Harry felt the others close in around Ginny; he stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest.
‘You’ll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us,’ he told Bellatrix. ‘I don’t think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?’
She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.
‘So,’ said Harry, ‘what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?’
He could not think what to do but to keep talking. Neville’s arm was pressed against his, and he could feel him shaking; he could feel one of the others’ quickened breath on the back of his head. He was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because his mind was blank.
‘What kind of prophecy?’ repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. ‘You jest, Harry Potter.’
‘Nope, not jesting,’ said Harry, his eyes flicking from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through which they could escape. ‘How come Voldemort wants it?’
Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.
‘You dare speak his name?’ whispered Bellatrix.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, maintaining his tight grip on the glass ball, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from him. ‘Yeah, I’ve got no problem with saying Vol––’
‘Shut your mouth!’ Bellatrix shrieked. ‘You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your halfblood’s tongue, you dare –’
‘Did you know he’s a half-blood too?’ said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. ‘Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle – or has he been telling you lot he’s pure-blood?’
‘STUPEF––’
‘NO!’
A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered.
Two figures, pearly-white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak; their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix’s shouts.
‘… at the solstice will come a new …’ said the figure of an old, bearded man.
‘DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!’
‘He dared – he dares –’ shrieked Bellatrix incoherently, ‘he stands there – filthy half-blood –’
‘WAIT UNTIL WE’VE GOT THE PROPHECY!’ bawled Malfoy.
‘… and none will come after …’ said the figure of a young woman.
The two figures that had burst from the shattered spheres had melted into thin air. Nothing remained of them or their erstwhile homes but fragments of glass upon the floor. They had, however, given Harry an idea. The problem was going to be conveying it to the others.
‘You haven’t told me what’s so special about this prophecy I’m supposed to be handing over,’ he said, playing for time. He moved his foot slowly sideways, feeling around for someone else’s.
‘Do not play games with us, Potter,’ said Malfoy.
‘I’m not playing games,’ said Harry, half his mind on the conversation, half on his wandering foot. And then he found someone’s toes and pressed down upon them. A sharp intake of breath behind him told him they were Hermione’s.
‘What?’ she whispered.
‘Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?’ Malfoy sneered.
‘I – what?’ said Harry. And for a moment he quite forgot his plan. ‘What about my scar?’
‘What?’ whispered Hermione more urgently behind him.
‘Can this be?’ said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, ‘Smash shelves –’
‘Dumbledore never told you?’ Malfoy repeated. ‘Well, this explains why you didn’t come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why –’
‘– when I say now –’
‘– you didn’t come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording …’
‘Did he?’ said Harry. Behind him he felt rather than heard Hermione passing his message to the others and he sought to keep talking, to distract the Death Eaters. ‘So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?’
‘Why?’ Malfoy sounded incredulously delighted. ‘Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him.’
‘And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?’
‘About both of you, Potter, about both of you … haven’t you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill you as a baby?’
Harry stared into the slitted eye-holes through which Malfoy’s grey eyes were gleaming. Was this prophecy the reason Harry’s parents had died, the reason he carried his lightning-bolt scar? Was the answer to all of this clutched in his hand?
‘Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?’ he said quietly, gazing at Lucius Malfoy, his fingers tightening over the warm glass sphere in his hand. It was hardly larger than a Snitch and still gritty with dust. ‘And he’s made me come and get it for him? Why couldn’t he come and get it himself?’
‘Get it himself?’ shrieked Bellatrix, over a cackle of mad laughter. ‘The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?’
‘So, he’s got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?’ said Harry. ‘Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it – and Bode?’
‘Very good, Potter, very good …’ said Malfoy slowly. ‘But the Dark Lord knows you are not unintell—’
‘NOW!’ yelled Harry.
Five different voices behind him bellowed, ‘REDUCTO!’ Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit; the towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor –
‘RUN!’ Harry yelled, as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to fall from above. He seized a handful of Hermione’s robes and dragged her forwards, holding one arm over his head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them. A Death Eater lunged forwards through the cloud of dust and Harry elbowed him hard in the masked face; they were all yelling, there were cries of pain, and thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves, weirdly echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres –
Harry found the way ahead clear and saw Ron, Ginny and Luna sprint past him, their arms over their heads; something heavy struck him on the side of the face but he merely ducked his head and sprinted onwards; a hand caught him by the shoulder; he heard Hermione shout, ‘Stupefy!’ The hand released him at once –
They were at the end of row ninety-seven; Harry turned right and began to sprint in earnest; he could hear footsteps right behind him and Hermione’s voice urging Neville on; straight ahead, the door through which they had come was ajar; Harry could see the glittering light of the bell jar; he pelted through the doorway, the prophecy still clutched tight and safe in his hand, and waited for the others to hurtle over the threshold before slamming the door behind them –
‘Colloportus!’ gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.
‘Where – where are the others?’ gasped Harr
y.
He had thought Ron, Luna and Ginny were ahead of them, that they would be waiting in this room, but there was nobody there.
‘They must have gone the wrong way!’ whispered Hermione, terror in her face.
‘Listen!’ whispered Neville.
Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed; Harry put his ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar, ‘Leave Nott, leave him, I say – his injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Jugson, come back here, we need to organise! We’ll split into pairs and search, and don’t forget, be gentle with Potter until we’ve got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary – Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left; Crabbe, Rabastan, go right – Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead – Macnair and Avery, through here – Rookwood, over there – Mulciber, come with me!’
‘What do we do?’ Hermione asked Harry, trembling from head to foot.
‘Well, we don’t stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start,’ said Harry. ‘Let’s get away from this door.’
They ran as quietly as they could, past the shimmering bell jar where the tiny egg was hatching and unhatching, towards the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. They were almost there when Harry heard something large and heavy collide with the door Hermione had charmed shut.
‘Stand aside!’ said a rough voice. ‘Alohomora!’
As the door flew open, Harry, Hermione and Neville dived under desks. They could see the bottom of the two Death Eaters’ robes drawing nearer, their feet moving rapidly.
‘They might’ve run straight through to the hall,’ said the rough voice.
‘Check under the desks,’ said another.
Harry saw the knees of the Death Eaters bend; poking his wand out from under the desk, he shouted, ‘STUPEFY!’
A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater; he fell backwards into a grandfather clock and knocked it over; the second Death Eater, however, had leapt aside to avoid Harry’s spell and was pointing his own wand at Hermione, who was crawling out from under the desk to get a better aim.
‘Avada –’
Harry launched himself across the floor and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing him to topple and his aim to go awry. Neville overturned a desk in his anxiety to help; and pointing his wand wildly at the struggling pair, he cried:
‘EXPELLIARMUS!’
Both Harry’s and the Death Eater’s wands flew out of their hands and soared back towards the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy; both scrambled to their feet and charged after them, the Death Eater in front, Harry hot on his heels, and Neville bringing up the rear, plainly horrorstruck by what he had done.
‘Get out of the way, Harry!’ yelled Neville, clearly determined to repair the damage.
Harry flung himself sideways as Neville took aim again and shouted:
‘STUPEFY!’
The jet of red light flew right over the Death Eater’s shoulder and hit a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall full of variously shaped hour-glasses; the cabinet fell to the floor and burst apart, glass flying everywhere, sprang back up on to the wall, fully mended, then fell down again, and shattered –
The Death Eater had snatched up his wand, which lay on the floor beside the glittering bell jar. Harry ducked down behind another desk as the man turned; his mask had slipped so that he couldn’t see. He ripped it off with his free hand and shouted: ‘STUP––’
‘STUPEFY!’ screamed Hermione, who had just caught up with them. The jet of red light hit the Death Eater in the middle of his chest: he froze, his arm still raised, his wand fell to the floor with a clatter and he collapsed backwards towards the bell jar. Harry expected to hear a clunk, for the man to hit solid glass and slide off the jar on to the floor, but instead, his head sank through the surface of the bell jar as though it were nothing but a soap bubble and he came to rest, sprawled on his back on the table, with his head lying inside the jar full of glittering wind.
‘Accio wand!’ cried Hermione. Harry’s wand flew from a dark corner into her hand and she threw it to him.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Right, let’s get out of –’
‘Look out!’ said Neville, horrified. He was staring at the Death Eater’s head in the bell jar.
All three of them raised their wands again, but none of them struck: they were all gazing, open-mouthed, appalled, at what was happening to the man’s head.
It was shrinking very fast, growing balder and balder, the black hair and stubble retracting into his skull; his cheeks becoming smooth, his skull round and covered with a peachlike fuzz …
A baby’s head now sat grotesquely on top of the thick, muscled neck of the Death Eater as he struggled to get up again; but even as they watched, their mouths open, the head began to swell to its previous proportions again; thick black hair was sprouting from the pate and chin …
‘It’s Time,’ said Hermione in an awestruck voice. ‘Time …’
The Death Eater shook his ugly head again, trying to clear it, but before he could pull himself together it began to shrink back to babyhood once more …
There was a shout from a room nearby, then a crash and a scream.
‘RON?’ Harry yelled, turning quickly from the monstrous transformation taking place before them. ‘GINNY? LUNA?’
‘Harry!’ Hermione screamed.
The Death Eater had pulled his head out of the bell jar. His appearance was utterly bizarre, his tiny baby’s head bawling loudly while his thick arms flailed dangerously in all directions, narrowly missing Harry, who had ducked. Harry raised his wand but to his amazement Hermione seized his arm.
‘You can’t hurt a baby!’
There was no time to argue the point; Harry could hear more footsteps growing louder from the Hall of Prophecy and knew, too late, that he ought not to have shouted and given away their position.
‘Come on!’ he said, and leaving the ugly baby-headed Death Eater staggering behind them they took off for the door that stood open at the other end of the room, leading back into the black hallway.
They had run halfway towards it when Harry saw through the open door two more Death Eaters running across the black room towards them; veering left, he burst instead into a small, dark, cluttered office and slammed the door behind them.
‘Collo—’ began Hermione, but before she could complete the spell the door had burst open and the two Death Eaters had come hurtling inside.
With a cry of triumph, both yelled:
‘IMPEDIMENTA!’
Harry, Hermione and Neville were all knocked backwards off their feet; Neville was thrown over the desk and disappeared from view; Hermione smashed into a bookcase and was promptly deluged in a cascade of heavy books; the back of Harry’s head slammed into the stone wall behind him, tiny lights burst in front of his eyes and for a moment he was too dizzy and bewildered to react.
‘WE’VE GOT HIM!’ yelled the Death Eater nearest Harry. ‘IN AN OFFICE OFF––’
‘Silencio!’ cried Hermione and the man’s voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. He was thrust aside by his fellow Death Eater.
‘Petrificus Totalus!’ shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forwards, face down on to the rug at Harry’s feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.
‘Well done, Ha––’
But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand; a streak of what looked like purple flame passed right across Hermione’s chest. She gave a tiny ‘Oh!’ as though of surprise and crumpled on to the floor, where she lay motionless.
‘HERMIONE!’
Harry fell to his knees beside her as Neville crawled rapidly towards her from under the desk, his wand held up in front of him. The Death Eater kicked out hard at Neville’s head as he emerged – his foot broke Neville’s wand in two and co
nnected with his face. Neville gave a howl of pain and recoiled, clutching his mouth and nose. Harry twisted around, his own wand held high, and saw that the Death Eater had ripped off his mask and was pointing his wand directly at Harry, who recognised the long, pale, twisted face from the Daily Prophet: Antonin Dolohov, the wizard who had murdered the Prewetts.
Dolohov grinned. With his free hand, he pointed from the prophecy still clutched in Harry’s hand, to himself, then at Hermione. Though he could no longer speak, his meaning could not have been clearer. Give me the prophecy, or you get the same as her …
‘Like you won’t kill us all anyway, the moment I hand it over!’ said Harry.
A whine of panic inside his head was preventing him thinking properly: he had one hand on Hermione’s shoulder, which was still warm, yet did not dare look at her properly. Don’t let her be dead, don’t let her be dead, it’s my fault if she’s dead …
‘Whaddever you do, Harry,’ said Neville fiercely from under the desk, lowering his hands to show a clearly broken nose and blood pouring down his mouth and chin, ‘don’d gib it to him!’
Then there was a crash outside the door and Dolohov looked over his shoulder – the baby-headed Death Eater had appeared in the doorway, his head bawling, his great fists still flailing uncontrollably at everything around him. Harry seized his chance:
‘PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!’
The spell hit Dolohov before he could block it and he toppled forwards across his comrade, both of them rigid as boards and unable to move an inch.
‘Hermione,’ Harry said at once, shaking her as the baby-headed Death Eater blundered out of sight again. ‘Hermione, wake up …’
‘Whaddid he do to her?’ said Neville, crawling out from under the desk to kneel at her other side, blood streaming from his rapidly swelling nose.
‘I dunno …’
Neville groped for Hermione’s wrist.
‘Dat’s a pulse, Harry, I’b sure id is.’
Such a powerful wave of relief swept through Harry that for a moment he felt light-headed.
‘She’s alive?’
‘Yeah, I dink so.’
The Order of the Phoenix Page 77
