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Arthur Weasley apparated just outside the phone booth that lead down to the Ministry of Magic, where he’d managed to track Mundungus. What he saw when he arrived amazed him. The booth had been surrounded with some kind of black powder cloud that glistened like a night sky, causing the inside of the compartment to be pitch black when entered. Mr. Weasley cursed silently when he recognized the powder as none other than Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, which he knew his sons Fred and George exclusively supplied at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Mr. Weasley waited a bit longer, trying to calm himself as he waited for his sons to rejoin him. Charlie and Bill had gone to fetch Fred and George at the hospital to help them track Mundungus. He hoped they would also be able to tell him how Harry was.

At that moment, Mr. Weasley watched a shimmering bald eagle flying through the sky towards him. He recognized it at once as Moody’s patronus. Mr. Weasley tensed, hoping this was the response to the message he’d sent Moody about Mundungus. Upon landing the eagle began to speak in a low growl, reciting the speech Moody had undoubtedly dictated to it. “Catch him, Arthur. Capture is key. We need to know what we’re up against.” With that the bird had disappeared, shimmering into the dark night like a ghost, leaving Mr. Weasley deep in thought.

Mr. Weasley was still contemplating the message when his sons turned up. Mr. Weasley immediately turned Fred and George loose on the Darkness Powder, promising not to tell their mother as long as they could remove it. The twins exchanged looks, and began viciously beating at it with their cloaks. As the other men looked on, the powder began to clear, revealing the remains of the phone apparatus hanging even more precariously off of its hinges. The receiver was torn off its chord, and was lying in a pile of what seemed to be the rest of the broken glass from the windows of the phone booth. “Whoa,” growled Bill in a hushed tone from behind the twins. “Guess we’re not getting in that way.”

“Well we could at least try,” said Charlie, drawing level with the others. “That funny curved thing doesn’t have to be attached does it?”

“Well I ‘spose not, although that could make it quite a bit more difficult to get in. Let’s just hope Mundungus didn’t do any spell damage.” Mr. Weasley said, as he began dialing the five-number combination into the keypad, while the others jammed themselves into the nearly destroyed booth. Miraculously, the cool female voice came out loudly through the booth, asking them for their names and purpose. Each gave their name, and gave their reason simply as “Chasing”. Promptly 5 badges popped out of the coin return slot, each silver with their names and “Chasing” emblazoned across them. The men hastily fastened the badges to their cloaks, and waited as the floor gave way slowly, letting the telephone booth slowly grind its way through the ground.

Once they’d finally reached the Atrium, the men sprinted across the long room towards the golden gates at the far end of it. As they drew closer, the men saw that the gates had been blasted open by what looked to be an extremely powerful spell. They passed the now-empty security desk, and rushed through the dented gates that were currently hanging from their hinges haphazardly, hoping they would find Mundungus before he could apparate out again.

They kept running down the hallway that lead to the lifts at top speed, praying that one would be functional. Mr. Weasley arrived at the button plaque first, and began jabbing the down button with his pointer finger violently. “Come on, come on” he snarled, as he watched the dial above the doors of the lift nearest them slowly turning to the large “A”. “What floor do you think he’d head to?” asked Charlie, as his father was still attacking the buttons on the wall. Mr. Weasley ignored him, and Bill walked forward, stepping in front of his dad to halt his assault on the wall. “Which floor?” repeated Charlie in a louder tone.

Mr. Weasley turned to look at his four sons. He looked each in the eye, looking each over in turn. Bill, his oldest, was still handsome, despite the scars Greyback had left on his strong face. The werewolf in him had caused him to grow stronger, making him an even more worthy opponent in a fight. Charlie stood next to him, nearly a head shorter, although still tall. He had shining burn scars on his forearms, from his work with dragons in Romania. Then there were the twins. Both were muscular with a medium build, along with long fiery-red hair and intense blue eyes, just like their dad. Mr. Weasley grinned inwardly at this, but was shaken back to reality at the sound of gears grinding, announcing the approach of the lift.

Finally, the grilles in front of them slid away, and the lift doors opened. Bill rushed in first, followed by his brothers and finally his father, who turned and stabbed the number nine on the inner wall. When he turned back to the boys, Mr. Weasley had a grave look on his face. “Now boys,” he began slowly, looking at them as the lift slowly moved down to the basement corridor. “I think Mundungus is under the Imperio Curse. Do you all remember the prophecy Vol… You-Know-Who was after?” The men nodded, and Mr. Weasley pressed on. “Well there was another record of it, that’s being kept in the Department of Mysteries. We just heard tell of it after Dumbledore died last summer, from a spy in the Ministry. And you can bet that Voldemort heard about it too. And even though we were able to greatly diminish him and his followers, he still managed to survive. And somehow he’s gotten to Dung. He’s still after that prophecy, and he needed some way to get to it. But why Mundungus, and how he got to him, I don’t know. But what we need to focus on here is apprehending Mundungus. Moody said we should try to bring him back alive to question him properly, when I heard from him before you lot got here, but let me stress this: if it comes down to it, I don’t care if you kill him, just so long as you make it out alive. Do you understand?”

His sons all nodded, and turned towards the doors as the lift slowed to a halt. Bill caught his father’s eye, and smiled in a reassuring way. He stepped forward towards the open door, and slowly peered around the corner of the lift. The hallway was eerily empty, and the torches that usually bathed the hall in light were extinguished so the hall was left black. The door at the end of the corridor stood slightly ajar, and a pale light trickled through the crack, penetrating the darkness.

Bill turned back towards his family, and motioned for them to follow him. The five of them set off at a run, heading towards the open door. They pushed through it, and it banged against the wall behind them. Behind the door there was a circular room, lined with doors all around it. The one directly to their right was standing carelessly ajar, and a shimmering mist was seeping out of it, slowly and deliberately. Fred pushed it open gingerly, as he was closest. The men were instantly greeted by a blinding light, as if they’d walked onto the surface of the sun. Once their eyes had adjusted, they were able to make out what was in the room.

The walls were lined with bookshelves, full to the brim with papers and books, as well as littering the air and floor around the shelves. Arthur’s first thought was that the room was a library; this would have mad sense too, if there hadn’t been a massive glowing mist floating a few feet in the air. The room seemed to be in a time warp; the papers drifting down from the shelves were hovering almost in mid-air for lengthy stretches of time. Then, a silvery jet would snake out from the swirling mass of fog in the middle of the room and tap one of the papers. The paper would then rocket towards the ground, only to stop and float in midair once more, almost as if it were in wait for the mist to tap it again. The process seemed never-ending, for as soon as a paper would reach the ground, it would get scooped up by the fog and placed once again atop a bookshelf.

Arthur looked around at his sons lazily; they, like him self, had become transfixed with the mist’s odd actions. He was becoming languid; Arthur suspected the mist had something to do with it, but he didn’t really care. He felt as if he didn’t care for anything anymore, like the whole world was right, when suddenly a stack of papers and books came crashing down to the floor, interrupting his daydreaming. Arthur’s sons were jolted back to reality as well by the loud noise.

A scruffy head of ginger hair appeared out of the fog, followed by the body of none other than Mundungus Fletcher.

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