Although he could feel his thoughts becoming clearer and his body
feeling less sluggish with each passing moment, Harry knew that he
was in a tight spot. He was heavily outnumbered, still weakened by
whatever had been done to him, and seemingly at the mercy of the
Death Eaters.
The one advantage he did have was that Malfoy and his cohorts
believed him to be under the influence of the Imperius Curse and
able to offer no resistance without his wand.
Harry had to stop himself from smirking as he realised that whoever
had disarmed him had not thought to check for any other weapon.
The Elder Wand was still up his other sleeve, something he took
much comfort in.
Still, the odds were certainly stacked against him, and as he was led
through the Hall of Prophecies, he continued to ponder how he could
both turn the situation to his advantage and escape with his life.
"The greatest threat to the Dark Lord," a woman snickered.
"Do not let his youth fool you, Bellatrix," Lucius warned. "There is
more to Potter than meets the eye. Why do you think our Lord
insisted he be incapacitated before he was brought to us."
"He is a boy!" Bellatrix protested.
Harry's jaw clenched.
He had been warned by many about Bellatrix Lestrange. She had
become quite deranged before Azkaban, and Harry doubted years
with the Dementors had done much good for her sanity.
"A boy who survived the odds when he should have perished,"
Lucius reminded her. "Barty warned our master that Potter is beyond
the norm with a wand."
"He does not have a wand," Bellatrix reminded him.
"And for that, we should be grateful," Lucius murmured. "Ah, here we
are. Come along, Potter, fetch the prophecy and hand it to me.
Remember," he added to the other Death Eaters, "we are to do this
without drawing attention to ourselves. We get the prophecy and we
leave."
Bellatrix muttered something Harry could not hear, but he was
cheering internally.
If they wished to complete their task without drawing attention to
themselves, they would be sorely disappointed.
Without a word, Harry approached the shelf Malfoy was pointing at
and gazed upon the attached label.
S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D
Dark Lord and
(?)
Harry Potter
Harry did not know what the question mark represented, nor did he
have time to think about it.
"Give it to me, Potter!" Lucius commanded forcefully.
Swallowing deeply, Harry reached for the orb, relief flooding him as
he felt the ease with which his limb moved.
All that remained was to continue the façade of being under the
effects of the curse when in reality, the only struggle Harry was
enduring was whatever the primal magic was that he felt surging
through him.
He could not be certain if it was part of the basilisk magic that had
become part of his own, or even the thunderbird.
Perhaps it was both?
Regardless, it was raw, and burned within him as he fought to keep it
at bay until an opportune moment.
It was as though the Death Eaters were watching him with bated
breath as his hand closed over the orb and Harry knew then just how
badly they wished to obtain it.
They would be taking the prophecy to Voldemort over his dead body,
which was very much a possibility, after all.
One thing Harry knew for certain was that he would not be handing it
to them.
He needed to hear it for himself.
"Good, now give it to me," Lucius whispered.
Harry turned towards the man and extended his arm, only to pause
as he could no longer hold back the grin he had been fighting.
"You lot and Voldemort can go and fuck yourselves."
The split second of shock that froze the Death Eaters in place was
all Harry needed to slide the Elder Wand into his hand and spring
into action.
A loud explosion rent the air as he unleashed his chosen spell, and
the shelves either side of him collapsed inwards.
He didn't know if or how many of the cloaked figures he had
managed to hurt, but what he did know was that he needed to get
out of there.
The one drawback he had not considered was just how he would do
that.
Where was the exit?
Not wanting to waste time, Harry ran in the opposite direction to the
destruction he had caused, making it only a dozen or so feet before
the spells and shouting began to follow.
Evidently, he had not taken out as many of the Death Eaters as he
had hoped.
"DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!" Malfoy roared.
Harry pocketed the prophecy as he rounded the first corner, reading
the sign perched on one of the shelves.
"Row ninety-seven," he groaned to himself, running to the left where
the numbers descended.
The exit surely had to be near the first row, didn't it?
Harry knew not, but he decided to follow his logic as the Death
Eaters continued to pursue him, shouting expletives and sending
curse after curse in his direction.
"HE MUST NOT BE KILLED!" Malfoy shouted after Harry had
ducked a killing curse that someone had cast at him, destroying
another of the shelves.
"Bloody hell," he muttered.
It had been too close for comfort.
He had survived it once before, but he had his doubts that he could
do so again.
"Give it to me, Potter!" a voice growled from next to him, pulling
Harry from his thoughts.
He turned to see a Death Eater seemingly flying beside him, but a
ball of fire from the tip of his wand sent the man on his way with an
agonised scream.
"Forty," Harry murmured as he read the sign on another row of
shelves as he passed them.
Another curse barely missed him, throwing up shards of stone from
the floor that dug into his back.
He winced but did not miss a step as he kept running.
With forty more rows to clear, Harry wasn't sure if he would make it
without falling victim to one of the Death Eaters.
All he knew was that he could not stop running.
To do so would be foolish, and he would only find himself surrounded
and he doubted that, even with the Elder Wand, he could take on so
many foes at once.
Not that he wouldn't make it as difficult as he could for them, but he
was up against some of the best that Voldemort had to offer, and
those that found themselves in such a position, rarely lived to tell any
about it.
The trembling of the walls and floor around him were what pulled him
from his slumber and Sturgis Podmore frowned in confusion at his
current predicament.
He had not remembered falling asleep, but it was difficult to
remember much with how much his head was pounding.
It was another explosion that pulled him from his thoughts and he
shot to his feet.
It had come from within the Department, but Albus had not shown
them how to access it beyond remaining vigilant in the corridor that
led there.
"Bugger," he muttered as he heard shouting in the distance and the
sounds of more spell fire.
Reaching for his wand, he realised he did not have it and the panic
he already felt intensified.
He needed to reach Albus, but how?
The only solution he could think of would be to reach one of the
many fireplaces within the Ministry itself and hope he was in his
office.
As the voices drew nearer, he ran as quickly as his legs would carry
him out of the corridor and he hurried into the elevator, frantically
pressing the button for the atrium, hoping there was a guard on duty
at this late hour.
There wasn't, but spotting the public fires only a short distance away,
he sprinted towards the closest one and threw a handful of floo
powder into the dying embers.
"Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office!" Sturgis said desperately, his gaze
shifting towards the golden elevator he had just left.
Here, he could not hear any of the commotion occurring below, and
Sturgis did not know whether that was a good thing or not.
"What is the problem, Sturgis?" the concerned voice of Albus spoke.
Sturgis had never been so relieved to see Dumbledore, despite the
panic he still felt.
"Albus, something is happening in the department," he explained
hurriedly. "I heard explosions and shouting, and someone has stolen
my wand!"
Albus's expression became grave.
"Remain where you are," he instructed firmly. "I will rally the Order.
Do you have any idea how many are there?"
Sturgis shook his head.
"Several," he answered apologetically.
With a nod, Albus's head vanished, and Sturgis felt no more of the
relief.
Instead, it was dread that gripped him as he watched the elevator,
and as he did so, he would swear that he could hear and feel yet
more explosions coming from the floors beneath him.
Having made it to the end of the rows of shelves and bursting
through the exit, the relief that Harry felt was short-lived. He now
found himself in an enormous circular room with a dozen or so doors
lining the wall.
"Bloody hell," he grumbled, sealing the door he had just entered
through with an advanced locking charm.
It wouldn't keep the Death Eaters out for long, but it would give him
some much-needed time.
"That one," he decided, running towards the door directly opposite.
The sound of spells smashing against the door he had locked
followed him, and as he entered the next room, he heard his
pursuers spill into the one he had just left.
"FIND HIM!" Lucius Malfoy commanded.
Harry took a few breaths as he took in his new surroundings, aware
that at any moment, he could be discovered.
"What the hell is this place?" he murmured to himself as he looked
for an exit.
Dotted around the room were various oddities; statues that were
spilling sand on the ground that was quickly sucked back up, what
appeared to be a well in the centre of the room, and even a tank with
an overly large brain floating in water.
Whatever these things were, Harry had no intention of going near
them.
They were in the secret department for a reason, and he did not wish
to find out why for himself.
Crossing the room, he did find another door, but again, he was
seemingly no closer to finding his way out as he pushed it open.
Instead, it was another room, this one filled with large jars of sand
and an array of pendants.
Time turners.
Harry had never seen one in person before, but he had read about
them.
Time travel was a dangerous undertaking, so it made sense that it
would be the Unspeakables that studied it.
"He has to be in here!" a voice growled from somewhere behind him.
Quietly, but as quickly as he could, Harry entered the next room
which turned out to be much larger than the others.
It resembled the amphitheatres he had visited in Greece when he
was a child. Rows of stone benches stretched around the room,
ascending to the very top where the exits were.
In the very centre of the room was a large archway, the mere sight of
it sending a shiver down his spine.
Even though the magic pouring off of it felt familiar, whatever that
was, Harry knew should be avoided.
Still, it was as though dozens of voices were speaking to him from
within, and though he could not make out the words, he had no
doubt they were offering warnings.
With a shake of his head, Harry ran towards the nearest flight of
steps that led towards one of the exits above, only to pause as the
door burst open and he found himself confronted by one of the
Death Eaters.
"HE'S IN HERE!" the man roared, aiming a rather nasty concussion
hex at Harry who returned it towards the caster, following it up with
cleaving hex.
The Death Eater screamed as the latter caught him just below the
knee, and he tumbled down the flight of stone steps he was stood
upon, bereft of one of his legs.
Not that he would miss it.
A loud snap sounded, and his body fell limp before he reached the
bottom, his neck now resting at an unnatural angle.
He would not be screaming in such a bloodcurdling way again.
Before Harry had time to seize any advantage from his foe's
misfortune, several of the doors above him burst open, and in only a
matter of seconds, he found himself surrounded once more by
cloaked figures.
"Give me the prophecy, Potter," Lucius Malfoy demanded. "There is
nowhere else for you to run."
He was right.
Even the door he had entered the large room via was now guarded,
and even if Harry could kill the Death Eater there, he would not make
it through in time to avoid the attacks of so many enemies.
Besides, he had grown tired of running.
With a nod to himself, he removed the glass orb from within his
robes.
"You're right," he sighed. "There is nowhere else to run, but that
doesn't mean I'm going to be handing anything to you. Why don't
you come and get it?" he urged.
"With pleasure," Bellatrix replied. "CRUCIO!"
Harry stepped out of the line of fire and Bellatrix raised her wand
again.
"NO!" Malfoy commanded. "It could break you stupid woman. Potter,
I am only going to ask you once more. Hand the prophecy over and
we will allow you to leave."
Harry snorted.
They may not be able to kill him themselves, but they were not going
to let him leave. The only advantage that remained was that he had
what they so desperately wanted.
If he gave that up, then he had nothing to bargain.
"Bollocks to that," he chuckled darkly. "I'd still rather you come and
get it yourselves."
Releasing a deep breath, he turned on the spot as he waved his
wand and a protective ring of blue flames erupted around him.
Gellert had been particularly proud of this spell and Harry could see
why.
"GET HIM!" Malfoy ordered.
One of the Death Eaters charged towards him, only for the fire to
reduce them to ash before he could reach Harry.
"What is that?" one of the other masked figures asked worriedly.
"IT DOESN'T MATTER, WE NEED THE PROPHECY!" Malfoy
roared, brandishing his wand as he attempted to stifle the flames.
The others joined in with the effort and Harry shook his head as he
resisted their efforts to breach his defence.
It was the first time he had used it in a confrontation, and he was far
from proficient with it.
He made a note to himself to practice with it more so that it could be
used to its full potential.
Nonetheless, despite not having mastered it, the fire served to keep
the Death Eaters at bay, and now all Harry had to do was find
another advantage.
He could not rely on this stalemate lasting indefinitely, and he was
still outnumbered by a dozen or so to one.
"What did Albus actually say?" Sirius questioned as he and Remus
ran towards the entrance of the Ministry.
The werewolf shot him a look of disapproval.
He had urged Sirius to remain at Grimmauld Place.
The Ministry of Magic was the last place he should be, after all.
Sirius, however, had grown tired of being stuck in the house he had
always hated, and if what little information he had gotten from
Remus already was true, he would be needed.
"Not much," Remus huffed. "Just that Sturgis heard explosions and
voices coming from the department."
"So, it could be nothing?"
Remus shrugged as he opened the door to the phone box and
dialled the number.
A moment later, the two men were descending into the atrium of the
Ministry where the Order was already gathering.
"What are you doing here, Black?" Moody growled irritably.
"The same as the rest of you," Sirius replied simply. "Where's
Albus?"
Even before Moody could reply, one of the nearby fireplaces burst
into life and Dumbledore emerged from within, his wand drawn and
his expression uncharacteristically severe.
He shot Sirius a frown but made no comment on his presence.
"Come," he instructed. "I have a feeling that this will not be such a
peaceful excursion."
Sirius followed the rest of the members of the Order, staying close to
both Remus and Albus who led them to a golden elevator.
"What was that?" Kingsley questioned, drawing his wand as a
scream sounded from somewhere below them.
The others followed suit, none offering the auror an answer.
Silently, they passed through a series of corridors until they reached
a circular, stone room where they were confronted by several doors.
"Bloody hell, it's hot in here," Bill Weasley commented.
"The heat is coming from this room," Albus explained, a frown of
curiosity marring his features.
Pushing the door open, Sirius gasped as an uncomfortable heat
washed over him, but it was something that became far-flung from
his mind as he took in the scene before him.
Death Eaters were spread throughout the room attempting to bring
an eerily blue fire under control, but it was the person standing in the
centre of the flames that made the man balk.
"HARRY!" he shouted, pointing needlessly towards his godson.
It was with mixed emotions that Harry realised the members of the
Order of the Phoenix had arrived. He was relieved that he now had
some assistance in dealing with the Death Eaters, but equally
concerned that he saw Sirius amongst them.
Along with this, he knew he could no longer rely on his flames as a
form of defence.
He had conjured them with only the intent of protecting him, and they
would not be prejudiced in immolating the members of the Order.
Still, he was grateful.
The longer the battle between himself and Voldemort's best
continued, the more likely it was they would have eventually broken
through.
Already Harry had been caught with a rather nasty cutting curse that
had sliced deeply into his ribs and he'd had to take a moment to
cauterize it with the tip of his wand.
Nevertheless, it appeared that the fighting was only now truly
beginning.
Seeing that most of the Death Eaters were now engaged with the
members of the Order, Harry vanquished his flames before throwing
himself into the fray, coming to Sirius's aide as he attempted to fight
off a pair of masked figures.
Despite the Order having come, they were still outnumbered.
"Nice one, James!" Sirius praised as Harry sent one of the Death
Eaters sprawling with a bone-splintering curse that caught his
opponent on the collar bone.
Sirius too ended his fight quickly, blasting the remaining Death Eater
across the room.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry demanded as he blocked
a spell sent his way.
"I'm here to help," Sirius replied with a grin.
Harry could only shake his head as he returned the gesture, ducking
below a bright orange curse sent towards him.
With a flick of his wand, a canon-like blast sounded and the caster
was caught in the chest by Harry's offering.
The man screamed as he collapsed to his knees, only to be sent
skidding across the stone floor by Sirius's follow up spell.
"WATCH OUT!" Harry shouted as another Death Eater attempted to
curse his godfather in the back.
With a wave of his wand, Sirius was sent out of the path of the spell
and Harry deftly swatted it away.
"You do have some tricks," a woman's voice cooed. "I like tricks.
Come and play, Potter."
The woman removed her mask to reveal the familiar face of one of
the Death Eaters that had been freed from Azkaban.
Bellatrix Lestrange was an exceedingly dangerous witch with a
reputation to match any born to the Black family in recent history.
With a nod, Harry obliged, but it was Sirius that sprang into action,
snapping a whip of flame towards his cousin.
Bellatrix giggled as she simply stepped away from it.
"I do not think you want to play with me, Sirius," she warned
mockingly. "I would hate to have to kill a member of my own family."
"I wouldn't," Sirius growled in response.
As the two began casting spells towards one another, Harry quickly
found himself caught up in another fight, this time with a Death Eater
much more skilled than any other he had faced thus far.
The man's duelling stances and footwork were exceptional, and his
wand work as fluid as any Harry had seen, so much so that he
struggled to keep up with the man.
"Just give me the prophecy, Potter!" his foe growled, sending a trio of
debilitating spells as he spoke.
"Piss off," Harry returned, blocking the spells before sweeping his
wand across his body.
The floor between them erupted into a shower of stone which he
banished towards the Death Eater.
A groan of pain sounded through the cloud of dust, and Harry
pounced.
Shifting into his wolf form, he closed the distance between them, and
seized the Death Eater by the throat.
Biting down with all his might, Harry felt the warm blood fill his mouth
as he tore at the flesh, stilling the man in only a matter of seconds.
Reverting back into his human form, he looked for another opponent,
only to see the Death Eaters making their retreat.
It would not do well for them to be caught here, and though there
was no doubt that they would be punished for failing to obtain the
prophecy, fleeing was preferable for them.
"BELLA, COME!" Lucius called from the top of one of the stone
stairways, fending off an attack from Moody who was hobbling after
them.
Harry could almost feel the pout that the woman sported, but she
reluctantly began following the others, though not before firing a
rather vicious blasting curse towards a seemingly injured Sirius.
Harry felt his blood run cold as his godfather failed to raise his wand
to defend himself, but as he could only watch on helplessly, another
spell collided with Bellatrix's, preventing Sirius from being sent
through the archway Harry had avoided.
His eyes widened as he looked up to see a furious Cassie stalking
across the room from the very door he had entered.
For a moment, Bellatrix looked worried, but she smiled as she
backed away towards where the other Death Eaters were exiting the
room.
"Run back to your master, girl," Cassie called after her. "He cannot
protect you forever."
Bellatrix opened her mouth to reply but was pulled roughly by who
Harry believed was Lucius Malfoy who slammed the door shut after
them.
"How did you know I was here?" Harry whispered as he pulled
Cassie into a hug.
The woman said nothing but nodded towards the approaching
Dumbledore.
"I thought it best to send for her when I saw it was you that had
caused the disturbance."
"It wasn't me," Harry defended. "Someone brought me here against
my will."
Dumbledore frowned.
"From Durmstrang?"
Harry nodded.
"I heard one of them mention a Barty."
"Barty Crouch Jr, I would presume," Dumbledore sighed. "I must say,
Harry, I am very impressed with how well you defended yourself, and
I know a certain someone who will be rather smug that you chose to
wield his magic."
"It seemed like a useful spell for the moment."
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, "but perhaps we should leave this
place. I do not expect we will be treated favourably by any who might
happen upon us here."
"What about the dead?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore deflated as he looked around the room.
From what Harry could see, a few members of the Order had been
injured, but none had lost their lives.
The Death Eaters that had not been killed had fled, leaving four of
their own within the room, two of which Harry had killed, and another
having been consumed by his fire.
"Are there others?"
Harry shrugged.
"Most likely in the Hall of Prophecies. I made quite a mess in there."
Dumbledore nodded his understanding.
He made no secret that he did not agree with Harry killing
Voldemort's followers, but he did not attempt to chide him for it.
Not that he would with Cassie here.
"I suppose we should leave them," the Hogwarts headmaster sighed.
"Perhaps they will draw attention away from any other that may have
been here. Come, Harry. I expect you will need to see a healer. I'm
sure Madam Pomfrey will be happy to accommodate you."
Harry shook his head.
"I appreciate the offer, but I have to get back to Durmstrang. I'm
fine," he added to the scowling Cassiopeia.
"You will not be going back there with a Death Eater in the school!"
she snapped. "You will leave that to me. I will handle it. Sirius, you
will keep him with you. He is not to leave your company until I say
otherwise."
The man nodded, wincing as he hobbled towards Harry.
Cassiopeia shot the teen a look of warning before activating a
portkey and vanishing from within the Ministry.
"How did she do that?" Harry asked as the assembled members of
the Order made their way out of the room.
Dumbledore was frowning thoughtfully.
"I expect that the Death Eaters needed to compromise the
protections in place so that they could enter without any being aware
of them having done so," he answered.
Harry nodded his understanding as his eyes roamed over the Order
members.
Some were limping and being assisted by the others, and the rest
seemed to have fared well in the fighting.
Moody in particular seemed to be invigorated by the experience, if
the grin he wore was anything to go by.
"You did well, Harry," Sirius praised. "They would both be proud of
you."
Harry snorted as he shook his head.
"I didn't plan for this to happen." He assured his godfather.
Well, that was not entirely true, but he had not intended to visit the
Hall of Prophecies under such circumstances.
"I know, kid," Sirius murmured as he ruffled Harry's hair, "and thanks
for having my back in there."
"She really did a number on you, didn't she?"
Sirius nodded.
"She always was the best of us," he huffed. "There's not many
people that could face her and live to tell the tale. What was that blue
fire?"
"Just a spell I picked up."
"That's quite some spell," Remus commented as he joined them in
the golden lift. "How many did you get with it?"
"Only one with that, but I think I got three or four others at least."
Remus whistled appreciatively.
"As impressive as it is, we are just glad that you're okay," Sirius
broke in, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulder.
The group exited the elevator and entered the atrium where the was
no sign that any had been alerted to what had happened below.
"How will the Unspeakables react?" Harry asked Dumbledore.
"I expect they will be furious, but it is unlikely that what transpired
this evening will be made known to any. The department operates in
secrecy, Harry, and that means in every capacity."
Harry nodded his understanding.
Although this was certainly not how he had envisioned obtaining the
prophecy, he now had it, nonetheless.
Still, his thoughts were not occupied by the glass orb within his
robes, but by just what Cassiopeia would do when she made it to
Durmstrang.
Did she even know how Barty Crouch had gotten into the school?
Harry had his own thoughts on the matter, but the only possibility did
not offer any comfort.
Cassiopeia, however, was no fool.
She would not act unless she was certain of what she was doing,
and there was a small part of Harry that felt pity for Barty Crouch.
His Aunt was not a woman to cross, and the fact that the man had
the sheer audacity to do what he had and placed Harry in mortal
peril would not be lost on Cassie.
No, the man would undoubtedly suffer a most unfortunate
experience, and remembering just what had happened here, any
empathy Harry may have felt was all but forgotten now.
The hidden tunnel into the school that Gellert had told her about was
thick with dust, and only one other faded pair of footprints had
disturbed this place, likely since the school had been built.
Gellert believed that it was the very first headmaster of Durmstrang
that had created the entrance, and that whomever it was had told no
other of its existence.
As such, it had remained undiscovered for centuries.
Cassiopeia cursed under her breath as she continued on her way.
Her anger at what had happened had not begun to abate, but she
knew she needed to be careful.
This was not her domain, and the school was very much under the
control of the very man she suspected to be responsible.
If Igor Karkaroff was not, then he was involved at the very least.
He simply had to be.
No one could gain entry to Durmstrang without his knowledge, so he
either allowed Crouch in, or Karkaroff had been compromised in
some other fashion.
To Cassiopeia, it did not matter which.
Eventually reaching the end of the tunnel, she found the brick Gellert
had spoken of and traced an arch-like shape with the tip of her wand
before touching the very centre.
With the sound of scraping stone, a narrow opening formed and she
stepped into what she recognised as the Main Hall of the school.
Her steps did not pause as she cast a disillusionment charm on
herself.
Although it was the early hours of the morning, she did not wish to
be detected, and with that in mind, she carefully but quickly made
her way towards where she remembered the headmaster's office
was.
Much to her relief, she reached it without being hindered, but with
the mood she was currently in, she truly felt for any who would dare
even attempt it.
"Who is it?" the voice of Igor Karkaroff called even before she could
knock.
Why was the man not in bed?
Cassiopeia's jaw clenched.
He was waiting for news of what had happened at the Ministry.
"It is Cassiopeia Black," she replied. "I was sent for by Professor
Sidorova. She explained that Harry has been injured."
There was only a moment of silence before Karkaroff replied.
"Of course, Miss Black. Give me just a minute so I can make myself
decent. The hour is quite late."
Cassiopeia frowned, her grip tightening on her wand as she listened
to the movement within room.
It was the clicking of the lock of the door that spurred her into action,
and after only a few attempts, she managed to gain entry to the
office, only to be met by the sight of a man who was not Igor
Karkaroff jumping out of the window having offered her a smug grin.
Cassie swore as she peered out of the opening into the darkness
below.
The man was gone, and despite how frustrated she was that he had
escaped, she had not given him much time to do so which meant
that he had likely left some evidence behind.
The first thing that grabbed her attention was a goblet on the table,
and as Cassie sniffed the contents, she grimaced at the familiarity of
it.
"Polyjuice," she murmured.
That meant that Karkaroff was still alive, or had been until few
moments ago.
He would need to be kept close so that his hair could be gathered
regularly.
A search of the rest of the main office did not turn up anything else,
and even though Cassiopeia Black had witnessed many unpleasant
things during her years at war, nothing could have prepared her for
what she found when she managed to open the locked cupboard.
She pinched her nose immediately to prevent herself vomiting from
the stench alone, but amongst the faeces within the small room was
the broken, emaciated, and almost hairless form of Igor Karkaroff.
He had been tortured and was missing several fingers from each
hand.
Cuts, scars, and bruises littered his body, and even one of his eyes
had been gouged out.
Were it not for the fact that the remaining one was staring at her with
abject fear, Cassie would have assumed he was dead.
She released a deep breath as she looked upon the pitiful remnants
of the man.
Seeing that it was not his tormentor returning to inflict more pain
upon him, Karkaroff began to sob uncontrollably and Cassiopeia
could only shake her head.
There was nothing she could do to him that hadn't already been
done, and for once, she took pity on the man, even if it was only to
be absent of the unbearable smell within the room.
The Dark Lord paced slowly in front of the Death Eaters he had
entrusted to ensure the prophecy was in his possession.
Evidently, this had been a mistake on his part.
He could not risk attending himself as he was still doing his utmost to
remain in the shadows, but he had planned for this meticulously and
it should have been an easy undertaking for his followers.
He frowned as he realised some were missing, but that was
something that could be addressed later.
It was not currently as pressing as an explanation of what had
occurred.
"What happened?" he whispered dangerously.
"Potter was not subdued correctly, My Lord!" Lucius replied.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the man.
He did not tolerate pathetic excuses.
"Potter is a boy," the Dark Lord pointed out. "Are you telling me that
he bested all of you?"
"He did no such thing!" Bellatrix protested.
"Be quiet, Bella," Voldemort hissed. "I was asking Lucius."
The woman fell silent and Lucius swallowed deeply.
"He caught us unawares, My Lord," he replied. "I do not know what
went amiss. I am sorry, My Lord, it will not happen again."
Voldemort's nostrils flared.
"Barty?"
From within the shadows of the corner of the room, the tired man
emerged wearing an expression of displeasure.
"I gave Potter enough of the potion to control a giant," he growled. "I
even ensured that he was injured before he was sent to them, My
Lord," Barty explained.
He was telling the truth, and Voldemort's gaze shifted back towards
the nervous Lucius.
"Not only did you fail in retrieving the prophecy, but you also returned
with less of you," he whispered dangerously.
"My Lord, Potter killed them. We did not know…"
" CRUCIO!"
The Malfoy lord crumbled to the ground where he writhed and
screamed for several seconds under the effect of the curse.
"There is no excuse that will satisfy me," Voldemort spat as he
relented. "Bellatrix, you will provide me with a memory of what
happened. Now, get out of my sight!"
Without another word, the Death Eaters hurried from the room after
the woman had complied and the Dark Lord took a seat by the fire.
He needed the prophecy, and it had been his plan to obtain it and kill
Potter in one fell swoop, but neither had been achieved.
The boy was a problem.
In truth, it mattered not what Barty had done, nor that Lucius had
failed. What concerned the Dark Lord was just how his plan had
gone so catastrophically awry when it had been concocted and
executed so meticulously.
Potter.
For the first time since he had risen, Lord Voldemort felt a pang of
concern regarding the boy.
Barty had kept him informed of his observations, and though Potter
had evidently proven himself to be quite the duellist and even
practitioner of magic, there had been no cause for worry until this
evening.
Potter had somehow escaped the clutches of his best followers, and
even killed Travers, Mulciber, and Selwyn in the process.
The Dark Lord frowned to himself as he held up the vial provided by
Bellatrix.
He needed to see for himself what had transpired.
Not that it would change anything, but he needed to see just what it
was that Potter possessed that had seen him live to see another day.
It was an exhausted Harry that took a seat on the edge of the bed in
the room that Kreacher had prepared for him in Grimmauld Place.
The note he had received from Cassiopeia only a few moments prior
had been vague, and hurriedly written.
Crouch fled, and Karkaroff is in a bad way. I will explain when I come
to collect you later. Get some rest.
Cassie x
Harry could not even begin to fathom just what had happened that
had led to him being taken to the Department of Mysteries.
With the excitement over, the tiredness and aches and pains had set
in leaving him in no condition to ponder such things.
He needed to rest, but he had waited until he'd received the note to
even consider it and had even managed to avoid a lengthy
conversation with Dumbledore in the process.
It was clear that the man had many things he wished to ask, but
much to Harry's relief, he had resisted the urge to press him for
information.
Not that he would have gotten what he wanted.
Sirius had all but kicked everyone out of Grimmauld Place the
moment they had returned, and any notion that Dumbledore had of
speaking with Harry was quickly forgotten.
Harry had been left in the company of his godfather who had been
attended to by a reluctant Kreacher, and Remus who had chosen to
swig from a bottle of Firewhiskey.
They had spoken little of what had happened, something that Harry
appreciated.
He did not wish to speak of it, not until he had time to process it for
himself.
He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he removed his robes, frowning as
they hit the floor with a dull thud.
The prophecy.
He had yet to listen to it and as he retrieved it from his pocket, he
looked upon the glass orb.
It was such an inane object, but something that had come to shape
his life to what it was now, and what it would be in the future.
Despite how tired he felt, and what little clarity he possessed, he
knew he would get no sleep until he heard the words in their entirety
for himself.
' The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ...
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month
dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have
power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of
the other for neither can live while the other survives ...'
Harry immediately reached for the scar upon his brow as he
chuckled.
He would need to consider the words further, but he had heard
nothing that gave him concern.
He already wanted Voldemort dead; a sentiment shared for him by
his foe.
In all, the prophecy was quite meaningless other than confirming that
one of them would indeed have to die at the hands of the other.
Nonetheless, despite changing nothing, it only made everything feel
that much more real, that even if he wished to, he could not escape
what was coming.
Not that such a thought would cross Harry's mind.
Even after what he had experienced and endured this evening his
resolve had not wavered.
If anything, what had happened in the Department of Mysteries had
only steeled it and made Harry more determined to see it through
until the very end.
No matter what that would be.