The Dreamer's Curse

The Ministry's Enquiry

[Chapter 4]

The healer had promptly commanded me back into bed, and had me drink a turquoise potion. She then went off to other errands and left me slouching on my bed. I was already planning an escape route from the hospital when the healer came back, whispering to a man in black robes. He gave her a curt nod and walked with a slight limp to the left side of my bed.

"Dear child," he began, not softening his expression. "Rufus Scrimgeour. I'm an auror. I'm truly sorry to have to whisk you away just when you awoke, but there is a Ministry trial regarding the incident, and it must proceed as planned. If you would get dressed, please," he nodded at the healer, who brought me a set of clothes. I scurried into the bathroom and pulled on the faded pair of jeans that were a few inches too short and a plain white T that was a size too big. I washed my face in the sink and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Apparently, I had yet to hit puberty. My cheeks still had their youthful fullness. I looked down at my body. Was this really how I looked like back when I was ten?

I shrugged and stepped back out to meet Scrimgeour. A pair of ankle boots sat next to the bed, and I knelt to put them on. Scrimgeour was impatient. He seemed to wear a permanent frown as he led me out St. Mungo's. London was damp in the spring, and the moist air hit us right as we stepped out the hospital entrance. I hadn't realised how much I missed British soil—granted, it was England and not the Scottish country, but it did have a certain metropolitan charm to it. I trailed behind Scrimgeour as we made our way around London. We weaved our way through the crowds with ease. Teenagers walked in packs, laughing loudly, their eyes on each other instead of the electronic devices of the 21st century. Businessmen strode with a set jaw, bumping into anyone who got in their way. How things had changed so swiftly in the span of a decade! Scrimgeour stopped abruptly, and I nearly walked into him.

"Step in, please," he said, gesturing to an old red phone booth. I gave a yelp of recognition and followed his instructions. I watched as he put in a few coins and dialled '62442'.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name and your business," a female voice rang out from the phone box.

"Rufus Scrimgeour, Auror's Office," he said coolly. "Escorting Ms Jane Kingsleigh to the Investigation Trial."

Jane March, I was about to correct him, when the voice replied. "Thank you," she said. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

A square silver badge was chucked out, reading Jane Kingsleigh, Investigation Trial, on it. I sighed and pinned it to my shirt.

Suddenly, we were plummeting down into the ground. I held onto the ledge and bit my lower lip. The phone booth screeched to a stop and chucked us out into the Atrium. Scrimgeour shoved me lightly into an empty lift and pressed the button to level nine. I immediately realised where we were headed: the courtrooms.

“Excuse me, sir," I said hesitantly. "Am I in trouble?"

Scrimgeour glanced at me and shook his head. "You are being brought forth as a witness."

"To what exactly?"

He looked at me with shock. "To the accident, of course. The muggle train from France to England was attacked by dark wizards three months ago. What else did you think this was for?"

Before I could respond, the lift's bell rung and Scrimgeour ushered me out. We descended a short flight of stairs into a hall with rough walls. Torches illuminated the corridor to the courtroom's heavy doors. Scrimgeour pushed it open and we made our way in. The benches were filled with wizards and witches in plum coloured robes, all of whom were chattering softly. I counted around twenty of them. This was obviously not a full trial, but it was serious enough to be held in the courtroom.