A Promise Kept - Chapter 48 - A Prophetic Meeting

A Prophetic Meeting

He breathed a sigh of relief as the reporters began taking their leave of the village, each of them satisfied that they’d secured an interview with him, and Sirius equally so that he’d managed to prevent what had happened being blow out of proportion.

Not that what had happened here tonight wasn’t beyond exceptional.

He’d seen large groups of Aurors prevent such attacks, and Dumbledore had been adept at keeping them at bay when needed, but only a couple of dozen at a time.

Harry had done the unthinkable by not only preventing an entire horde of dozens consuming the souls of the villagers but had even sent the Dementors away entirely.

It was an exceptional feat, and one he doubt few could ever hope to accomplish.

Even now, though the chill of the creatures lingered unpleasantly, it was the warmth of the magic used to disperse them that remained most prominent.

“Harry, you can come out now, they’re leaving,” Sirius announced as he rounded the rear of the church. “Harry?”

He frowned as the boy failed to appear and swallowed deeply as he caught sight of the fading lettering on wall of the building.

If you wish to see them again, you will go to the place where it is hidden and retrieve for me. If you do not know where it is, you’d best be quick in learning of it. Time is ticking, Harry Potter…

You have until midnight to arrive…

Come alone, or they die…

“Oh, shit,” he cursed. “This isn’t good.”

He immediately knew where Harry would be going, and given the nature of the message, Sirius was at a loss at what to do.

He did not doubt the words that had been written, and he knew that Harry would not forgive him or anyone else that might put any he cared about in danger.

The question was who was the they the message spoke of?

He knew that it would not be Lily, and Sturgis, the only guard, was dead, likely to ensure the department could be accessed.

Sirius shook his head as everything began to fell into place.

The Death Eaters were lying in wait for Harry to arrive, and truthfully, he was at a loss at what to do.

With a shake of his head, he did the one thing he knew was necessary and sent an emergency message to the members of the Order, not doubting that soon enough, they would be heading towards the Ministry of Magic.

To what end, Sirius Black did not know.

All he did know, however, was that Harry was in danger, and that the situation was most delicate for the boy, and whoever it was the Death Eaters had taken to coerce him to walk so willingly into their trap.

(Break)

The better part of the past months had been spent quietly, but arduously attempting to find each of the homes of Potter’s friends, assessing the protections around them, and formulating the best way of taking advantage of his findings.

Truthfully, Barty was surprised at how easy it had been, and how unprepared these people were for any considerable attempt on breaching their paltry defences.

Two of the homes were much better protected than the others but were nothing that could not be mitigated.

Barty had used the journalists credentials to his credit, had even managed to find a notebook of less than reputable, though unwitting people he could reach out to for assistance, under the guise of merely obtaining an interview with each of the teens.

His plan, thus far, had worked out perfectly, and now that the moment to act upon his efforts had arrived, he would not see them squandered by foolishness.

“Remember, this is to be done quietly, Rowle,” he reiterated. “The Dark Lord does not wish to cause more of a stir than necessary.

“I bloody well know, Crouch,” the other man growled from beneath his mask. “It’s that nutter Bella you should be worried about.”

Barty hummed.

He would sooner that Bellatrix was left out of it entirely, but she was the Dark Lord’s favourite, and none of the newer recruits were ready for such a task.

No, for this to unfold without issue, Bella was needed, much to his chagrin.

“What is that damned smell?”

“The whole place reeks. It’s in the water here.”

Barty had not developed any fondness for North Carolina, nor anywhere in America, but this was one of the worst places he had visited. The folk here were simple, almost as though they lived thirty years in the past, and the creatures here were most unpleasant.

What Potter was doing befriending a boy from such a place, he didn’t know, and he didn’t care.

His job was to ensure that Wendell Green was present in the Department of Mysteries when Potter arrived.

“It’s time,” he declared.

Fortunately, the home was isolated from the plethora of creatures the family kept, but Barty had taken no chances.

He’d brought his cloak along and had taken the extra precaution of silencing his feet, covering his scent, and ensuring none would be aware of his presence.

Approaching the house, he quietly apparated into the room of the boy, stunning him before he was aware of his presence, and casting a cushioning charm, so that his limp body would not make a sound as it hit the floor.

When it was done, he remained still, not even breathing as he listened for any indication that he’d been detected.

There were none, and Barty quickly bound the boy, and opened the window to lower him down to the waiting Thorfinn Rowle.

He was not surprised to find that the others too had succeeded, but he could not help but feel concerned that it had all come to pass without a hitch.

None had reported any significant difficulties in taking the children. Whilst Bellatrix and the others had been rather gleeful at the simplicity of the undertaking, Barty could not help but think it had been too easy, too convenient, and that the rest of the night would not go as planned.

He knew little of the Potter boy, but what he did know was that he did not seem to be the cooperative type, that he would be prepared for such an eventuality, and that those gathered among the shelves of the prophecies might just be celebrating a little too prematurely.

He shook his head of those unwelcome thoughts.

No, he had been meticulous, and no matter what Potter might just have up his sleeve, they held the advantage here, and with the lives of his friends on the line, would he risk doing something foolish simply to prevent the inevitable?

That was the pertinent question, and though Barty tried to comfort himself that all was hand, he could not ignore the niggling thoughts that continued whilst he waited for the arrival of the boy with a dozen of the Dark Lord’s very best at his side.

(Break)

“All there is to do now is wait, my lord,” Severus assured him. “Potter will show.”

“How can you be certain?”

“It’s in his blood to be a damned fool.”

The Dark Lord shook his head.

He did not doubt that luring Potter to the Department of Mysteries would be easy enough. It was what would happen upon his arrival that concerned him, which was why he was waiting for any news that something was going amiss.

He could not allow the prophecy to elude him, but he could not risk anything foolish himself.

Some might say that kidnapping American children was such, and to an extent, they would be right. However, those he had taken were from families of no consequence.

MACUSA would not risk souring relations with Britain over them.

The French, on the other hand, might just be willing to inject themselves into the brewing conflict; something the Dark Lord was not ready for. As such, he had made no effort to take the Delacour girl, or the French girl that attended Ilvermorny with Potter.

Nonetheless, there was still an inherent risk of fallout no matter what he did, and so long as he acquired the prophecy, nothing else mattered, even if he was not immediately, and directly involved in what was to come.

No, he needed to have faith in Bella and the others, even if such a thing was quite foreign to him, especially when it came to something so important.

Sitting on the side-lines was not within his nature. No, he had always been someone of action, someone who solved his own problems, and yet, here he was, cautious, careful, and waiting in anticipation to see what the night would bring.

Augustus had of course proven to be a man of his word, and had managed to access the Hall of Prophecies, but he’d equally been truthful when he’d explained that only Potter or the Dark Lord himself could retrieve the prophecy.

Entering the Ministry came with significant risk.

It was the last place he wished to be, where he could easily be seen, but should this evening necessitate it, he would not hesitate it ensure he left with the prophecy.

That was what mattered, after all.

His legacy and his future were tied into the damned ominous words spoken to the old fool so many years prior; something that had never rested easily with the Dark Lord.

Tonight, however, no matter what it took, he would have it in his possession, and soon enough, he would truly be able to resume his campaign, free of the burden of a magic he had so little understanding of.

(Break)

Forty minutes.

It was scarcely enough time to come up with any kind of plan he could find confidence in, but as ever, Harry had no choice but to work with what he’d been given.

Of course, he had considered that something like this might just happen, and had acted accordingly, but there was no denying that he would still be relying on luck when coming face to face with the Death Eaters.

Of course, the one advantage he did have was that they needed to obtain the prophecy; a bargaining tool Harry would get the most out of he could.

Not that he believed it would be enough, not to ensure the safety of his friends.

Once more, he took a deep breath in a bid to calm himself, but his temper remained boiling beneath the surface of his skin.

If Riddle was not there, would the contents of the prophecy protect him in a literal sense?

He wasn’t sure, but he was certain that the Dark Lord would wish to be the one to kill Harry, and that the Death Eaters would’ve been ordered not to attempt to do so.

Harry, however, was under no such orders.

It was a realisation that brought him little comfort, and as he entered the Hall of Prophecies with only a few moments to spare, he kept his wand firmly in hand, and every one of his senses on the highest alert.

Already, he could feel that something was amiss, that here were things among the shelves watching him that didn’t belong here.

Still, that was all they did; watch him as he navigated his way towards where he knew the prophecy no longer rested.

Of course, he had left something in its place, and as he picked up the orb that was no different to the rest, he felt the presence of others grow stronger.

“That’s it, now hand it over, Potter.”

Lucius spoke with such confidence, and yet, Harry could sense the nervousness radiating off the man.

“Bloody hell, you managed to pull your tongue out of your master’s arse long enough to come here yourself? I’m honoured, Malfoy.”

The man bristled.

“You will not think this is so amusing when your friend’s throats are slit!” he spat.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Then Voldemort will never know what this says.”

“How dare you speak his name!” a woman hissed in displeasure, aiming her wand towards him.

Harry snorted as he shook his head.

“You’re pissy because I used his fake name? I could always use his real one, if you like?” he asked. “I should’ve known you’d be here Lestrange, and yes, your husband and brother-in-law are here too. And we have Dolohov, Crabbe, Mulciber, Nott, Rookwood, Rowle, little Barty Crouch, and Snape. A group of cunts if I ever did see one.”

The Death Eaters were rather taken aback by his demeanour, and Harry knew I was not the wisest of moves to provoke them in such a way, but he needed their attention on him.

After all, he was in no danger of being killed, even if Bellatrix was all but foaming at the mouth to do so.

“Enough!” Lucius growled. “The prophecy, and we will release your friends.”

Harry shook his head once more.

“You will release them first, and I will think about giving it to you,” he retorted. “Or I could…”

He made a gesture as though he was going to throw it to the far side of the row, and the Death Eaters gasped.

“See, you thought you had me at a disadvantage, and you do when it comes to numbers, but old Tom, oh, he’ll be furious with all of you if you don’t return with this. I expect it will be a few Cruciatus Curses all round for you lot.”

“You filthy half-blood!” Bellatrix screeched, snarling as Lucius pushed her wand away as she raised.

“Bella, no, we cannot risk it being destroyed.”

Harry chuckled humourlessly.

“You mock me for being a half-blood, when you fall on your knees to one. Hell, even Snape here is a half-blood. Didn’t your mother all but give up on magic when she married him?”

He could feel Snape’s glare burning into him from beneath his mask, but Harry wasn’t done yet.

No, the mood wasn’t quite right.

“I wouldn’t feel so bad about it, Snivellus. Barty here cried for his mother when they carted him off to Azkaban. Did you know we dug her corpse up when we realised that you were still alive? Bloody hell, she didn’t half stink.”

“I’LL THROTTLE THE SWINE!” Barty roared.

Harry got more than a little satisfaction from the man’s reaction, and he shifted his attention to Bellatrix once more as four of the others attempted to restrain Barty.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt and a muggle he shares a name with,” he said with a grin. “Oh, I’m a half-blood, and very proud of it, but you follow one whose mother was an inbred who couldn’t even get a muggle to love her without using a potion on him. She died giving birth to Tom. I bet you didn’t know that, did you, Bellatrix?”

The woman was seething, the hand clutching her wand shuddering with her desire to curse him.

“And you’re the best he has to offer. Look at you all, rattled by the words of a teenager. Now, Lucius, be a good boy and fetch my friends, or I will make sure that your master never hears what he wants so desperately. Oh, and if they are harmed in any way, I can promise you that your son will suffer ten times what they have before I return his empty nutsack to you by post.”

Lucius eyed him for a moment, the night not unfolding how he’d expected, and now, all Harry could do was wait to see if what little effort he’d been able to make before coming had born fruit.

“Crabbe, fetch them, now!” Lucius instructed. “You too, Rowle.”

The others said nothing as the duo vanished amongst the shelves, and Harry twirled his wand, his gaze flitting from one to the next.

“You do know that I am going to rip his cunt head off for what he has done, don’t you?” he asked, any amusement he felt all but gone. “I’m going to mount it at the gates of my home, and every time I walk past it, I’m going to piss on it. Well, it’s not as though any of you are going to live to witness it. You see, I have made it my mission in life to put every last one of you in the ground. The one thing that you have yet to realise is that this won’t be like the last time. I am not Dumbledore. I have no intention of seeing any of you rotting in Azkaban. No, that won’t be enough for me. What you are facing now is something that your master created, an enemy that cannot be intimidated, blackmailed, or cowed. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

“Ha!” Bellatrix mocked. “You have no idea what is waiting for you.”

“Actually, I do,” Harry said with a grin. “It is your master that has no idea what is coming for him. You’re all under the illusion that I am hiding from him, that I fear him. On the contrary, I cannot wait to look him in the eyes as I destroy every last of his hopes and dreams and see the regret that he ever fucked with me.”

Before any could respond, Rowle and Crabbe returned, both confused and concerned.

“They’re gone,” the former murmured, eliciting another snigger from Harry.

“Gone?” Lucius whispered. “Gone where?”

“Oh dear,” Harry mused aloud. “Now, you have lost what little advantage you did have, haven’t you. Your master is going to be furious with you.”

“We still outnumber you, Potter!” Nott pointed out.

“True,” Harry conceded, “but is it me trapped in here with you, or you trapped in here with me?”

The entire ground trembled from the force of the spell he unleashed, and the Death Eaters were forced to protect themselves from the falling glass orbs stacked either side of them.

Knowing he only had a few seconds at best, Harry sprinted for all he was worth towards the door, ducking beneath a curse sent whizzing towards him.

“DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY!” Lucius roared desperately, and Harry immediately heard a dozen pair of feet giving chase whilst he made his escape, already knowing he would not make it out of the department before they inevitably caught up to him.

How they did that, however, was yet to be decided, and he could still seize something of an advantage.

Or could he?

Despite what happened in the coming moments, he would once more find himself facing a dozen of the most dangerous Death Eaters, and help was certainly not on the way.

At least, he didn’t think so.

(Break)

The venom in the blood was like nothing else he’d ever encountered, and it took little for Croaker to realise that it was not organic, that whatever kind of serpent had bitten the man found in the corridor of the department had been synthetically enhanced.

Worse yet was the presence of an unmistakeable magic he could sense upon inspecting the body; something he’d not encountered personally until he’d met Harry Potter.

“Damned fool,” he muttered. “What a damned fool!”

It was one thing to delve into such magic at all, let alone using a hapless creature to facilitate it.

He shook his head.

Mr Podmore had not died well.

The venom itself carried a most unpleasant curse that even the keenest minds would struggle to cure, but it could be done, though creating such would be a most unpleasant experience for the afflicted.

Not that Mr Podmore would be subjected to it. No, he was undoubtedly dead from a mixture of the curse and the potent venom he’d been injected with, yet, Clarence knew his problems were only beginning.

The murder of the man was just a distraction.

Shortly after returning to his study, he’d sensed something else quite amiss; the presence of many that should not be here, meaning that Augustus Rookwood had indeed found a way through the defences.

Clarence expected he would, just not so quickly.

Now, however, he was aware of another presence, one that could not be missed nor confused with any other.

“They’re here,” Harry Potter said grimly as he entered the study.

“They are.”

“They have some of my friends. They intend on using them to coerce me into giving them the prophecy.”

“Which you should not do.”

“No, which is why I need your help. I need you to get them out of there. Can you do that?”

“It is possible, but Mr Potter, if I am killed, the protections of the department will be compromised.”

“Aren’t they already?”

Clarence nodded.

He’d grown fond of the young man before him, and usually, he would not directly involve himself in such matters, but as the boy handed him his treasured invisibility cloak, he knew that he could not sit idly by and do nothing.

“You may have need of that,” Clarence pointed out.

Harry shook his head.

“No, you will, to find where they will be keeping them. It will be nearby, not far from them. When you have them, call for Fawkes, he will come to you to get you out of there and take you somewhere safe until I am done.”

“And if you are to die?”

The boy chuckled as he shook his head.

“It doesn’t end tonight, Croaker.”

He was so certain, confident in his assessment, and Clarence felt something of a new admiration for him. For one so young, he’d proven himself a capable wizard, adept, and seemingly fearless, but that itself had been the downfall of many before him.

He could only hope that Harry Potter proved to be different.

Still, there would be no talking him out of whatever plan he had come up with, and Clarence knew he could only play his part. He would retrieve the children, and hope that Harry Potter’s confidence in himself was well-found.

Covering himself in the cloak, he followed the boy through the labyrinth of corridors, all the way to the door of the Hall of Prophecies where the fate of many was tied.

Harry did not hesitate to enter, and Clarence followed suit, aware that the boy was being watched on all sides.

Even now, the plan seemed to be rather foolish, but he suspected it would only become more so.

A dozen.

As Harry removed the prophecy orb he’d created to replace the original, twelves masked figures emerged from the shadows, and Clarence listened only briefly to the exchange, shaking his head as Potter began quite vitriolic response to what they had done.

Why he would do it, Clarence could not understand, but he took the distraction gratefully and set out to find those that had been taken.

Being as familiar as he was with the magic of the room, it did not take him long to do so, and it was something of a relief that they were each unconscious, four in all.

Ensuring he took hold of each in some way, he braced himself for what was to come.

He’d seen Albus use the phoenix in such a way many times but had never experienced being transported by a phoenix.

“Fawkes?”

The burst of fire the bird appeared in was barely visible, and silent, much to Clarence’s relief, though he was granted less than second to appreciate it as he felt a warmth wash over him.

When he opened his eyes, he was in a rather modest dwelling, and only a singular photo that had gathered dust on the mantle gave him any indication of where he was.

This was where it had all begun for Harry Potter.

He had left the teenagers unconscious with the intent of discussing what had happened to them with Harry if and when he returned.

He would.

It was something Clarence had been repeating to himself since arriving only a few moments prior. It took a lot to put so much faith in one person, but oddly, Clarence believed in Harry Potter.

It was seldom he’d met someone like him throughout his life. Of course, he made it a point to recruit the most talented of witches and wizards in their respective fields, and Harry Potter was far from being a perfectly polished practitioner of magic, but he possessed many qualities that simply could not be taught.

Fortunately, it appeared that the teens currently under his supervision were no worse for wear, and once more, he found himself hoping that the same could be said for Harry when this night came to an end.

(Break)

“What do you mean he’s gone to the Department of Mysteries?”

“Voldemort has taken people Harry cares about, and since you and I are both here, I’m guessing it’s his friends. He intends for Harry to retrieve the prophecy for him.”

“But it isn’t there!”

“No, it isn’t,” Sirius sighed, dragging a hand though his hair, “but Voldemort doesn’t know that.”

“What the hell do we do?” Moody asked. “He’ll be furious if anything we try gets them hurt.”

“I don’t care,” Lily huffed as she stood. “My son is there, and I will not sit here and do nothing.”

“Aye, I agree.”

“Me too,” Sirius murmured, looking towards Tonks, Kingsley, and the others gathered.

In a fight most would be quite useless, but Harry’s odds would be better with their support.

“It’s quiet,” Lily murmured as they entered the atrium of the Ministry.

“Aye, and there’s no guard,” Alastor pointed out, nodding towards the unmanned desk. “He’s probably dead, along with Sturgis.”

Before Sirius could respond, the entire building seemed to shake from the force of an explosion somewhere in the bowels of the ministry.

“That would be Harry,” Lily groaned, hurrying towards the golden lift.

Sirius followed her quickly along with the others, wondering what scene of chaos they would be coming upon in the next moments.

So long as Harry was well, and his friends were safe, that was all that mattered, but given that the Dark Lord had a small circle of those he would trust with such a task, he did not need to ponder too deeply to know just who would be there.

(Break)

With all of the different types of magic being hurled around, Harry wasn’t certain who it was he was facing in what he’d come to call ‘The Brain Room’, but he doubted it was anyone with a modicum of intelligence to boast of.

The spells would not necessarily kill him, not immediately, at least, but he certainly did not wish to fall victim to them, and he could not see how any of them would have a positive impacted on the many wonders on display around them.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed as a large bell was hit with an errant curse, tearing it away from its housing.

Using it to his advantage, he banished the large piece of what appeared to be brass towards one of the two of his attackers and followed it up with a rupturing curse.

His aim was good, but his assailant managed to step out of the path of it in the nick of time, only yelp in pain as his feet were swept from underneath him.

The back of his head cracked loudly on the floor, but he remained undeterred in his efforts to retrieve the prophecy.

Hic companion seemed even more so, and fired a spell at Harry that would’ve torn his fingers from his hand had it been accurate. Instead, it crashed harmlessly into the wall just as something impacted against the door Harry had sealed behind the two that had pursued him into the room.

Knowing it would not take the other Death Eaters long to tear through his hurriedly cast protections, he fired a ball of smoke towards his attackers, and ducked out of the second door, leading into the circular room that housed the veil.

As ever, it remained eerily silent save for the incessant whispering emanating from the archway.

Now, however, instead of speaking words of warning, or echoing with the maniacal laughter he had become familiar, the whispers were fervent, excited, as though those within were anticipating something they desired.

Wasting no time, Harry hurried up one of the stone stairways, only to come to a halt as a spell ripped through them, leaving a dep, gaping hole where he would’ve been less than a second later.

Turning, he saw that half a dozen of the Death Eaters had entered the room behind him, but before he could think of changing course, the remaining three doors opened, and two more of his assailants entered from each.

“You’re surrounded, Potter. Now, give me the prophecy!” Malfoy hissed.

“Oh, you mean this?” Harry asked, holding the little glass ball aloft. “Why don’t you come and take it?”

For just a moment, the Death Eaters froze at the challenge, considering what their best course of action was. If they attacked Harry, and the prophecy broke, Voldemort would be furious with them, but if they did nothing, they would leave without what they had come for.

Well, unbeknownst to them, that was the very best they could hope for.

“For Merlin’s sake, he’s just a boy!” Bellatrix huffed, stepping forward and raising her wand, only for her eyes to widen as two of the Death Eaters stationed at one of the doorways were sent spinning through the air.

The woman that entered was seething, her green eyes flashing dangerously as she brought her wand to bear, firing curse upon curse towards the scrambling Death Eaters, undeterred by anything that was sent her way.

Sirius quickly joined Lily Potter, and the rest of the Death Eaters found themselves engaged by Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, Emmeline Vance, and Bill Weasley.

Soon after, Arthur entered the room along with Fred and George Weasley, and another redheaded male.

For Harry’s part, he kept his focus firmly on Bellatrix Lestrange, and the woman was no less determined to engage him, to which he was more than happy to oblige.

With a grin, he unleashed a plethora of spells, taking the woman aback with the speed in which he moved, and the devastating array of magic on offer. Much to her credit, she was able to defend herself from it well, and Harry immediately understood why she had been so feared and revered by Voldemort.

Despite her near fifteen-year imprisonment, she hadn’t missed a beat, and her own spell work was equally fast, equally devastating, and Harry knew he had quite the fight on his hands.

With a nod, the two of them began circling around one another, each waiting, watching the movements of their opponent closely.

Bellatrix proved to be the least patient of the two, and Harry recognised each spell of the flurry she sent towards them. He batted two of them aside, avoided the next three and returned two others towards Bellatrix, who narrowed her eyes at him.

Even after that short exchange, she seemed to think she had the measure of him, but Harry had shown her nothing yet. In response, he tested her defences once more, unleashing a barrage of a rupturing curse, a blood-boiling curse, and an unpleasant little spell that would crush her ribcage into her lungs.

Bellatrix blocked the first two, and stepped out of the path of the third, but was forced to retreat further as Harry did not relent.

Using some of the stone debris around him, he created a large bear that he set upon the woman and followed it with a wolf; a distraction at best, but something that would buy him a little time as he prepared his next offering, which came in the form of a particularly vicious curse that would rip her arms from her sockets, whilst ripping a nasty gash through her guts.

As expected, she managed to dispatch of the creatures, only suffering a scratch from the wolf as it had punced towards her, knocking her out of the path of the spell Harry had aimed into the fray.

He cursed under his breath, but he’d manage to draw blood on the woman, at least, though it only served to enrage her.

“YOU DARE, YOU FILTHY HALF-BLOOD!” she screeched.

Harry said nothing, using his own deft wandwork to dismiss her next attack.

Oh, Bellatrix was exceptional in everything she did, but his earlier assessment that the last years in prison had not been detrimental had perhaps been a little off.

She was indeed out of practice, and unlikely still fully recovered from her stint with the Dementors.

Even so, she was still a threat, and though she did not intend to kill him, she was struggling to fight with such hesitance.

Harry could see that she wanted nothing more than to mutilate him, to tear him limb from limb, but her loyalty to her master stilled her from doing so, which would work in his favour.

As much as he wanted them all dead, and as furious as the fighting around him had become, he knew he needed to stick to his plan, and for that, he needed for Bellatrix to think she had gotten away with what they came for.

It certainly didn’t help that he and the members of the Order were outnumbered.

No, he knew he needed to end this sooner rather than later, and for that, he needed to implement the next part of his plan.

(Break)

Even beneath his mask, there was no mistaking the posture and the form of his wandwork when it came to Severus Snape. Lily had been friends with the boy for the better part of five years whilst they were at Hogwarts and had come to know him well.

Learning he’d truly joined Voldemort had not angered her as she thought it might. No, she had been nothing but disappointed in someone she had thought much better of than he proved to be.

Still, he seemed reluctant to engage her, but she had no intention of letting him avoid her. No, they had never resolved their differences, and she’d never received any semblance of an explanation from him.

Not that she wanted one now.

She had given up on that notion many years ago and knowing that Severus was one of those that had acted against her son only made her temper flare.

He blocked her spells and offered little in return, only sending minor hexes and jinxes her way.

“Fight back!” Lily growled.

Severus, however, peered at her sadly from beneath his mask, and vanished only a moment later in a burst of a black fog, just in time for Bellatrix to screech delightedly.

“I got the prophecy!” she declared from the top of one of the stairways, and Lily balked at the sight of Harry charging after her as she bid a hasty retreat with the other Death Eaters hurrying to follow.

“HARRY, NO!” she called after her son, running after him, only to find that the Death Eaters that had fled had locked the doors behind them.

The resulting explosion from her blasting curse tore a considerable portion of the stonework away, and after being delayed for little more than a minute, she gave chase, chastising her son for being so damned foolhardy when there was no need to be.

The prophecy was gone, so why was he so determined to get it back?

(Break)

He fired an endless stream of curses and spells after her as he gave chase, making it believable enough that he truly wished to retrieve the prophecy from Bellatrix, but not running so hard to actually catch her.

He could if he so wished.

Harry was no slouch when it came to sprinting, and he was undoubtedly fitter than the woman who’d likely never run a day in her life.

Bellatrix could probably not believe that she had simply summoned the prophecy from within his pocket, and Harry’s acting so shocked by the sudden turn of events had been good enough to convince her that his desperation was genuine.

However, it wasn’t, but as they charged across the breadth of the atrium, he needed to continue making a show of it.

“Crucio!”

She collapsed to the ground with a shriek of pain, and Hary released the curse, giving her only a taste of what he was capable of if he so chose such an approach.

Despite her brief exposure to the torture, her breathing was laboured, but she was smiling, and eyeing him speculatively, almost with a sense of reverence.

“Oh, that was good, Potter,” she grinned as she pushed herself to her feet, but not good enough.

Her smile widened as one of the dozens of fireplaces flared into life, and all of Harry’s focus shifted to the man that entered.

He was a tall man, his skin pale and waxy, unnaturally so, and his red eyes glowed menacingly, though he seemed pleased to see Harry grasping the glass orb he had retrieved from the woman.

“You have done well, Bella,” he praised, his voice a little raspier than Harry remembered, but there was no mistaking it for any other. “Now, Harry, if you wish for those that have joined you here to live, you will hand over the prophecy.”

Harry felt his nostrils flaring, and his grip tightened around the orb.

“How about you go and fuck yourself,” he replied, spitting at the man’s feet.

Voldemort looked almost disappointed in him, and he shook his head.

“So be it,” he sighed. “I will just have to take it from you.”