Chapter 208- Portkey to Adventure!

{Great Scotland Yard, London}

{12th July 1991} 

{Rigel's POV}

I glance upward at the slate-gray London sky, low-hanging clouds threatening rain as we gather around the battered old red telephone booth that serves as our entrance to the Ministry of Magic. It stands incongruously in the bustling street, unnoticed by the Muggles who hurry past, oblivious to the magic concealed right before their eyes. Most likely the result of a Muggle-repelling ward, as their eyes simply glided over our general direction.

Harry sways slightly beside me, looking pale and queasy from our recent Apparition. Sirius steadies him gently, placing a firm, reassuring hand on his godson's shoulder.

"Still struggling, Harry?" Sirius asks softly, a playful grin flickering across his features. "Your father never enjoyed Apparition much either, you know."

Harry managed a weak smile, rubbing his forehead. He answered, "If I'd known it would always feel like being squeezed through a tube, I'd have stuck with getting here on my broom. Hell, even a London taxi wouldn't be as bad."

Ginny giggles beside me, her vibrant red hair whipping lightly in the breeze. She ducked her head away upon noticing her amusement had broken through.

I smile, stepping into the booth first, "Alright, I'll go first. Let's hurry up before we attract attention. Squeeze in, everyone—someone, and shut the door tightly."

It's a comical scene as eight of us press into the cramped space—Harry flattened against the glass, Ron and Ginny wedged between Fred and George, who are cheerfully stepping on each other's toes. Arthur's eyes were glued to the cars that were driving by, while Molly fussed anxiously over Ginny's tangled scarf. The struggle lasted for a bit before I noticed a pulse of mana erupt from the booth, and the walls expanded.

'A space expansion charm?' I thought, maybe something like that could have been integrated into the ward.

'Still, did it make enough space based on our numbers, a ward that recognises how many mana signatures are in the booth?'

Sirius purposefully pushed into Harry and joked, breaking me out of my thoughts, "Not exactly first-class travel, is it?"

"Rigel," Harry mutters faintly, clearly uncomfortable, "you remember the code, right?"

I nod, leaning past Fred to grip the old-fashioned dial. "Six… two… four… four… two," I say, carefully rotating the dial, spelling out M-A-G-I-C with each number.

'Not really a code now, is it?'

Instantly, the booth hums to life. A crisp, cool voice speaks clearly through the speaker grille. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and purpose."

Taking a breath, I reply clearly, "Rigel Black and companions—scheduled Portkey travel to Mumbai, International Travel Department, Fourth Floor."

There's a brief pause, followed by a soft jingling sound as polished silver badges drop neatly from a slot. Harry eagerly grabs them, distributing each to their rightful owner. While my badge had my name printed, the rest of them all had their identity assigned as Rigel Black's companions.

The floor jolts suddenly beneath our feet, sending Harry stumbling into Sirius again. Sirius chuckles quietly, steadying him. "Hang on, Harry. Don't want to arrive with bruises before the trip even starts."

Harry grimaces, leaning back against the booth. "Next time, maybe we just take the floo from Leaky Cauldron."

Fred grins broadly. "Trust me, mate, you don't want to do that, imagine coming out of a toilet. Plus, you spin through the whole journey, ain't that right, Dad?"

Arthur nods, his excited eyes leaving the cars driving past. "Yes, plus not all of us can go through that way. This is a visitor entrance for a reason."

With a gentle hum, the booth sinks downward, darkness enveloping us briefly as we pass through layers of stone and earth. Then, we slowly emerge into a dark hallway, the walls made of dark-colored bricks. The door opens with a soft click to reveal the sprawling Atrium of the Ministry.

The Atrium stretches impressively before us, bustling with wizards and witches hurrying about their daily business dressed in dark robes. Memo planes zip overhead, folding themselves into different shapes of planes and birds, and disappearing swiftly through gleaming elevators. Polished black marble floors reflect the dazzling golden statues at the room's center—an elaborate fountain depicting a wizard, witch, centaur, goblin, and house-elf standing in harmonious yet somewhat improbable unity.

I studied the statues critically, shaking my head slightly. Fred elbows George lightly. "Think that goblin's grin has gotten bigger?"

George nods sagely. "Probably planning to run off with everyone's Galleons."

As we approach the security checkpoint on the other end, I hear Harry muttering to himself, clearly still feeling nauseous. I gently nudge him forward, whispering, "Almost done. Just one more magical transport after this."

Harry sighs, looking faintly green. "That doesn't exactly comfort me, Rigel."

The security wizard at the desk eyes us with mild boredom. "Wands out, please."

One by one, we place our wands onto the brass instrument before him. Harry first—his wand hums softly before the guard nods, reading aloud, "Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather. Registered to Harry Potter." He pauses briefly, eyebrows rising slightly before resuming his bored expression.

My turn next, and the instrument vibrates subtly. "Thirteen inches, yew, dragon heartstring. Rigel Black."

Fred and George approach simultaneously, identical smirks on their faces, placing their nearly indistinguishable wands down at the same time. "Interesting," the guard mutters dryly. "Identical cores and lengths, registered Fred and George Weasley. Cleared... Don't blow anything up."

"No promises," Fred murmurs cheerfully.

Molly shoots them a stern look. "Behave yourselves."

'Their reputation has broken through the shell of Hogwarts rumor mill, it seems.'

After Molly, Arthur, Ron, Ginny, and Sirius's wands are swiftly cleared, we regroup and approach the elevators, joining a crowd of Ministry workers clutching papers and briefcases that occasionally snap irritably. Inside the lift, Harry immediately presses himself against the wall, gripping the railing as the elevator we are in travels in six different directions.

"I never realized there were so many forms of magical transportation that could make you sick," Harry groans softly.

Ron pats his shoulder sympathetically. "It gets easier with practice."

Harry offers him a skeptical look. "If you say so."

I consult the letter again, ignoring Harry's distress. "The Portkey will activate in approximately twenty minutes. We should hurry."

The elevator jolts gently, doors sliding open on the fourth floor. The International Travel Department bustles energetically, filled with witches and wizards queuing impatiently. We navigate the labyrinthine corridors, finally arriving at a tidy, official-looking office labeled clearly: International Portkey Departures.

A tall, bespectacled wizard approaches, clipboard in hand. "Sirius Black's group, I presume?"

I nod confidently. "Yes—scheduled Portkey to Mumbai."

He scans his list quickly. "Excellent. All identity and security checks cleared. Your Portkey activation is precisely—" he glances at his watch, "eight minutes from now."

Ginny almost vibrates beside me. "It's finally happening, Rigel."

"It is," I reply warmly, feeling her enthusiasm ripple through the group.

The official gestures toward a brass elephant statuette placed atop a carved wooden pedestal. Intricate Sanskrit runes trace its surface, glowing faintly in the artificial lighting. "Gather around the Portkey," he instructs. "You must all maintain physical contact with it thirty seconds before activation."

We quickly cluster around the pedestal, each positioning a finger on the cool metal. Molly fusses anxiously with Ginny's scarf one final time, whispering in her ear the whole time, her emotions a jumbled mess of anxiousness and fear. Meanwhile, Sirius maintains a reassuring grip on Harry's shoulder. Fred and George exchange mischievous looks, undoubtedly plotting their next prank.

Harry's fingers tremble slightly against the Portkey. "Sirius, this really is safe, right?"

Sirius smiled reassuringly. "Perfectly safe. Much easier than Apparition, I promise."

"Worst case scenario," Ron interjects with exaggerated cheer, "you land face-first in the Arabian Sea."

Harry groans quietly. "Thanks, Ron. That helps."

"Thirty seconds!" the official calls out firmly.

We tense instinctively, counting silently. My heart races in excitement, fingers tightening around the statuette.

"Ten seconds!" he announces clearly. "Everyone hold tight."

Ginny grins eagerly. "Here we go."

"Five seconds!" the official counts steadily. "Four… three… two… one!"

The world twists abruptly around me, a sharp tug pulling from my navel as colors blur wildly past. Harry's yelp echoes faintly through the rushing wind, followed by Sirius's laughter as our bodies hurtle toward a destination thousands of miles away.

The Portkey's magic envelops us entirely, whisking us away from the Ministry's marble halls toward an unknown destination—where new adventures, mysteries, and friendships await beneath a foreign sun.

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AN: Summer adventure begins.