the room.

Hermione entered the next room with trepidation. She held her wand out in front of her like a sword and peered about into the darkness. She tried to illuminate her wand, but it wouldn’t work. Slightly nervous, Hermione took her other hand off of the door to examine her wand more closely. The second she removed her hand, the door slammed shut. She panicked for a split second, thinking she would be trapped in the darkness, but then light suddenly flooded the room.

She looked around the room: all she could see were walls. Her eyes widened; she had never seen anything like it. Hermione whipped around to see if the door was still there. It wasn’t. Hermione almost screamed, but her voice died in her throat.

There were no doors in the room.

Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes. Everything was going all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be in this room. Ron wasn’t supposed to be here either. Now she was trapped.

“What else could go wrong?� she heard herself scream.

The walls began to move. Hermione felt panic threaten to overtake her again, and she tried to pull herself together.

Come on, she urged herself. Come on, think!

But nothing came to her. She couldn’t think. She was falling…falling…

Hermione awoke with a jolt. She gasped and looked around at her surroundings as she realized that she was back in her room, safe in bed. She breathed in deeply, allowing her heart rate to return to normal. She sighed and slumped back against her pillows.

I hate nightmares.