Charlie left the Principal's office and Apparated to the Gryffindor common room.
He had no time to hesitate, nor to formulate any meticulous plans. Hermione's condition was unknown; every second could be the last chance.
In the Gryffindor Tower common room, Harry was sitting by the fireplace, flipping through "Quidditch Through the Ages."
Ron was slumped over a table, writing his Potion Class homework, looking miserable.
"Harry." Charlie walked up to him.
"Lend me your invisibility cloak."
Harry looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
He closed the book, didn't ask why, and stood up directly: "Wait for me."
Three minutes later, Harry came down from the dormitory with a bundle of silver fabric and handed it to Charlie.
"Be careful." Harry lowered his voice.
"Whatever you're going to do."
Charlie nodded, turned, and left.
Ron looked up, watching Charlie's back disappear at the doorway: "What's he going to do?"
"I don't know." Harry sat back down.
"But if even Charlie needs to use an invisibility cloak, it can't be a small matter."
Charlie returned to his dormitory, put on the invisibility cloak, and his figure instantly vanished from the room.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and recalled the appearance of the Ministry of Magic.
"Apparition!"
The last time he went to receive an award, he remembered that the Ministry of Magic was located beneath a street in central London, with the entrance being a dilapidated red telephone booth.
The longer the Apparition distance, the higher the difficulty and the heavier the burden on the Wizard.
Apparating from Hogwarts to London would be impossible for an ordinary Wizard.
Crossing the distance from Scotland to London, even a slight deviation midway would tear him to shreds. But Charlie's magic was already far beyond ordinary people, and this level of Apparition only made him feel a little tired.
The oppressive feeling of Apparition dissipated, and Charlie stood on a street in central London.
The dilapidated red telephone booth was ahead, and the street was empty at night.
If possible, he would have preferred to Apparate directly inside the Ministry of Magic.
However, the Ministry of Magic had anti-Apparition protective magic, and those without authorization could not Apparate in.
Charlie did not have Ministry of Magic authorization, so he could only enter normally through the telephone booth.
So he leaned against the wall next to the telephone booth and waited.
Many Wizards came and went from the Ministry of Magic every day, so someone was bound to enter or exit. Ten minutes later, a man in a suit walked over.
He looked very tired, yawned, and entered the telephone booth.
Charlie followed him in.
The space inside the telephone booth was small; Charlie stood pressed against the wall. The Wizard picked up the receiver and dialed a number.
"Ministry of Magic, visitors please state your purpose."
"Night shift, Department for the Regulation and Control of magical creatures."
"Thank you, please wear your badge."
A silver badge dropped from the coin return slot, inscribed with "Night Staff." The Wizard pinned on the badge, and the telephone booth began to descend.
Charlie held his breath; the invisibility cloak concealed his form, but if the other person suddenly turned around, they would still collide.
Fortunately, the Wizard was exhausted, keeping his head down and rubbing his temples the entire time until the elevator stopped.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, have a pleasant night's work."
The Wizard rolled his eyes, not looking very pleased.
The telephone booth door opened, and the Wizard stepped out.
Charlie followed him, entering the Ministry of Magic's atrium.
From the moment he stepped into the Ministry of Magic, the system began to relentlessly pop up alerts. Annoyed, Charlie muted the system's notification sound.
The Ministry of Magic at night was much quieter than during the day.
There were only a few scattered Wizards moving around in the atrium. In the center stood a giant golden statue—a Wizard seated on a throne, with a Witch standing beside him, and House-elves, Centaurs, and Goblins at their feet.
The Centaurs, Goblins, and House-elves all looked at the two Wizards with adoration.
It was clearly the Ministry of Magic's wishful thinking, with all races subservient to Wizards.
Charlie stood still, recalling what Dumbledore had said.
The Department of Mysteries was in the deepest part of the Ministry of Magic, on the ninth level.
He looked towards the golden gate at the end of the atrium, which was the entrance to the elevators for all levels.
Charlie walked into the elevator and pressed the button for the ninth level.
The elevator doors slowly closed and began to descend. Outside the golden gate, the Ministry of Magic atrium gradually moved upwards, disappearing from view.
But soon, the elevator stopped on the fifth level.
Charlie immediately pressed himself against the corner of the elevator, holding his breath.
Two Ministry of Magic employees in dark robes entered. One was yawning, the other carried a briefcase, looking utterly weary.
"Tonight's meeting was killer," complained the Wizard with the briefcase.
"Tell me about it," the yawning Wizard rubbed his eyes, responding casually.
They entered the elevator, their gaze sweeping over the button panel.
"Huh?" The Wizard with the briefcase paused.
"Who pressed the ninth level?"
The yawning Wizard glanced at it, shrugging: "Someone probably pressed it by mistake."
"Right." The Wizard with the briefcase pressed the button for the first level.
"Besides those Unspeakables, who wants to go down there."
"I heard some things in there are very dangerous." The yawning Wizard lowered his voice.
"Last time a new recruit accidentally touched something and was sent straight to St Mungos for three months."
The two men's conversation echoed in the elevator.
Charlie stood in the corner; the invisibility cloak perfectly concealed his figure.
The elevator continued to descend and soon reached the ninth level.
"Ding—"
The elevator doors opened, and the corridor was pitch black.
Charlie didn't hesitate and walked directly out of the elevator.
"Close the door, close the door quickly." The Wizard with the briefcase immediately pressed the close button, afraid something might crawl out of the darkness.
The elevator doors closed, and the sound of it ascending gradually faded away.
Charlie stood in the corridor of the ninth level; the surroundings were eerily silent. Torches on the walls cast flickering shadows, but could only illuminate a small circle around them. It was as if the darkness was too dense for even light to penetrate.
Ahead was a large black door, without any markings or a doorknob.
Charlie walked up and pushed the door. Unexpectedly, it opened directly.
This even surprised Charlie; he had originally thought the Department of Mysteries' door would have complex protective magic, and at least require some effort to break through.
But it opened with just a push.
Dumbledore didn't lie; for some talented Wizards, it really wasn't difficult to break through.
Even an ordinary person could break through this.
Charlie stepped inside the door.
Before him was a circular atrium, with walls, floor, and ceiling all black.
There was no one in the atrium, and twelve identical doors lined the perimeter, each black and without any markings.
Charlie stood in the center of the atrium and turned around.
Twelve doors.
Which one held the time-turner?
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