Memoir: A World in Shambles

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MEMOIR: A WORLD IN SHAMBLES
PROLOGUE;

          RIORDAN STOOD AT one end of a elongated and splendid hall with perfectly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly noticeboard. Wall's on each side were panelled with shiny dark wood that matched the flooring, 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 were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

        Sighing deeply, Riordan heart always seemed to quicken as he was encased in the underground ministry. His eyes skimmed the what was ahead of him, waiting for his normal routine. As usual, he joined the cord of people in colorful cloaks, drifting his way between the Ministry workers, some of them were carrying wobbling piles of parchment, others with battered briefcases, still others were reading the Daily Prophet while he walked.

       The Castor young man stared up at the statue as he went deeper into the Ministry, before him was the golden statue of wizards and witches in muggle attire, holding their wands among witches and wizards in cloaks. There was a sign in front of the statue, at the entrance from the long corridor he was in, and it read; All proceeds from the fountain of magical acceptance will be given to muggleborn families and St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It was a attempt on the ministries part to mend any bitterness that anyone had towards them since the war. Then he let his eyes glance around at the other wizards, and witches around him, watching as they flicked silver sickles, bronze knuts, and even some were throwing gold galleon's at the bottom of the pool. Glittering jets of water flew from the ends of the wands held by the witches and wizards on the statue, a trickling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of the apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of them wearing glum, early morning looks, strode towards a set of golden gates at the end of the hall.

          Also on the statue, we're the names of hundreds, if not thousands of witches and wizards of any bloodstatus who were killed because of Lord Voldemort. Riordan circled the golden statue, his eyes searching for the names that he knew well, it wasn't much of a search, he saw them every day; he had been doing this since the war had ended, just some of the names he looked for daily were Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Lupin, and Fred Weasley. He shifted his bag from across his back, he reached into his bag, grabbed ten golden galleon's and threw them into the water before flinging his bag back across his back as he walked into a stream of other Ministry employees heading for the golden gates. Seated at a desk to the left, beneath a sign saying security, a dark skinned wizard with dark hair, and eyes in dark blue robes looked up as he approached and put down his daily prophet.

"Good Morn, Sampson," Riordan's voice was soft, as it had been since the war. Before the war, he hadn't been so soft spoken.

Sampson grinned at Riordan, they had known each other from Hogwarts, though they weren't friends, Riordan considered him a good associate, "Do you expect you'll have a lot of work today, Riordan?"

"I always do," he replied as he steered himself away from the desk and back into the steam of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates. Slowly, Riordan made his way through the gates into the smaller hall beyond it, where at least twenty elevators stood behind wrought golden grilles, the young man joined the crowd that gathered around one of them.

Standing beside Riordan, was an aged wizard with bright red hair, though he was balding, he wore glasses and had very familiar blue eyes, he was tall, and had thinned out even more since the war, he held his bag close to his chest, Riorden knew this man quite well although now, nobody would have guessed, he grinned at Riordan, "Good morning, Riordan."