Arthur's boots clicked against wet pavement as he materialized in a narrow London alley. The familiar weight of the invisibility cloak settled around his shoulders as he stepped onto Whitehall's bustling evening sidewalk.
Even with the many means of transportation he had mastered, he couldn't travel to any place he lacked a clear image of or had never visited. He would have to go the normal way.
That's right. He had never actually visited the Ministry of Magic in all these years. There was never any real need to. Thankfully, he knew how to get inside.
Arthur walked purposefully down the street, scanning for the landmark he sought. Between a grand government building and a small café, he spotted it—an out-of-order phone booth that looked distinctly shabby compared to its surroundings.
The red booth stood exactly where the books had described. Arthur slipped inside, noting how cramped the space felt even for one person.
He lifted the receiver and dialed 6-2-4-4-2, each number echoing with metallic clicks.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," announced a cool female voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Please state your name and business."
Arthur considered his options. Giving his real name would be monumentally stupid.
"Merlin," he said with a straight face. "Visiting the Department of Mysteries."
Silence. Then: "Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to your robes."
A silver badge clattered into the coin return. Arthur examined it with growing disbelief. The words shimmered across its surface: Merlin, Visitor, Department of Mysteries.
"Seriously?" He pinned it to his chest. "I could have said 'Dark Lord Bob' and they'd print me a badge?"
The booth lurched downward.
Arthur watched through the glass as they dropped past basement levels and sub-basements, deeper into London's underground than should have been possible. Finally, the booth shuddered to a stop.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," the voice announced.
The door opened onto the Ministry's Atrium.
Arthur stepped out and immediately felt something was wrong. The vast space stretched before him—black granite walls, peacock-blue ceiling, golden fountain at the center. But it was completely empty.
No security guards of any kind. No Aurors patrolling the perimeter. No workers hurrying between the Floo Network fireplaces that lined the walls like silent sentinels.
Arthur moved carefully across the polished floor, still concealed beneath the invisibility cloak. This was far too suspicious. How had Death Eaters simply walked into one of magical Britain's most secure locations? How much inside help did they have that the entire place was empty and no one from the light side or legitimate Ministry officials knew?
It said a lot about the Ministry and how thoroughly corrupt it had become. Infested with dark wizards and their sympathizers.
Arthur approached the lifts and pressed the call button.
This was why he wasn't using the Mirror Dimension for stealth. Though excellent for moving around unseen, it had significant limitations. You couldn't interact with physical objects from that parallel realm—no opening doors, no operating lifts, no turning handles.
He would have to constantly shift in and out of the dimension, which was too much of a hassle and ruined any stealth advantage.
The lift arrived with a cheerful ding. Arthur stepped inside and pressed the button for Level Nine.
The lift descended with mechanical efficiency, its cheerful voice a jarring contrast to the ominous atmosphere: "Level Nine, Department of Mysteries."
The doors opened onto a corridor that felt wrong. Not just empty—hungry. The black stone walls seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
At the corridor's end waited a plain black door.
Arthur approached it like one might approach a sleeping dragon. The handle turned easily.
Too easily.
The door swung open to reveal a circular chamber lined with identical black doors. No markings, no signs, nothing to distinguish them. The infamous rotating room—designed to confuse intruders and probably a few employees who'd had one too many at lunch.
"Right then," Arthur said. "Systematic approach."
The first door revealed floating brains.
Dozens of them, suspended in tanks of luminescent green fluid. They pulsed with their own rhythm, like exposed thoughts dreaming of escape. Broken glass littered the floor.
Someone had already been here. Recently.
Arthur's pace quickened.
The second door opened onto another damaged chamber. Scorch marks decorated the walls in artistic patterns. He moved on.
The third door made him stop dead.
The room beyond was filled with towering shelves, each lined with hundreds of small, spinning objects that caught the light like captured time itself.
Time-Turners.
Arthur stepped inside, marveling at the sheer quantity. Dozens of shelves, each holding hundreds of the precious devices. Again, there were signs of battle—some shelves had been knocked over, glass orbs scattered across the floor.
But Arthur didn't leave in a hurry this time. The Time-Turners were too attractive to ignore.
He'd always been afraid to pursue time magic, knowing how easily it could have disastrous consequences. But these could prove invaluable in the future, and he could practice under the Ancient One's guidance. With her experience in time magic, he wouldn't have to fear catastrophic mistakes.
"The Death Eaters are already taking the blame," he reasoned, selecting five devices from the debris. "What's a few more?"
The Time-Turners disappeared into his robes just as footsteps echoed from the main corridor.
Running footsteps. Many of them.
Arthur slipped back into the circular chamber as the Order of the Phoenix burst through the entrance. Sirius Black led the charge, his aristocratic features twisted with desperate fury.
"Move faster!" Sirius roared. "Every second counts!"
"Sirius, wait—" Remus tried to grab his friend's arm.
"No waiting, Moony!" Sirius shook him off. "Harry's in there! If those bastards touch one hair on his head—"
"We need a plan—" someone started.
"My plan is to hex first and ask questions when they're screaming." Sirius was already moving toward a specific door. "Coming?"
Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye swiveled constantly. "Constant vigilance! Could be a trap!"
"Everything's a trap with you, Moody," Sirius shot back, but his grin held no humor. "Sometimes you just have to spring it."
They charged through the door. Arthur followed, grateful he'd arrived in time.
The Veil Room opened before them like a Roman amphitheater designed by someone with a death fetish. Stone seats descended toward a raised dais where an ancient archway stood—its tattered black curtain rippling without wind.
Whispers leaked from beyond the veil. The voices of the dead, calling to anyone foolish enough to listen.
But Arthur barely noticed the veil. His attention locked onto the battle already raging below.
Death Eaters and teenagers. Killing curses and desperate shields. Green light and terrified screams.
Harry Potter and his friends were fighting for their lives.
The Order's arrival changed everything.
"Finally!" Sirius laughed as he dove into combat. "A proper fight!"
Spells erupted like fireworks. The chamber became a deadly light show—green death racing toward red stunners, silver shields blooming against purple flames.
Arthur watched a stray killing curse pass through the space where his head would have been. Time for a tactical adjustment.
He waved his hands in practiced motions. Reality cracked like broken glass.
The Mirror Dimension enveloped him.
Arthur removed the invisibility cloak, no longer needing its protection. From this parallel space, he could observe without dodging crossfire. The perfect spectator seat for magical warfare.
And what a show it was.
Sirius dueled like a man reborn, his face alight with savage joy. Each near-miss with a killing curse only made him laugh harder. He moved through combat like a dancer who'd learned his steps in Azkaban.
"Is that the best you've got?" he taunted, deflecting a bone-breaking curse. "My mother hit harder than that!"
Remus fought with controlled fury, the wolf lurking behind every precise movement. Where Sirius was chaos, Remus was calculated destruction.
Mad-Eye Moody simply was. His regular eye focused on his current opponent while the magical one tracked three others. His wand never stopped moving, creating a defensive web that seemed impossible to penetrate.
Despite being outnumbered, despite facing opponents who used Unforgivables like punctuation, the Order was winning.
Then Arthur spotted her.
Bellatrix Lestrange fought her way across the chamber with manic glee, her wild hair flying as she cackled with each curse she cast. Her target was clear—she was moving toward Sirius with single-minded determination.
Sirius noticed his deranged cousin advancing on him and grinned with anticipation.
"Bella!" Sirius called out, abandoning his duel with Lucius. "Finally! I was starting to think you didn't care!"
"Little baby Black," Bellatrix sang, her voice pitched to carry over the combat. "Come to play with the grown-ups?"
"Grown-ups?" Sirius barked a laugh. "You still look like you raided a makeup cabinet and got lost."
Bellatrix's face twisted with fury at the insult, her pale features contorting into something inhuman.
The cousins began to circle each other, their hatred transcending the larger battle around them.
Arthur stood up in the Mirror Dimension, his muscles tensing. The moment he had come to prevent was here.
Everything depended on what happened in the next few seconds.