mirrorball

chapter twenty

"Did he?" said Harry. Clara, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, passed Harry's message on to Ron who gladly passed it to the rest of the group. "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?"

"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. "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 on 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. Six different voices behind him bellowed "REDUCTO!" Six curses flew in six 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, and as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to pour from above, he seized a handful of Hermione's robes and dragged her forward, one arm over his head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon them. A Death Eater lunged forward through the cloud of dust and Harry elbowed him hard in the masked face. They were all yelling, there were cries of pain, 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 onward; a hand caught him by the shoulder; he heard Hermione shout "Stupefy!" and the hand released him at once. They were at the end of row ninety-seven; Harry turned right and Clara followed closely behind. They soon began to sprint in earnest. She could hear footsteps right behind her and Hermione's voice urging Neville on. The door through which they had come was ajar straight ahead, she pelted through it. 

 "Colloportus!" gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise. 

"Where — where are the others?" gasped Harry. 

"They must have gone the wrong way!" whispered Hermione, terror in her face. Fuck, Luna wasn't here. Clara's mind was in a million different places, and she couldn't afford to lose her best friend, not tonight.

"Listen!" whispered Neville. Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed. Clara put her ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar: "Leave Nott, leave him, I say, the Dark Lord will not care for Nott's injuries as much as losing that prophecy — Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! 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!"