Neville did so – Harry heaved – Neville’s legs were still flying in every direction, they would not support him, and then, out of nowhere, a man lunged at them: both fell backwards, Neville’s legs waving wildly like an overturned beetle’s, Harry with his left arm held up in the air to try to save the small glass ball from being smashed.
‘The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!’ snarled Lucius Malfoy’s voice in his ear, and Harry felt the tip of Malfoy’s wand pressing hard between his ribs.
‘No – get – off – me … Neville – catch it!’
Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Neville spun himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Neville, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, ‘Impedimenta!’
Malfoy was blasted off his back. As Harry scrambled up again he looked around and saw Malfoy smash into the dais on which Sirius and Bellatrix were now duelling. Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Neville again, but before he could draw breath to strike, Lupin had jumped between them.
‘Harry, round up the others and GO!’
Harry seized Neville by the shoulder of his robes and lifted him bodily on to the first tier of stone steps; Neville’s legs twitched and jerked and would not support his weight; Harry heaved again with all the strength he possessed and they climbed another step –
A spell hit the stone bench at Harry’s heel; it crumbled away and he fell back to the step below. Neville sank on to the bench above, his legs still jerking and thrashing, and he thrust the prophecy into his pocket.
‘Come on!’ said Harry desperately, hauling at Neville’s robes. ‘Just try and push with your legs –’
He gave another stupendous heave and Neville’s robes tore all along the left seam – the small spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and, before either of them could catch it, one of Neville’s floundering feet kicked it: it flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both of them stared at the place where it had broken, appalled at what had happened, a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by any but them. Harry could see its mouth moving, but in all the crashes and screams and yells surrounding them, not one word of the prophecy could he hear. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness.
‘Harry, I’b sorry!’ cried Neville, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder. ‘I’b so sorry, Harry, I didn’d bean do –’
‘It doesn’t matter!’ Harry shouted. ‘Just try and stand, let’s get out of –’
‘Dubbledore!’ said Neville, his sweaty face suddenly transported, staring over Harry’s shoulder.
‘What?’
‘DUBBLEDORE!’
Harry turned to look where Neville was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body – they were saved.
Dumbledore had already sped past Neville and Harry, who had no more thoughts of leaving, when the Death Eaters nearest realised Dumbledore was there and yelled to the others. One of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore’s spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line –
Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix’s jet of red light: he was laughing at her.
‘Come on, you can do better than that!’ he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.
The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.
Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He jumped to the ground, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore, too, turned towards the dais.
It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch.
Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather’s wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place.
Harry heard Bellatrix Lestrange’s triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing – Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second …
But Sirius did not reappear.
‘SIRIUS!’ Harry yelled. ‘SIRIUS!’
Harry’s breath was coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out …
But as he sprinted towards the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back.
‘There’s nothing you can do, Harry –’
‘Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!’
‘– it’s too late, Harry.’
‘We can still reach him –’ Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go …
‘There’s nothing you can do, Harry … nothing … he’s gone.’
— CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX —
The Only One He Ever Feared
‘He hasn’t gone!’ Harry yelled.
He did not believe it; he would not believe it; still he fought Lupin with every bit of strength he had. Lupin did not understand; people hid behind that curtain; Harry had heard them whispering the first time he had entered the room. Sirius was hiding, simply lurking out of sight –
‘SIRIUS!’ he bellowed. ‘SIRIUS!’
‘He can’t come back, Harry,’ said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. ‘He can’t come back, because he’s d––’
‘HE – IS – NOT – DEAD!’ roared Harry. ‘SIRIUS!’
There was movement going on around them, pointless bustling, the flashes of more spells. To Harry it was meaningless noise, the deflected curses flying past them did not matter, nothing mattered except that Lupin should stop pretending that Sirius – who was standing feet from them behind that old curtain – was not going to emerge at any moment, shaking back his dark hair and eager to re-enter the battle.
Lupin dragged Harry away from the dais. Harry, still staring at the archway, was angry at Sirius now for keeping him waiting –
But some part of him realised, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before … Sirius had risked everything, always, to see Harry, to help him … if Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back … that he really was –
Dumbledore had most of the remaining Death Eaters grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilised by invisible ropes; Mad-Eye Moody had crawled across the room to where Tonks lay, and was attempting to revive her; behind the dais there were still flashes of light, grunts and cries – Kingsley had run forward to continue Sirius’s duel with Bellatrix.
‘Harry?’
Neville had slid down the stone benches one by one to the place where Harry stood. Harry was no longer struggling against Lupin, who maintained a precautionary grip on his arm nevertheless.
‘Harry … I’b really sorry …’ said Neville. His legs were still dancing uncontrollably. ‘Was dad man – was Sirius Black a – a friend of yours?’
Harry nodded.
‘Here,’ said Lupin quietly, and pointing his wand at Neville’s legs he said, ‘Finite.’ The spell was lifted: Neville’s legs fell back to the floor and remained still. Lupin’s face was pale. ‘Let’s – let’s find the others. Where are they all, Neville?’
Lupin turned away from the archway as he spoke. It sounded as though every word was causing him pain.
‘Dey’re all back dere,’ said Neville. ‘A brain addacked Ron bud I dink he’s all righd – and Herbione’s unconscious, bud we could feel a bulse –�
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There was a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. Harry saw Kingsley hit the ground yelling in pain: Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran as Dumbledore whipped around. He aimed a spell at her but she deflected it; she was halfway up the steps now –
‘Harry – no!’ cried Lupin, but Harry had already ripped his arm from Lupin’s slackened grip.
‘SHE KILLED SIRIUS!’ bellowed Harry. ‘SHE KILLED HIM – I’LL KILL HER!’
And he was off, scrambling up the stone benches; people were shouting behind him but he did not care. The hem of Bellatrix’s robes whipped out of sight ahead and they were back in the room where the brains were swimming …
She aimed a curse over her shoulder. The tank rose into the air and tipped. Harry was deluged in the foul-smelling potion within: the brains slipped and slid over him and began spinning their long coloured tentacles, but he shouted, ‘Wingardium Leviosa!’ and they flew off him up into the air. Slipping and sliding, he ran on towards the door; he leapt over Luna, who was groaning on the floor, past Ginny, who said, ‘Harry – what –?’, past Ron, who giggled feebly, and Hermione, who was still unconscious. He wrenched open the door into the circular black hall and saw Bellatrix disappearing through a door on the other side of the room; beyond her was the corridor leading back to the lifts.
He ran, but she had slammed the door behind her and the walls were already rotating. Once more, he was surrounded by streaks of blue light from the whirling candelabra.
‘Where’s the exit?’ he shouted desperately, as the wall rumbled to a halt again. ‘Where’s the way out?’
The room seemed to have been waiting for him to ask. The door right behind him flew open and the corridor towards the lifts stretched ahead of him, torch-lit and empty. He ran …
He could hear a lift clattering ahead; he sprinted up the passageway, swung around the corner and slammed his fist on to the button to call a second lift. It jangled and banged lower and lower; the grilles slid open and Harry dashed inside, now hammering the button marked ‘Atrium’. The doors slid shut and he was rising …
He forced his way out of the lift before the grilles were fully open and looked around. Bellatrix was almost at the telephone lift at the other end of the hall, but she looked back as he sprinted towards her and aimed another spell at him. He dodged behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren: the spell zoomed past him and hit the wrought-gold gates at the other end of the Atrium so that they rang like bells. There were no more footsteps. She had stopped running. He crouched behind the statues, listening.
‘Come out, come out, little Harry!’ she called in her mock baby voice, which echoed off the polished wooden floors. ‘What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!’
‘I am!’ shouted Harry, and a score of ghostly Harrys seemed to chorus I am! I am! I am! all around the room.
‘Aaaaaah … did you love him, little baby Potter?’
Hatred rose in Harry such as he had never known before; he flung himself out from behind the fountain and bellowed, ‘Crucio!’
Bellatrix screamed: the spell had knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Neville had – she was already back on her feet, breathless, no longer laughing. Harry dodged behind the golden fountain again. Her counter-spell hit the head of the handsome wizard, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor.
‘Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?’ she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. ‘You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain – to enjoy it – righteous anger won’t hurt me for long – I’ll show you how it is done, shall I? I’ll give you a lesson –’
Harry was edging around the fountain on the other side when she screamed, ‘Crucio!’ and he was forced to duck down again as the centaur’s arm, holding its bow, spun off and landed with a crash on the floor a short distance from the golden wizard’s head.
‘Potter, you cannot win against me!’ she cried.
He could hear her moving to the right, trying to get a clear shot of him. He backed around the statue away from her, crouching behind the centaur’s legs, his head level with the house-elf’s.
‘I was and am the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant. I learned the Dark Arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete –’
‘Stupefy!’ yelled Harry. He had edged right around to where the goblin stood beaming up at the now headless wizard and taken aim at her back as she peered around the fountain. She reacted so fast he barely had time to duck.
‘Protego!’
The jet of red light, his own Stunning Spell, bounced back at him. Harry scrambled back behind the fountain and one of the goblin’s ears went flying across the room.
‘Potter, I’m going to give you one chance!’ shouted Bellatrix. ‘Give me the prophecy – roll it out towards me now – and I may spare your life!’
‘Well, you’re going to have to kill me, because it’s gone!’ Harry roared and, as he shouted it, pain seared across his forehead; his scar was on fire again, and he felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with his own rage. ‘And he knows!’ said Harry, with a mad laugh to match Bellatrix’s own. ‘Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it’s gone! He’s not going to be happy with you, is he?’
‘What? What do you mean?’ she cried, and for the first time there was fear in her voice.
‘The prophecy smashed when I was trying to get Neville up the steps! What do you think Voldemort’ll say about that, then?’
His scar seared and burned … the pain of it was making his eyes stream …
‘LIAR!’ she shrieked, but he could hear the terror behind the anger now. ‘YOU’VE GOT IT, POTTER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME! Accio prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!’
Harry laughed again because he knew it would incense her, the pain building in his head so badly he thought his skull might burst. He waved his empty hand from behind the one-eared goblin and withdrew it quickly as she sent another jet of green light flying at him.
‘Nothing there!’ he shouted. ‘Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that!’
‘No!’ she screamed. ‘It isn’t true, you’re lying! MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED – DO NOT PUNISH ME –’
‘Don’t waste your breath!’ yelled Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever. ‘He can’t hear you from here!’
‘Can’t I, Potter?’ said a high, cold voice.
Harry opened his eyes.
Tall, thin and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes staring … Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stood frozen, quite unable to move.
‘So, you smashed my prophecy?’ said Voldemort softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. ‘No, Bella, he is not lying … I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind … months of preparation, months of effort … and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again …’
‘Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!’ sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer. ‘Master, you should know –’
‘Be quiet, Bella,’ said Voldemort dangerously. ‘I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your snivelling apologies?’
‘But Master – he is here – he is below –’
Voldemort paid no attention.
‘I have nothing more to say to you, Potter,’ he said quietly. ‘You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!’
Harry had not even opened his mouth to resist; his mind was blank, his wand pointing uselessly at the floor.
But the headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth to land with a crash on the floor b
etween Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms to protect Harry.
‘What –?’ cried Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed, ‘Dumbledore!’
Harry looked behind him, his heart pounding. Dumbledore was standing in front of the golden gates.
Voldemort raised his wand and another jet of green light streaked at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak. Next second, he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand towards the remnants of the fountain. The other statues sprang to life. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled towards the fireplaces set along the wall and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. The headless statue thrust Harry backwards, away from the fight, as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around them both.
‘It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom,’ said Dumbledore calmly. ‘The Aurors are on their way –’
‘By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!’ spat Voldemort. He sent another killing curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard’s desk, which burst into flame.
Dumbledore flicked his own wand: the force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Harry, though shielded by his golden guard, felt his hair stand on end as it passed and this time Voldemort was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gong-like note reverberated from it – an oddly chilling sound.
‘You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?’ called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. ‘Above such brutality, are you?’
‘We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,’ Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk towards Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. ‘Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit –’
The Order of the Phoenix Page 79
