"Are you sure you want to do this, Arthur?" an elderly witch asked skeptically.
"Yes, Kaelah" Arthur replied, "I'm sure."
The elevator clanked merrily and office memos fluttered quietly on the ceiling as Kaelah McCreed, the Ministries Keeper of the Keys, and Arthur Weasley slowly descended into the lower levels of the Ministry. Arthur had been riding this elevator nearly every day for over two decades, but today he felt like a stranger. Today a suffocating hand of foreboding clutched at his throat, his better judgment scolding him menacingly.
Today, Arthur was venturing into the Department of Mysteries.
The doors slid open soundlessly, and Kaelah ushered Arthur forward with an encouraging smile. He followed her slowly with measured steps, past the old courtrooms and into a narrow hallway. His stomach flipped uncomfortably as he passed the spot he'd been attacked four years earlier, the image of the slithering serpent with jagged fangs still fresh in his mind.
Kaelah led Arthur through a series of doors, magically creating and vanishing a special key for each as they continued on. After making a few dizzying turns though the confined hallways, Arthur found himself in a tiny room with black walls. Standing alone in the corner was a man he had, surprisingly, never seen before. An Unspeakable, he thought to himself, sizing the man up.
"Mr. Deogol, this is Arthur Weasley. I'll leave him to you now," Kaelah said in a polite, business-like tone.
Deogol didn't respond.
Kaelah turned to Arthur, her lips pressed into a thin line, worry etched in her kind, wizened face. "Shall I wait here for you?" she asked searchingly.
"No. But thank you," Arthur smiled kindly. "Who knows how long this might take. I'll send you a memo when I'm ready for the doors to be unlocked, shall I?" Kaelah nodded in response, squeezing Arthur's shoulder gently before departing, closing the solid black door behind her with a snap.
After watching Kaelah depart, Arthur slowly turned to face his new companion with some trepidation. So little was known about the Unspeakables, their lives clouded in mystery. Mr. Deogol was on the shorter side, his raven black hair slicked back neatly. His face was blank, expressionless, as though he were completely void of emotion or feeling.
Taking a step forward, Arthur extended his hand warmly, saying, "How do you do, Mr. Deogol?" As he had done with Kaelah, Deogol neither moved nor responded.
Arthur dropped his hand slowly, frowning slightly and looking Deogol straight in the eye. In response he received a piercing glare, as though Mr. Deogol could see straight into his soul. For many minutes they stood, staring, each examining the other. Arthur dared not move, somehow suspecting that his resolve was being tested. Suddenly Deogol turned around, his hands folded behind his back.
“Follow me, Mr. Weasley,” he said drolly, walking through a door Arthur had not previously seen. On the other side, Arthur found himself in a black circular room illuminated with blue candlelight. As he shut the door behind him they were plunged into darkness. Arthur’s heart leapt to his throat. Slowly his eyes began to adjust, Deogol’s emotionless face illuminated in the pale blue light.
Without warning, the room began to spin, blurring Arthur’s vision and threatening to send him into a bought of nausea. Deogol watched Arthur with interest, as if he was rather amused by his green complexion. When the spinning finally slowed, Deogol walked with purpose across the room, coming to a halt before a door that looked quite like all the others. Arthur followed, looking at Deogol questioningly.
"This is it, then?" he asked, amazed that their journey had been so short.
"This is it," Deogol said simply, his hands once again folded behind his back. Arthur gazed at the door, his heart pounding ridiculously in his chest. "There is still time to turn back," Deogol spoke softly, his words touched with a hint of understanding.
"I have to do this," Arthur replied, his voice firm. "I want to do this."
"Very well," Deogol said, unclasping his folded hands and moving steadily closer to the door. He stopped mere inches away and turned, an air of professionalism exuding from his presence. “There is a reason this door is kept locked, Mr. Weasley. The magical force you will experience beyond this room will be greater than anything you’ve ever encountered, I guarantee you that.”
Arthur nodded in understanding, breathing deeply to settle his raging heartbeat. Deogol cocked one of his eyebrows, gazing intently at Arthur’s face. “You don’t look surprised, Mr. Weasley. Most people underestimate the magical power of love, but apparently not you.”
“I’ve seen the outcome of love,” Arthur said with a wry grin, “I dare not question its power.”
Deogol smiled, the first bit of emotion he’d expressed since Arthur had arrived. “Wise beyond your years,” he whispered quietly. “Indeed, there is no force greater on this earth than love. Very few things in this world have the ability to create both happiness and fear at the same time. Oh yes, the opposite of love is fear, and you will likely experience a heavy dose of it upon entering The Hall. Every act, thought, or idea inspired by love leaves a magical imprint. The powerful magic behind love intrigues us all. It is truly a mystery, hence why this Hall came into being. Beyond this door, every memory of love, whether beautiful or terrifying, lay in wait to be explored.”
Silence fell between the two men, Arthur desperately trying to reclaim his waning bravery while Deogol observed him with benign interest. “Tell me what I need to do,” Arthur finally spoke.
Deogol sighed softly, as though he’d been hoping Arthur would change his mind. “This will likely be a truly dreadful experience for you, I cannot deny that. Very few Unspeakables return to The Hall after their first encounter, and they have been well trained for such things.
“The Hall is mentally and physically demanding. Once you are inside, words and spoken requests have no importance. Only your thoughts and wishes will be answered. Think of what you’d like to see, to explore, and it will come to you. Keep your mind focused on exactly what you are searching for and the imprints will come forth more clearly. You may search as long as you can physically hold out. The Hall will know when you are ready to leave. Once you find a memory that suits your purposes, you may store it in this." Deogol removed a small crimson box from his robes and offered it to Arthur.
"Do you know my purpose in being here?" Arthur asked before he could stop himself.
Deogol was quiet for a moment, examining Arthur’s face with interest. "I imagine nary a soul in the wizarding world doesn't have some inkling," Deogol replied. "We don't give this privilege to just anyone. But, you are here on behalf of those whom we all owe a great debt. The Ministry couldn’t possibly deny your request, knowing whom you seek to help. That being said, I guarantee the Ministry will be unlikely to extend this offer again. I suggest you make the most of it, hold on until you physically break."
Arthur looked to his feet and nodded his head in agreement. He had been shocked to learn his request to enter the Department of Mysteries was approved. He’d felt it was a long shot at best, and yet here he was, ready to step into the unknown. Every instinctive part of him was begging him to reconsider, but there was no turning back. This was their last hope. He had to try.
Deogol placed his hand on the door, his eyes closed in concentration. After a few minutes the door shuddered and rippled, like a stream of water. A hint of color began at the doors center, sweeping out in long-reaching circles until the entire surface was stained a brilliant blood red.
"Simply step through the door when you are ready,” Deogol instructed, folding his hands in an increasingly familiar pose and moving aside. “To leave The Hall, just wish it deep in your heart, and you will find yourself back here. I shall await your return. Good luck."
Arthur nodded and held his breath. He clutched the small box tightly in his fist as he slid forward. Raising his arms, he slowly pressed his hands against the door. They sunk through gradually, a thumping, pulsing sensation meeting his skin as he pushed further. With his eyes firmly closed, he cast himself forward, throwing his body into the abyss known only as The Hall of Love.