Bode took a pinch of Floo powder from a small box on the mantelpiece, and threw it into the flames. They turned into a vivid, emerald green colour. He stepped into the fireplace, a slightly tattered suitcase in tow, and said, “The Atrium, Ministry of Magic!”
Bode spun with great force, happening to catch a few glimpses of wizarding homes that were part of the Floo Network. He stepped out of the grate and straightened up when he had stopped spinning.
Sure enough, he was in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He walked towards the lifts that were behind the golden gates along with a few other Ministry employees, unmindful of the routine sights of the ceiling with strange symbols and the Fountain of Magical Brethren. He walked close to the watchwizard’s desk and said, “Hello, Eric,” in a strange, sepulchral voice.
“Evening, Broderick,” replied Munch, the haggard-looking and unshaven man. Munch was engrossed in the latest Daily Prophet. He looked up for a brief moment when he returned Bode’s greeting, and then returned to his newspaper.
Bode walked to the lifts and pressed the ‘down’ button of the one that was nearest to him. The lift descended down in a few minutes, making a great clanking and banging noise. Bode wished that the lifts would be more silent.
As Bode stepped into the lift, a tall, black wizard stepped out of it. A tall woman with flecks of grey in her long black hair stepped into the lift. Bode pressed the number nine button, and noticed that the witch was a member of the Wizengamot: there was an artistic silver W on her plum-coloured robes. He wondered why the Wizengamot was functioning in the evening.
In a matter of seconds, the lift had descended down to Level Nine, with the female voice making the announcement, “Department of Mysteries”. The doors opened, and the two people stepped out of the lift. Bode walked past the bare walls towards the plain black door, which was the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. The witch descended a flight of stairs after turning left.
The door opened on its own as Bode came near. He stepped into the familiar, large circular room, which had twelve doors on all sides of it. Blue candles burned in their holders in between the doors.
Bode closed the door through which he had entered. At once, the doors began to revolve fast, along with the wall. Nothing happened to the jet-black floor. A newcomer would have been amazed (and scared) by this, but Bode knew the reason behind it. The Department of Mysteries was almost like another dimension in itself. This arrangement was necessary, for a few artefacts and structures here were impossible to manipulate in any way. Like the one Bode was researching along with a few colleagues and superiors … “The Archway of the Underworld”. The name was obviously coined by an Unspeakable with great imagination, but there appeared to be a grain of truth behind it.
“Death Chamber,” said Bode. The appropriate door opened at once. Bode entered the room and closed the black door behind him. There was one other person present in the room: Jacobus Fletcher, Senior Unspeakable, Assistant to the Head Unspeakable. He was a tall old man with closely cropped iron-grey hair. His green robes fluttered slightly as he turned towards Bode. His wizened hands were clutching a long roll of parchment and a quill.
“Hello, Bode,” said Fletcher. “I see no one else has remained today. Perhaps they’ve got bored of research. Unspeakables shouldn’t be that way!”
Perhaps Fletcher has not realised that it is late in the evening now, thought Bode.
Fletcher was Bode’s superior. “Hello, Mr Fletcher,” said Bode, “Have you found out anything new about the Archway?”
“Maybe the only way to find out the truth is to walk through the veil,” said Fletcher, pointing at the tattered, grey veil that concealed what was behind the archway. Many Unspeakables had speculated (among themselves) that it could be another dimension beyond it. Only people who had seen death could hear the voices that seemed to beckon them to walk through the veil. The present Unspeakables suspected that this led to the mythological-like name “The Archway of the Underworld”.
“Mr Fletcher, are you serious?” asked Bode. “If you walk through the veil, you will die!”
“I was just joking, Bode,” said Fletcher. “I think you should show me your research notes …”
Bode took out a folded piece of parchment along with a quill. He handed over the parchment to Fletcher. It had notes on the history of the Archway, and observations about the voices that he had heard. Thankfully, Unspeakables had been thoroughly trained to control their urges when doing dangerous research. No one had died so far by walking through the Archway.
He took out a spare piece of parchment to take more notes as he discussed more about the veil with Fletcher. They were discussing about it in soft voices, occasionally climbing the dais to take a closer look and make more observations about the voices.
About an hour had passed this way, when Bode thought he heard the door open and close. He turned, and saw nothing suspicious. The door was closed.
“Something wrong, Bode?” asked Fletcher. Bode shook his head. He continued to talk to Fletcher about the veil. They exchanged theories for ten minutes. Bode ran out of parchment. He raised his wand to conjure another roll of parchment, when he heard footsteps behind him. He spun around and demanded, “Who’s there?”
No one answered.
“Something wrong, Bode?” asked Fletcher again. There was concern in his voice. Bode remained alert for a minute. Assuming that the voices were coming from beyond the veil, he conjured a piece of parchment, and continued to take notes.
All of a sudden, heard a voice behind him whisper, “Imperio.”
Instantly, his mind went blank. He felt blissful. A seemingly authoritative voice echoed inside his head.
Make up an excuse … tell him you want to go to the bathroom …
Bode could see no reason not to obey. He excused himself and went to the large, circular room. As soon as the door closed behind him, the chamber begun to revolve fast. He did not know that someone else had slipped out of the room before he had closed the door.
Go to the Hall of Prophecy… to the Hall of Prophecy…
“The Hall of Prophecy,” whispered Bode, as the revolutions stopped. One of the twelve plain black doors opened of its own accord. Bode walked towards it. He could hear the voice in his head give another instruction:
Go to row number ninety-seven … to row number ninety-seven …
Why? Spoke up another voice in his head. Why should I obey you, what do you want?
Bode was finally trying to resist the Imperius curse, although he was not aware that someone had cast it upon him in the first place.
Do it NOW!
Whatever little resistance Bode had faded away in an instant, so great was the power of the voice.
Light your wand, and begin the search.
Bode obeyed without question. He walked quietly, deep into the heart of the Hall of Prophecy. After many minutes, he had reached row number ninety-seven.
Look for the prophecy involving the Dark Lord and Harry Potter … look for the prophecy involving the Dark Lord and Harry Potter “
“Who is it?” asked another voice. Bode turned, only to see a man that he recognised instantly. He was an old man who had long hair that descended up to his lower back. He wore a pince-nez, which was placed awkwardly upon his sharp nose. His name was Alfred Cole, the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy.
“Oh, it’s you, Bode,” said Cole. Even though his lined face showed relief, a hint of suspicion remained in his keen grey eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Tell him that you are here on your superior’s orders; that you must have a look at a few prophecies …
“I am here on Mr Fletcher’s orders, Mr Cole. I must have a look at a few prophecies on his behalf,” said Bode.
Cole raised his eyebrows. “I do not know why Mr Fletcher wants to look at a few prophecies, Bode. I am sorry, but you should know very well that neither you nor I are permitted to take them out from their designated shelves. Nevertheless, I will allow you to look at them, since you are under your superior’s orders,” he still looked suspicious as he walked towards his desk. The commanding voice spoke up in Bode’s head again:
Look for the prophecy involving the Dark Lord and Harry Potter … look for the prophecy involving the Dark Lord and Harry Potter…
Bode raised his wand and proceeded to obey the command. He searched along the row, looking at the writing below each seemingly identical glass ball. A few of the glass balls glowed in an ethereal way, but Bode did not pay attention to them. At last, he found the prophecy he was ordered to look for.
Take it from the shelf now!
Bode reached out his left hand cautiously, and his fingers closed around the glass ball.
Instantaneously, a sharp, unbearable pain was spreading from his left hand all along his arm. He let out a yell of horror, and attempted to remove his hand. He could not do so. Once the terrible sensation of pain reached his brain, he seemed to see a bright flash of blue light. He fell to the ground, and the curse broke. It had lifted when Bode touched the prophecy.
For a moment, he thought that Cole was calling his name. However, before Bode could do anything else, he fell unconscious.