Raven closed the door of his flat with quiet finality. He adjusted the collar of his coat and lifted the trunk that rested beside him. Despite its size and antique craftsmanship, the Louis Vuitton Monogram trunk moved easily in his grasp thanks to a subtle weight-reduction charm woven into its structure.
To anyone passing by, it would simply appear that he carried an expensive piece of luggage.
Nothing more.
When he stepped outside, the cool London air greeted him immediately.
It was early evening, and the sky carried that pale grey colour so common to the city.
Street lamps had already begun to glow faintly along the pavement, their light reflecting softly against damp stone roads.
The neighbourhood itself was quiet—rows of terraced houses standing neatly beside one another, their windows dimly lit.
Raven began walking along with his trunk. His footsteps echoed faintly along the pavement as he moved through the street with the calm composure that had become second nature to him.
A few minutes later he turned a corner and entered a narrower lane. Here the houses thinned out slightly, replaced by the backs of older brick buildings and shuttered shops. A stack of empty crates sat near a rubbish bin, and the distant hum of London traffic could be heard somewhere beyond the alley.
More importantly—
There was no one else there.
Raven paused.
His grey eyes scanned the street carefully, his gaze moving with the quiet alertness of someone long accustomed to secrecy.
Left.
Right.
Windows.
Doorways.
Nothing.
Satisfied, Raven took one final step toward the centre of the empty lane and adjusted his grip on the trunk.
Apparition was not a particularly difficult form of magic for an experienced wizard, but it demanded focus. The process required a precise mental image of the destination and a steady will.
Raven closed his eyes briefly.
The image formed easily within his mind.
He took a breath.
Then he turned on the spot.
The world twisted sharply.
For the briefest instant, Raven felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed through an impossibly narrow space—air compressing around him, gravity seeming to fold inward.
With a sharp crack, he vanished from the empty alley.
A moment later another crack echoed faintly in a different street.
Raven appeared beside the pavement as though he had simply stepped out from thin air.
He steadied himself instinctively, though the movement was subtle enough that no one nearby seemed to notice. Apparition always carried that fleeting sensation of disorientation, even for experienced witches and wizards.
This street was far busier than the one he had left. Cars moved steadily along the road. Pedestrians passed along the pavement, bundled in coats against the cool London evening.
The glow of nearby shop windows illuminated the sidewalks, and the distant rumble of buses filled the air. To them, Raven was simply another man walking through the city with an expensive trunk.
No one gave him more than a passing glance. Just as he intended.
He lifted the trunk again and began walking.
It took only a few seconds before he reached the place he had been searching for.
Standing beside the pavement was a familiar structure. A red telephone booth.
Its paint had faded slightly with age, though the iconic British design remained unmistakable. The glass panels reflected the surrounding streetlights, and the word "TELEPHONE" was printed clearly above the door in white letters.
To any Muggle, it was nothing more than a public telephone box but Raven knew better.
This was one of the discreet entrances used by the Ministry of Magic.
He approached it calmly, pulling open the door. The interior smelled faintly of metal and old wiring. The telephone receiver hung from its cord beside a small metal dial pad.
Raven stepped inside, bringing the trunk with him. The space was cramped, but manageable.
He lifted the receiver.
For a brief moment, there was only silence on the line.
Then Raven pressed several numbers into the dial.
6 – 2 – 4 – 4 – 2
The sequence spelled MAGIC.
Almost immediately, a pleasant female voice echoed through the receiver.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
Raven spoke clearly.
"Raven Shafiq. Regarding inheritance matters."
There was a brief pause.
"Thank you," the voice replied. "Visitor pass will be issued. Please attach the badge to your clothing at all times."
A small slot beneath the telephone clanked softly.
A square silver badge slid outward.
Raven picked it up.
Raven Shafiq – Visitor
He pinned it neatly to the front of his coat.
The moment the badge settled into place, the floor beneath him shifted.
The telephone booth began descending.
Slowly at first then steadily.
The glass windows darkened as the booth sank beneath the streets of London, carrying him downward through layers of stone and enchanted barriers.
Raven stood calmly as the booth moved.
Eventually, warm golden light began to filter through the glass.
The booth slowed then stopped with a soft mechanical click.The door opened automatically and Raven stepped out into the Ministry.
The Atrium of the Ministry of Magic stretched out before him like a grand underground hall.
The ceiling rose high above, enchanted to resemble a shifting sky of pale gold and drifting clouds. Polished dark wood lined the walls, while rows of tall fireplaces stood along one side where witches and wizards arrived through Floo travel.
At the centre of the hall stood a magnificent fountain.
Golden statues of witches, wizards, goblins, centaurs, and house-elves stood together in a circular basin, water cascading gently around them. The soft sound of flowing water echoed pleasantly through the chamber.
Workers moved busily across the atrium.
Some hurried toward lifts that lined the far wall—tall brass cages that moved between the Ministry's many floors. Others stood in small groups discussing paperwork or reading enchanted documents that floated beside them.
Owls occasionally swooped through the air, carrying letters between departments.
The entire place buzzed with quiet magical activity.
Raven stepped forward, the trunk floated following close behind him.
Several witches and wizards glanced briefly in his direction as he passed.
The name Shafiq still carried recognition in certain circles. Though none greeted or approach him.
He ignored their looks as he continued walking calmly across the polished floor until he reached the security checkpoint line. He waited for 3 minutes before his turn.
A wizard in dark security robes looked up as Raven arrived.
"Visitor?" he asked.
Raven inclined his head slightly.
"Inheritance matters."
"Very well," the guard replied. "Standard security inspection."
Raven nodded.
He reached into the inner lining of his coat and withdrew his wand.
The polished wood rested comfortably between his fingers.
The guard accepted it carefully and placed it against a small enchanted instrument mounted on the desk.
A soft hum filled the air.
"Let's see…" the guard murmured, examining the magical reading.
"Ten inches. Black walnut… dragon heartstring core."
He glanced up with mild interest.
"Fine wand."
Raven gave a faint smile.
"It has served me well."
The guard studied the wand for a moment longer before handing it back and look at his Vistors Badge.
"You're Raven Shafiq?"
Raven paused slightly.
"I am."
The wizard suddenly looked faintly embarrassed.
"Forgive me, sir. I recognised the name."
He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I actually read one of your books. The one about psychological grounding techniques for stress."
Raven blinked once, mildly surprised.
The guard continued.
"I work security here, long hours and all that. Used to rely on calming draughts after particularly difficult shifts."
He shifted his weight.
"But your book… well, the breathing techniques and mental structuring exercises you described."He smiled sheepishly.
"Helped quite a bit, actually. Haven't needed potions for stress in months."
For a brief moment Raven looked genuinely pleased.
"I'm glad it proved useful."
The guard handed his wand back with respect.
"Well… thank you for writing it."
Raven slid the wand neatly back into the hidden sleeve beneath his coat.
"Take the lifts over there," the guard added,gesturing across the atrium. Clearly informed about the news in the wizarding world especially about pureblood families,
"But before that, the front desk can guide you regarding inheritance matters."
Raven nodded politely.
"Thank you."
He moved toward the reception desk where a witch sat reviewing several ledgers.
She looked up as he approached.
"Yes?"
"I'm here regarding estate inheritance," Raven said calmly. "I was informed the Ministry processes the legal formalities."
The receptionist opened a ledger and flipped through several pages.
"Family name?"
"Shafiq."
Her expression shifted slightly then she glance at his visitors badge.
"Yes," she said.
"Inheritance matters related to family estates are handled by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Estates."
She closed the ledger.
"That department is located on the seventh floor."
Raven nodded.
"You may take the lifts just beyond the atrium," she added.
"They will bring you directly there."
Raven inclined his head once more.
"Thank you."
Behind him, the golden fountain continued to flow while Ministry employees moved through the vast hall like clockwork within a magical machine.
With quiet determination, Raven turned toward the brass lifts.
The matter of House Shafiq's inheritance had officially begun.
-----
TBC