Dumbledore comes and leads them to the Ministry in the dead of night. It’s silent and abandoned. They pass through halls like perfectly cut obsidian, gleaming and dark, and they are strangely familiar to Harry. He tries to shake it off, but fear clings to him. He is not ready for any sort of fight, let alone one with Voldemort. He’s still recovering, despite being released from the hospital. His body is weak, his soul cracked, if not broken. His growth’s been stunted even. He still looks like a child, a sickly one.