A long hall and a peacock-blue ceiling inlaid with golden symbols. They really had some nerve, recreating the Atrium at the Ministry. The floor beneath her bare feet wasn’t hardwood, though. It was covered in plush carpets. Everywhere, dark fog. Writhing and pulsating. She could barely make out anything from where they had stopped right in front of the doors, while Draco checked the instructions scroll. What did pierce the fog were the moans and the screams. Gut-wrenching, heartbreaking screams. 