Percy Jackson and the Department of Mysteries

24) Infreno: The Story Of Dante's Journey Through The Ministry (AKA Hell)

We got jostled around by the crowd as we made our way through it, which made me want to punch a bunch of innocent workers. It was too early to be jostled around like this. We weren't saved from the jostling when we arrived at the twenty elevators (lifts for you weirdos), joining the crowd in front of one of them.

"All right, Arthur?" A wizard holding a funky-sounding box nodded at Mr. Weasley.

"What've you got there, Bob?" Mr. Weasley looked at the box.

"We're not sure," the wizard shrugged. "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."

"He's just not sure," I whispered to Harry in awe. "I love him. I love him so much. I'll name something after him in his memory someday. I swear it."

With a concerning amount of clattering an elevator arrived in front of us. We stepped in with the rest of the crowd, and I found myself awkwardly jammed against the back of the wall. I ignored the witches and wizards looking curiously at me and Harry, and instead scowled as the same terrible disembodied voice rang in our ears when we reached the next floor, "Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."

The doors opened, revealing an untidy corridor with Quidditch posters plastered on the wall. My kind of hallway. A wizard carrying an armful of sparking broomsticks stepped out with difficulty and disappeared down the corridor. The doors closed and the elevator shuddered upwards, the haunting voice saying, "Level six, Department of Magical Transport, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Center."

The doors opened again and four or five wizards clambered out, several paper airplanes flying in at the same time. They were a pale purple, and the Ministry of Magic logo was stamped on the wings.

"Just interdepartmental memos," Mr. Weasley explained, muttering. "We used to have owls, but the mess was unbelievable... droppings all over the desks..."

"Level five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats." Two of the memos flew out, but several more flew in, marking the light flicker above us. 

"Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."

"'S'cuse," beautiful Bob said, taking the fire-breathing chicken with him, followed by a flock of memos. The doors clanged together, leaving my heart with Bob.

"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee." Everyone left except for us and a witch with a very, very long piece of parchment trailing on the ground.

"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

"This is us, boys," Mr. Weasley said, and we followed the witch through a corridor lined with doors. "My office is on the other side of the floor."

"Mr. Weasley," Harry glanced at the windows as we passed them, "aren't we underground?"

"Yes, we are," Mr. Weasley said, "those are enchanted windows; Magical Maintenance decide what weather we're getting every day. We had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a pay raise.... Just round here, boys."

We turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy wood doors, and emerged into a open area divided into cubicles. It was almost like a regular Muggle office, except there were flying memos, moving pictures, and laughter. A lopsided sign on the closest cubicle read AUROR HEADQUARTERS. Maybe. It was an educated guess at that point, because I saw the nice Auror, Julius Watson, who had saved me in Diagon Alley biting his lip as he looked down at a file.

We made our way through the cubicles towards Kingsley Shacklebolt, who spoke carelessly as we got close, "Morning, Weasley. I've been wanting a word with you, have you got a second?"

"Yes, if it really is a second," Mr. Weasley said. "I'm in a rather hurry." They were talking as if they didn't really know each other. When Harry opened his mouth to say hello to Kingsley, I stood on his foot, and he quickly shut his mouth. We followed Kingsley down the row and into the farthest cubicle.

Kingsley's cubicle was covered in pictures of Sirius — Sirius's WANTED poster, newspaper clippings, and even a naked baby picture. The only space without him was a map of the world dotted in little red pins.

"Here," Kingsley said gruffly, shoving a piece of parchment into Mr. Weasley's 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." He then gave Harry and me an enormous wink, and spoke in a whisper. "Give him the magazine, they might find it interesting." He returned to normal tones. "And don't take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held our investigation up for a month."

"If you had read my report then you would know that the term is 'firearms,'" Mr. Weasley said smoothly. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles, we're extremely busy at the moment." He lowered his voice. "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."

He motioned to us and led us out of Kinglsey's cubicle, through another set of heavy oak doors, through another passage, turned left, down another corridor, turned right into another, shabbier corridor, and finally to a dead end, where the door on the left showed a broom cupboard, and the right led to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office.

It was probably smaller than the broom cupboard, in all honesty. Two desks had been shoved inside of it, and what little free space there was had been taken up by several filing cabinets piled on top of one another. The little free space on the wall was filled with pictures of Mr. Weasley's obsessions; a model of a defibrillator, a diagram of a car engine, and something that looked like one of those children's ladybug phone.

Beside the overflowing tray of papers on Mr. Weasley's desk (on top of the papers was a set of gloves twiddling their thumbs, which really added to the atmosphere) was a picture of the Weasley family. It looked like Perry had walked out of it (what a little bitch).

"We haven't got a window," Mr. Weasley placed his jacket on the back of his chair. "We've asked, but they don't seem to think we need one. Have a seat, boys. It doesn't look as if Perkins is in yet."

Harry sat in Perkins' seat while I sat on the small, wobbly stool seated in front of Mr. Weasley's desk.

I was going to talk about something, but I don't remember what. So now we will sit here in a moment of silence while I think of something to say. Well, I'll sit here, you guys get the time skip. So it's not often I wish I were back in middle school, because it's middle school, but it'd be so freaking cool if I were twelve and could play Annabeth in the show. I mean, I'd never get chosen, but just the idea that it could be me would be awesome. Instead, I get to live with the knowledge that maybe Thalia???? Like I'm not even going to audition but I could. Like I'm 16, Thalia's nearly that age when she stops aging. It'll be a while before we ever see her, but I've always looked a lot younger than I actually am. So, like... I could. But I won't. Sad times. Good times though, I'm freaking excited for the show. So ready for it. I'm hoping the early 2022 green light happens so I can cheer excitedly and beg Kadee to audition for Annabeth.

Anyway, I hope you guys have had a great Thursday, and I'll see you on Saturday CT. Love ya!