Magical Pets, Rats, and Testing (I)

The benches along the street were packed, but no one was resting. Everyone was looking in the same direction—the northern stretch of Diagon Alley, where, after turning left from Gringotts and passing Flourish and Blotts, about two hundred steps ahead stood a black oak door that had never once been opened.

The door had appeared three days ago. No one had seen how it arrived, and no one had seen who installed it. The night before, it had still been an ordinary grimy brick wall plastered with several outdated advertisements. By the following morning, it had become a towering door with gleaming black lacquer and a harpy crest set into its handle.

Above the lintel hung a bronze sign engraved in gilded letters: Nirvana Research Center · Magical Pet Exhibition Hall.

The news spread faster than Floo Powder. Hogwarts students sent letters home by owl, parents passed word through the Floo Network, Ministry of Magic employees whispered in break rooms, and Daily Prophet reporters camped outside the door for an entire day, but no one could get in. The door was locked, the windows were black, and two wizards in gray robes and raven masks stood outside, motionless as statues.

Some tried to open the door with spells, but the magic struck the door and vanished without a sound. Others tried to slip inside under a Disillusionment Charm, only to be shoved back by an invisible force the moment they reached the entrance. They hit the ground, turned deathly pale when they climbed back up, and fled in a panicked scramble.

On the third day, the door opened.

It did not open slowly or solemnly. At exactly nine in the morning, it was yanked wide from the inside, revealing a brightly lit hall carpeted in deep red, its walls covered