Faye woke up at around half-past 6. Woke up was a generous word, more like she was dragged out of bed by Mrs.Weasley's non-stop reminders to get ready. At the foot of her bed sat one of her nicest day dresses. Mrs. Weasley had picked it out after she had done everyone's laundry the day before. She put it on and headed down the stairs, deciding to worry about her hair and teeth after breakfast.
As she entered the dining room she saw that Harry was also awake, half-dressed, and eating breakfast. Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and Tonks were also in the room talking to Harry.
As Faye sat down Mrs. Weasley set a plate of eggs and bacon with a side of toast in front of her.
"The hearing is on my floor in Amelia Bones' office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she's the one who'll be questioning you," said Mr. Weasley.
"Amelia Bones is okay, Harry," said Tonks earnestly. "She's fair, she'll hear you out."
Harry nodded, unable to say anything past the jumble of nerves in his stomach.
"Don't lose your temper," said Sirius abruptly. "Be polite and stick to the facts."
Harry nodded again.
"The law's on your side," said Lupin quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations"
Something very cold trickled down the back of Harry's neck; for a moment he thought someone was putting a Disillusionment charm on him again but realized it was just Mrs. Weasley attacking his hair with a wet comb.
"Doesn't it ever lie flat?" she said desperately.
"Trying to get Harry's hair to cooperate is like trying to convince the sun to set in the west and rise in the east," Faye said jokingly.
"You should talk," Harry teased back. "Did you even comb your hair this morning?"
"I was going to finish getting ready after breakfast."
"Well, go on then. You'll have to leave soon." Mrs. Weasley said shooing Faye from the dining room.
After quickly brushing her hair and teeth, she threw on a pair of ballet flats and descended the stairs. Harry and Mr. Weasley were waiting for her by the door.
"Right, you both ready?" asked Mr. Weasley. With a nod from both Harry and Faye, Mr. Weasley unbolted the door and they stepped out into the cold, gray dawn.
"You don't normally walk to work do you?" Harry asked him, as they set off briskly around the square.
"No, I usually Apparate," said Mr. Weasley. "But as you both are unable to and I think it's best we arrive in a non-magical fashion... and it makes a better impression, given what you are being disciplined for..."
Mr. Weasley kept his hands inside the jacket of his pin-striped suit and bomber hat. Harry knew it must be clenched around his wand. The rundown streets were almost deserted as the night that Faye arrived at Grimmauld Place, but when they arrived at the miserable little underground station they found it already full of early morning commuters.
As ever when he was close to muggles going about their daily business, Mr. Weasley was hard put to contain his excitement.
"Simply fabulous," he whispered, indicating the automatic ticket machines. "Simply ingenious, you muggles. I've always had an appreciation for your adaptability to life without magic." He said to Faye.
"They're out of order," said Faye with an amused smile. Mr. Weasley's enthusiasm seemed to be contagious.
"Yes, but even so..." said Mr. Weasley, beaming fondly at them.
They brought their tickets instead to a sleepy-looking guard (Harry handled the transaction, as Mr. Weasley was not good with money) and five minutes later the three of them were boarding the underground train that rattled them off towards the center of London. Mr. Weasley kept anxiously checking and rechecking the underground maps above the window. While this annoyed Harry, Faye found it cute, seeing Mr. Weasley act as if he was an excited child.
"Four stops, Harry.... Three stops left now... two more stops to go Faye..."
They got off at a station in the very heart of London, swept from the train in a tide of besuited men and women carrying briefcases. As commuters jostled Harry and Faye around, Harry grabbed hold of her hand to not lose her in the crowd. While this action was commonplace between the two of them. Faye's stomach fluttered at his touch.
As they went up the escalator and through the ticket barrier onto a broad street with imposing buildings, Faye thought of when his touch had started to cause such a reaction in her. She did not know when the switch happened, but she would never forget when she realized she was in love with her best friend.
It was over the summer before his fourth year. He had another growth spurt during the school year and had come back more handsome than the year before. She had started to become more awkward whenever he would grab her hand or hug her goodbye and after sitting by herself in her room, contemplating why she felt this way, she realized her feelings for him.
She could tell even before she found out about him being a wizard, that his home was Hogwarts. As much as he cared for Faye, she could tell he was never truly happy on Privet Drive. She had become bitter the first year he had gone off to the school and was jealous of all the new friends he made and the adventures they had together. She was afraid he would replace her and forget her.
But, he never stopped writing her. He always made sure to stay in contact. She was no longer jealous or bitter of him for finding the place where he truly fits in. He helped her through her grief over losing her mother and was her rock when she had to adjust to living in a foster care group home before she got adopted and a new school. She planned on returning the favor by doing everything in her power today to make sure he was able to return to Hogwarts, his home.
Stepping out onto the busy street Mr. Weasley looked around figuring out the way to the Ministry."This way you two."
The farther they walked, the smaller and less imposing the buildings became until finally, they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. Faye had expected a rather more impressive location for the Ministry of Magic.
"Here we are," said Mr. Weasley brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall. "Ladies first."
He opened the telephone box, and after throwing a confused glance at Harry, Faye stepped inside followed by Harry, then Mr. Weasley. It was a tight fit; Faye was jammed against the telephone apparatus which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off.
"Now Harry. If you could just punch in six, two, four, four, two for me please." Mr. Weasley asked.
To do so, Harry had reached over Faye to get to the number dial. As he did, his chest pressed against hers and she could hear her heart begin to hammer in her ears. She could smell the cologne that she had gotten him for his thirteenth birthday, pine and vanilla. The moment was fleeting, however, as he pulled away after punching in the last number.
As the dial whirled back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver hanging from the apparatus, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing behind them.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Er..." said Mr. Weasley, clearly uncertain whether he should talk into the receiver or not; "Arthur Wesealy, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter and Faye Jordan who have been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing..."
"Thank you." said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take your badge and attach it to the front of your robes."
There was a click and a rattle, and Faye saw something pop out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. Harry reached around Faye and picked them up. It was two silver square badges with Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing, and Faye Jordan, Disciplinary Hearing printed on the front. He handed Faye hers, then pinned his badge to the front of his shirt as the female voice spoke again.
"Visitor of the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the atrium."
The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground like an old elevator. Faye watched apprehensively as the pavement rose past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads. In the pitch-black darkness, all she could hear was the dull grinding noise of the telephone box as it made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, though it felt much longer to Faye, a chunk of golden light illuminated her feet and, widening, rose up her body, until it hit her in the face and she had to blink to stop her eyes from watering.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.
The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr. Weasley stepped out of it, followed by Harry and Faye, both of whose mouths had fallen open.
They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like an enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.
Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life size stood in the middle of a circular pool. The tallest of them was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and crack of Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundred of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, stride towards a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.
"It's beautiful," said Faye in wonder.
"This way," said Mr. Weasley
They joined the throng, winding their way through the Ministry workers. Just as he did amongst the crowd outside of the train, Harry grabbed Faye's hand to keep her from getting swallowed up by the current of wizards, and like before her heart skipped a beat. As they passed the fountain Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting in at him from the bottom of the pool. A small smudged sign beside it read:
All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to St. Mangos s hospital for Magical Maladies s and Injuries
If I'm not expelled from Hogwarts, I'll put in ten Galleons, Harry found himself thinking desperately. "Over here, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, and they stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates, toward a desk on the left, over which hung a sign that read Security. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.
"I'm escorting two visitors," said Mr. Weasley, gesturing toward Harry and Faye.
"Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice. "One at a time please."
Harry stepped up first and the wizard held up a long goldenrod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harry's front and back,
"Wand," grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.
Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.
"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, has been in use for four years. That correct?"
"Yes," Harry said nervously.
"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment paper on a small brass spike. "You get this back," he added, thrusting the wand back at Harry. "Next," he barked at Faye.
Timidly she walked up to where Harry had stood. Again he took the goldenrod and waved up and down over Faye.
"Wand." He grunted.
Faye didn't know what to do. She did not have a wand. She looked back at Harry for help.
"Is there a problem?" The security wizard grunted.
"No, no problem," said Mr. Weasley, "She's just a squib, she owns no wand."
Faye looked back at Mr. Weasley, curious as to why he lied. Was she in danger if she told everyone what she was?
"Oh, well you're good to go then," said the security wizard, picking up his paper again.
"Thank you, Eric." Mr. Weasley said, grasping Harry and Faye by their shoulders and steering them back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates.
"Mr. Weasley," Faye asked. "Why did you tell that man I was a squib?"
"Dumbledore thinks it best to tell as few people as possible who you are until you are fully registered as a student of Hogwarts. Until you are fully enrolled anyone could report you and obliterate your memory."
Jostled slightly by the crowd, Harry and Faye followed Mr. Weasley through the gates into a smaller hall beyond were at least twenty lifts stood behind golden grilles. Harry, Faye, and Mr. Weasley joined the crowd around one of them. A big, bearded wizard holding a large cardboard box stood nearby. The box was emitting rasping noises.
"All right, Arthur?" said the wizard, nodding at Mr. Weasley.
"What you got in there, Bob?" asked Mr. Weasley, looking at the box.
"We're not sure," said the wizard seriously. "We thought it was a bog-standard chicken until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me."
With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them; the golden grilles slipped back and Harry, Faye, and Mr. Weasley moved inside it with the rest of the crowd. Faye found herself jammed against Harry who had his back pressed to the wall of the lift.
Several witches and wizards were looking at Harry curiously and Faye wished that she was tall as him so she could use her body to shield his scar, which she knew is what they were staring at, but she only came up to his shoulders. Instead, he looked down at his feet, burying his head into Faye's shoulder. This brought all of their attention to Faye and she stared ahead defiantly, not bothering to meet anyone's eyes.
The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all the while, while the same smooth female voice from the telephone box rang out again.
"Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."
The lift doors opened; Faye glimpsed an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of men and women riding what looked like broomsticks, zooming in and out of the frames, tacked lopsidedly on the walls. One of the wizards in the lifts, who was carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himself with difficulty and disappeared down the corridor.
The doors closed, the lift jutted upwards again, and the woman's voice said, "Level six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center."
Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards got out; at the same time, several paper airplanes swooped into the lift. Harry, lifting his head from Faye's shoulder, joined her as she stared up at them as they flapped idly around above their head; they were a pale violet color and he could see Ministry of Magic stamped along the edges of their wings.
"Just interdepartmental memos, " Mr. Weasley muttered to them. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable... dropping all over the desks..."
As they cluttered upwards again, the memos flapped around the swaying lamp in the lift's ceiling.
"Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British seats."
When the doors opened, two of the memos zoomed out with a few more witches and wizards, but several more memos zoomed in, so that the light from the lamp in the ceiling flickered and flashed as they darted around it.
"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beasts, Being, and Spirits Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."
"S'cuse," said the wizard carrying the fire-breathing chicken and he left the lift pursued by a little flock of memos. The doors changed shut again.
"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."
Faye froze at that announcement. On this floor were the same men who were sent to her house to erase her memory. She sent a silent prayer in hopes that she wouldn't run into those men while she was here.
Everybody left the lift on this floor except Mr. Weasley, Faye, Harry, and a witch who was reading an extremely long piece of parchment that was trailing on the ground. The remaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as the lift juddered upwards again, and then the doors opened and the voice said, "Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Office."
"This is us, come along you two," said Mr. Weasley, and they followed the witch out of the lift into a corridor lined with doors. "My office is on the other side of this door."
"Mr. Weasley, two questions," Faye said.
"Yes, Faye?"
"Aren't we underground?" Faye asked as they passed a window through which sunlight was streaming.
"Yes, we are." said Mr. Weasley, "those are enchanted windows; Magical Maintenance decides what we are getting every day. We had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a pay raise."
"Right," said Faye, "next question, what is an Auror?"
"Aurors are dark wizard catchers," said Mr. Weasley matter of factly.
"Dark wizards? Like Voldemort."
At the mention of his name, Mr. Weasley froze with a cringe. "You should know that we don't use his name. If you want to refer to him, which I suggest you don't, please call him He-who-must-not-be-named."
"But Harry uses his name," Faye said confused.
"That's because I refused to fear him. He feeds off of fear." Harry said, defiance shining in his eyes.
Mr. Wesley pursed his lips at this but decided it was best not to argue at the moment and continued on.
They turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy oak doors, and emerged into a cluttered, open area divided into cubicles, which were buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read Auror Office. It looked like a normal 9-5 day job office. Faye was almost disturbed by the normality of it all compared to the rest of the building. The only sign of magic that brought it out of normality was the memos and the picture they had used to decorate.
The Aurors covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favorite Quidditch team, all of them moving. Faye gawked at all the moving photos, amazed at how the subjects of the photo seemed to be on an endless loop. In her opinion, it added a lot more life to the photos.
A scarlet-robed man with a ponytail longer than Bill's was sitting with his boots up on his desk, dictating a report to his quill. A little farther along, a witch with a patch over her eye was talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"Morning, Weasley," said Kingsley carelessly, as they drew nearer. "I've been wanting a word with you, do you have a second?"
"Yes, if it really is a second," said Mr. Weasley, "I'm in rather a hurry."
They were talking to each other as though they hardly knew each other, and when Harry opened his mouth to say hello to Kingsley, Faye stepped on his foot. They followed Kingsley along the row and into the very last cubicle.
Faye was taken aback at the sight of Kingsley's cubicle. On almost every inch of each wall, Sirius's face was blinking down at him from every direction. Newspaper cuttings and old photographs papered the walls. The only Sirius-free space was a map of the world in which little red pins were glowing like jewels. She turned her head to Harry and whispered "Someone's got a secret admirer." Harry tried to hide his laugh with a cough.
"Here," said Kingsley brusquely to Mr. Weasley, shoving a sheaf of paper into his hand. "I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months. We've received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle."
Kingsley tipped an enormous wink towards Harry and Faye and added in a whisper, "Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting." Then, in a normal tone, said, "And don't take too long Weasley, the delay on the firelegs report held our investigation up for a month."
"If you had read my report you would know the term is firearms," said Mr. Weasley coolly. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles, we are extremely busy at the moment." He dropped his voice and said, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."
Mr. Weasley beckoned to Faye and Harry and led them out of Kingsley's cubicle, through a second set of oak doors, into another passage, turned left, marched along another corridor, turned right into a dimly lit and distinctly shabby corridor, and finally reached a dead end, where a door on the left stood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on the right bore a tarnished brass plaque reading Misuse of Muggle Artifacts.
Mr. Weasley's dingy office seemed to be slightly smaller than a broom cupboard. Two desks had been crammed inside it and there was barely room to move around them because of all the overflowing filing cabinets lining the walls, on top of which were tottering piles of files. The little wall space available bore witness to Mr. Weasley's obsessions; there were several posters of cars, including one of a dismantled engine, two illustrations of postboxes he seemed to have cut out of Muggle children's books, and a diagram showing how to wire a plug.
Sitting on top of Mr. Weasley's overflowing in-tray was an old toaster that was hiccupping in a disconsolate way and a pair of empty leather gloves that were twiddling their thumbs. A photograph of the Weasley family stood beside the in-tray. Harry noticed that Percy seemed to have walked out of it.
"We haven't got a window," said Mr. Weasley apologetically, taking off his bomber jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. "We've asked, but they don't seem to think we need one. Have a seat, doesn't look as if Perkins is in yet."
Faye sat in the chair in front of Mr. Weasley's desk, while Harry squeezed himself into the chair behind Perkin's desk while Mr. Weasley rifled through the sheaf of parchment Kingsley Shacklebot had given him.
"Ah," he said, grinning, as he extracted a copy of a magazine entitled The Quibbler from its midst, "yes..."He flicked through it. "Yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will find that very amusing – Oh dear, what's this now?"
A memo had just zoomed in through the open door and fluttered to rest on top of the hiccuping toaster. Mr. Weasley unfolded it and read aloud, "Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately.' This is getting ridiculous..."
"A regurgitating toilet?" Harry said.
"Anti-Muggle pranksters," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing– well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling in those– those pumbles, I think they're called– you know, the ones who mend pipes and things–"
"Plumbers?" Harry said.
"-- exactly, yes, but of course, they're flummoxed. I only hope we can catch whoever's doing it."
"Will it be Aurors who catch them?" Faye asked.
"Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it'll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol."
"Is.. is Anti-Muggle sentiment common amongst wizards?" Faye asked, timidly. "I mean, I know Voldemort–" Mr. Weasley flinched at the name, but Faye ignored it and continued deciding she would not fear the man's name, " – and his followers want to kill Muggles, but is it common for wizards to hate muggles?"
Faye had an inkling based on how Mr. Weasley acted at the security desk earlier, that Anti-Muggle sentiment was common. However, she hoped it wasn't true, she didn't know how she was going to navigate living in this world if everyone hated her for being there. Wizards or not, these were high school-age teens, if they hated her they would make her life a living hell, and she didn't want Harry to take the brunt of their hatred.
"Rest assured, Anti-Muggle sentiment is not very popular in this day in age. While there are plenty of witches and wizards who get a big head and think they are better than Muggles, you won't run into those who would wish you harm." Mr. Weasley with a small smile.
Faye nodded, returning the smile. While Harry was glad Mr. Weasley was able to dispel her fear, he could only think about those he knew in Hogwarts who did share the same Anti-Muggle sentiments as Voldemort, and would gladly wish harm on Faye. Draco and his gang of cronies can mess with me all they want, Harry thought, but they'll have to get through me to hurt her.
"Ah, Faye, Harry, this is Perkins." Mr. Weasley said.
A stooped, timid-looking old wizard with fluffy white hair had just entered the room, panting.
"Oh Arthur!" he said desperately, without looking at either Harry or Faye. "Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for the best, whether to wait here for you or not, I've just sent an owl to your home but you've obviously missed it– an urgent message came ten minutes ago–"
"I know about the regurgitating toilet," said Mr. Weasley.
"No, no it's not the toilet, it's the Potter boy's hearing– they've changed the time and venue– it starts at eight o'clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten–"
"Down in old– but they told me– Merlin's beard–"
Mr. Weasley looked at his watch, let out a yelp, and leaped from his chair.
"Quick, both of you up, we should have been there five minutes ago!"
Perkins flattened himself against the filing cabinets as Mr. Weasley left the office at a run, Harry, and Faye on his heels.
"Why have they changed the time?" Harry said breathlessly as they hurtled past the Auror cubicles; people poked out their heads and stared as they streaked past. Harry felt as though he had left all his insides back at Perkin's desk.
"I've got no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early, if you'd missed it, it would have been catastrophic!"
Mr. Weasley skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently at the down button. As Faye stopped beside Harry, she bent over resting her hands on her knees, attempting (and failing) to catch her breath. "I need to work out more," she said breathlessly.
"Come ON!" Mr. Weasley yelled, ignoring her.
The lift clattered into view and they hurried inside. Every time it stopped Mr. Weasley cursed furiously and pummelled the number nine button.
"Those courtrooms haven't been used in years," said Mr. Weasley angrily. "I can't think why they're doing it down there– unless– but no..."
A plump witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and Mr. Weasley did not elaborate.
"The Atrium," said the cool female voice, and the golden grilles slid open, showing Harry a distant glimpse of the golden statues in the fountain. The plump witch got out and a sallow-skinned wizard with a very mournful face got in.
"Morning, Arthur," he said in a sepulchral voice as the lift began to descend. "Don't often see you down here..."
"Urgent business, Bode," said Mr. Weasley, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looks over at Harry.
"Ah, yes," said Bode, surveying Harry unblinkingly. "Of, course."
Harry barely had emotions to spare for Bode, but his unfaltering gaze did not make him feel any more comfortable.
"Department of Mysteries," said the cool female voice, and left it at that.
"Quick, you two," said Mr. Weasley as the lift doors ratted open, and they sped up a corridor that was quite different from those above. The walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors except for a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor, and from it, Faye could hear the sound of what seemed to be multiple people whispering.
As if being pulled by a string, she began to walk, mesmerized, towards the sound. However, Harry caught her arm and pulled her behind him as they ran to catch up with Mr. Weasley.
"Down here, down here." panted Mr. Weasley, taking two steps at a time. "The lift doesn't even come down this far... why they're doing it down here..."
They reached the bottom of the steps and ran down yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to the corridor that led to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.
" Courtroom... ten... I think... we're nearly.... yes."
Mr. Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against a wall, clutching at a stitch to his chest.
"Go on, Harry," he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. "Get in there."
"Aren't you coming with-"
"No, no I'm not allowed and Faye must stay out here until she's called." Mr. Weasley said.
Harry turned towards Faye and she stepped forward to hug him. As he embraced her, he rested his chin on top of her head. "You'll be fine. I got your back. Don't worry." she said.
Reluctantly, Harry released her and turned towards the door. Harry's heart was beating a violent tattoo against his adam's apple. He swallowed hard, turned the heavy iron door handle, and stepped inside the Courtroom.