Before he could fully process what had just happened, two small creatures emerged from the shadows, their bright eyes gleaming with curiosity. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he recognized them as Kneazles, magical creatures known for their keen senses and uncanny ability to detect suspicious individuals. Instinctively, Harry tensed, unsure of how the creatures would react to his presence. But to his surprise, the Kneazles approached him cautiously, their movements hesitant yet curious. With a soft purring sound, they began to nuzzle against him, their tongues lapping at the sticky jelly that clung to his clothes. Harry watched in amazement as the creatures worked diligently to clean him off, their actions a silent approval of his presence. Despite his initial apprehension, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. It seemed that, in the eyes of the Kneazles at least, he posed no threat. As the last traces of jelly were licked away, Harry couldn't help but offer a tentative smile to his new companions. It seemed that his unexpected arrival in the Ministry of Magic had taken a rather unconventional turn, but Harry was determined to make the most of it.
Harry stepped forward, the door before him swung open with a soft creak, revealing a sight that left him utterly amazed. Before him stretched a grand atrium, its soaring ceilings adorned with intricate carvings and shimmering magical lights. The air was filled with the hum of activity as witches and wizards bustled about, their robes swirling around them as they went about their business. But what caught Harry's attention the most were the four imposing guards stationed at the entrance, their stern expressions and imposing stances leaving no doubt as to their authority. As Harry approached, the guards turned their attention toward him, their eyes scanning him from head to toe with a practiced gaze.
"State your business," one of the guards demanded, his voice firm and commanding. Harry swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling the weight of their scrutiny upon him.
"I-I'm here to visit the Ministry of Magic," Harry replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I have an invitation." With a nod of acknowledgement, one of the guards stepped forward, his hand outstretched to receive Harry's wand. Harry hesitated for a moment before reluctantly handing it over, his fingers tightening around the polished wood as it slipped from his grasp. The guard examined the wand carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinized it for any signs of tampering or enchantment. Satisfied with his inspection, he nodded to his companions, who returned Harry's wand to him with a curt nod.
"Your invitation, please," the guard requested, holding out his hand expectantly. Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the crumpled piece of parchment, handing it over with a sense of trepidation. The guard studied the invitation intently, his brow furrowing in concentration as he read the contents. After a moment, he nodded in satisfaction, returning the invitation to Harry with a brisk nod.
"Very well," the guard said, stepping aside to allow Harry entry. "You may proceed." With a sense of relief, Harry stepped through the threshold, his heart pounding with anticipation as he entered the bustling atrium of the Ministry of Magic. As the door swung shut behind him, he couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur and majesty of the place, eager to explore all that it had to offer.
Harry stood in the bustling atrium, feeling utterly lost amid the sea of wizards and witches swirling around him, a young woman approached with a friendly smile. She was in her twenties, with dark hair cascading in waves around her shoulders and warm, brown eyes that sparkled with curiosity.
"Salut!" the woman greeted, her voice lilting with the musical cadence of Romanian. Harry blinked in confusion, unable to decipher the unfamiliar words.
"Uh, sorry, I don't speak Romanian," Harry admitted sheepishly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The woman's smile widened, and she quickly switched to English, her tone friendly and welcoming.
"No worries! Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. My name is Ana. Can I help you find something?" Harry hesitated for a moment, considering how much he should reveal. But something about the woman's friendly demeanor put him at ease, and he found himself opening up to her.
"I'm Harry and I'm looking for the Ministry's library," he admitted, his voice tinged with curiosity. "I'm researching a wizard named Aurelian Dragomir. I'm hoping to find some information about him." Ana's eyes lit up with interest, her curiosity piqued by Harry's words.
"Aurelian Dragomir, you say?" she repeated, her brow furrowing slightly in thought. "That name sounds familiar. I think I've heard it mentioned before." Harry's heart skipped a beat at her words, a surge of hope flooding through him.
"Really? Do you know anything about him?" Ana shook her head apologetically. "I'm not sure, he was a legendary wizard in our community. He helped the Ministry to stop a rebellion between 'noni' and vampires...but I can certainly help you look. Follow me." With that, she turned and began to make her way through the bustling crowd, Harry following close behind. Harry couldn't help but notice the curious glances directed their way. He felt a pang of self-consciousness, acutely aware of how out of place he must look amidst the sea of wizards and witches.
"Sorry if this seems like a silly question," Harry began, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "But what does 'noni' mean?" Ana glanced back at him, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"Ah," her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "It's a term we use here to refer to people born without magic. Muggles, you might say." Understanding dawned on Harry, and he nodded in comprehension.
"Ah, I see. Thanks for explaining." She chuckled, her laughter light and musical.
"No problem. It can be a bit confusing at first, I know. But you'll get the hang of it." A few minutes later walking down the corridor they arrived. "Here we are," she said, gesturing toward the grand double doors that loomed before them. "The Ministry's library."
Harry's eyes widened in awe as he took in the sight before him. The library was vast, stretching out before them in all directions, shelves upon shelves of books reaching toward the ceiling. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and magic, and Harry felt a thrill of anticipation course through him.
"It's incredible," Harry breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've never seen anything like it." Ana smiled at his reaction, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"It's quite something, isn't it? Hogwarts Library is impressive, I'm sure, but there's nothing quite like the Romanian Ministry's collection. Now, if you excuse me, I have to go. I'm sure you will find what you're looking for." As Ana bid him farewell and left to attend to her own tasks, Harry found himself standing alone in the vast expanse of the library. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before setting off in search of the sections he needed. Wandering through the labyrinthine shelves, Harry soon found himself surrounded by rows of books on literature, science, and archaeology. He scanned the spines, his eyes darting from title to title in search of any mention of Aurelian Dragomir or the rare crystal from which his wand was made. After what felt like hours of searching, Harry finally emerged from the depths of the library and found himself back in the lobby. There, seated behind a grand oak desk, sat the librarian—a ghostly figure with wispy white hair and a kindly expression.
"Excuse me," Harry began, approaching the desk with a polite smile. "I was wondering if you could help me find some information." The ghost looked up from his ledger, his translucent eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"Of course, my dear boy," he replied, his voice echoing faintly through the cavernous space. "What is it you're looking for?" Harry explained his quest to the ghostly librarian, recounting the tale of Aurelian Dragomir and the mysterious crystal from which his wand was crafted. The ghost listened intently, his wispy form hovering behind the desk as Harry spoke.
"Ah, I see," the librarian murmured, stroking his translucent chin thoughtfully. "A fascinating tale, indeed. Well, fear not, my boy. You've come to the right place." With a flourish of his hand, the ghost gestured toward the shelves of books that surrounded them, their spines glinting in the dim light of the library.
"All you need to do is take out your wand," the librarian explained, his voice echoing faintly through the air. "And simply think about the topic you wish to explore. The books will come to you." Harry nodded, a sense of anticipation building within him as he reached for his wand. Closing his eyes, he focused his thoughts on Aurelian Dragomir and the ancient magic that surrounded him, allowing the image to fill his mind. Moments later, he felt a gentle tug at his fingertips, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself holding a thick tome bound in worn leather. With a sense of wonder, Harry flipped open the cover and began to read, his mind alive with the possibilities that lay before him.
