We don’t talk about the Department of Mysteries
Deep within the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Mysteries laid.
The Department was a maze of indistinguishable corridors and identical doors; many foolish men had succumbed to the allure of discovering their secrets — forgotten magicks and riches beyond a man’s greatest dream.
Not one of them ever left again.
Many got lost and disappeared. For days, weeks, months. No-one quite knows what exactly came back, wearing their faces and possessing their memories.
Others were driven mad by things not meant for the unprotected eye.
Quite a few fell in love. And fell. And fell. And fell. (lovelovelove)
There were even some that found their happiness and purpose; who made their dreams come true. And so they stayed. (and sleptsleptslept)
The tick tockticking of clocks drew some closer; their sound hypnotizing, a wild jumble played in perfect harmony. Beautiful shimmering sand was rippling through their fingers when, simultaneously, every clock would hitch and slow and… and continue as normal. Tick tockticking. The person blinked. (and they were gonegonegone)
And then there were those that found themselves led within the deepest parts of these halls.
Far below the Ministry, surrounded by thick stone walls and ancient magicks — older even than the Ministry itself. There, in the middle of a circular room, dark from the lack of sunlight and withered with age, stood a lone archway, its misty veil rippling in nonexistent wind.
Some of those people spoke of voices, calling to them and luring them in. While others saw…something, waiting for them beyond the veil. (they shouldn’t have stared into the void)
(they shouldn’t have come)
(— back)
The Department of Mysteries remained a mystery, their work a secret, their people unspeakable.
Unknown.
Veils and magicks long forgotten cloaked their faces and distorted their voices.
Oaths and bindings and rituals and spells shrouded them forevermore.
If they were even human — no-one knew.
Not even the Minister of Magic knew for sure about the going ons in this particular Department. The only consolation he had, the only reassurance, that they would not overthrow them all and send the world into disarray, ripping apart the seams of reality and magic, was the vow they swore; a vow binding their magic and life to the protection of the Ministry of Magic.
In the end though, the Minister had no authority over the Department of Mysteries. No-one had.
Therefore, when two people who shouldn’t exist walked out of the Veil of Death on the thirty-first of October 1942, at exactly 12 am, no-one from the outside was none the wiser.
Seven days later, Hardyal Ezri and Draconis Saltatio arrived at Hogwarts after both their families died tragically in the wars currently waging in both worlds, leaving them all alone in the world.
There was no proof that they weren’t ever not there.