"The Anti-Disapparition Charm of the Ministry of Magic covers the basement level ten..." Lucius's serpent-headed cane struck the floor with a crisp sound, and a three-dimensional model of the Ministry of Magic rose from the ebony table. "Every corridor is swarming with alchemical beetles sniffing out dark magic, and the Department of Mysteries' Hall of Prophecy has had a protective barrier cast over it by Dumbledore himself..."
Riddle splashed red wine onto the model, the liquid turning into a bloody mist as it touched the phantom. "So how is our cute little Potter going to get in? Ride a steed of the Silver Gleam Knights and crash through the roof?"
Ith casually flicked away a sharp chandelier fragment, the glass shards condensing into a holographic map of London in midair. Dense red dots spread across the map like a plague. "Hundreds of Aurors dispatched from various countries..." His silver eyes reflected the points of light, as if the fires of war across the entire city were burning within his pupils. "Like vultures catching the scent of rotting flesh, circling the skies above London."
Chapter 239