TRAP AND DOUBLE TRAP

THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC:

Harry entered the Ministry with five of his friends, perhaps his only five friends left at school. The Boy-Who-Lived had grown unpopular as of late. Nobody wanted to believe him when he tried to tell them that Voldemort had returned. Most people believed that Harry was either a liar or lunatic and kept their distance from him. These five were the only ones who had not abandoned him and who actually believed that the most evil wizard of all time had actually returned.

Harry would have naturally preferred for them to have strayed behind at the castle, but they wouldn't hear of it. If he was going; they were going, no argument. And so, the motely group had set out. With Harry were Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood.

Ron, like everyone else in his family, was red haired and freckled. The Weasleys were one of the few pureblood families that didn't care about blood purity. Harry and Ron had been friends since they met on the train at the onset of their first year. The pair had gotten into an almost suicidal amount of trouble over the years.

By contrast, was muggleborn, the first person in her family to be able to do magic. She and Ron were his best friends, although Ron had hated her at first. The pair still often argued; Hermione's militant work ethic clashing with Ron's avoid-work-at-all-costs attitude. There were a lot of people in Gryffindor who thought the pair secretly had a crush on each other but were either too proud or too dense to realize it. Hanging out with the pair had caused the witch to develop her own inner rule breaker.

Neville was the last of the group to be in Harry's year. For the better part of five years, Neville's abilities had been considered a joke. Herbology was the only subject he had any aptitude for, and he still had troubles in it. Harry had never checked, but he thought it was a toss-up between which of them had the record for the highest number of visits to the hospital wing. As he'd spent the past months studying with Harry, however, Neville had shown unbelievable improvement, and, if Harry was honest with himself, he was glad to have the other boy with him.

Ginny was Ron's younger sister. When Harry had first met her, she had had a highly annoying crush on him that had made his already difficult second year even worse. After Harry had saved her life at the end of the year, she had stopped stalking him. Over the past year, they had grown close as friends. While Ron was only a moderately good student, Ginny was clever and, like Neville, had developed into a talented duelist.

Luna was in Ginny's year, but was the only non-Gryffindor in the group. Instead, she was a Ravenclaw. Luna was probably the one Harry had most easily connected to out of everyone. While Neville was thought of as the worst wizard in the school, he was totally accepted by his fellow Gryffindors. Luna, perhaps the most eccentric girl in the entire school, was treated by her everyone else as some sort of strange creature at best and as a madwoman at worst. Harry, who had never really fit into the mainstream student body and who had been more or less ostracized since the start of the year, knew what it was like for her. He had also discovered the kind and insightful person who was buried beneath the stories of fantastic creatures and girls other quirks (like reading magazines upside down).

The diverse group began to search the Ministry for Sirius, but they were essentially trying to find a needle in a haystack. While they were certain the man was in the Department of Mysteries, that only changed the haystack into a pile of hay, a large pile. Harry was getting more and more worried. Sirius could have already been killed, or tortured into a coma like Neville's parent's had been, or Merlin knew what. Harry could not stand that thought. Sirius had been his father's best friend and was more or less the only paternal figure in Harry's life. The young wizard simply could not lose him.

Then, there was that voice. Harry was used to hearing voices that other people did not. In most people, this was a sign of insanity. In Harry Potter, it was a sign of just how messed up his whole life was. In his second year, he had heard the voice of a basilisk (an enormous snake monster) muttering about it wanted to kill people from within the plumbing. Ever since last summer, he had begun having terrible dreams that seemed to be inspired by Voldemort. One of those dreams had already saved Arthur Weasley (Ron and Ginny's father) from an earlier attack on the Ministry, and earlier that night, another dream had warned him of Voldemort's attack on Sirius.

This voice was different from the other two. It did not have the serpentine quality of Parsletongue, the language of snakes, and it was certainly not Voldemort's voice. Not only did it lack the harshness of the snake-like maniac, this voice had awe and fear in it, and these were things Voldemort never showed to anyone, if he even felt them. Comparatively, this voice was much more pleasantly human.

Harry had not told the others about it, because it would only create problems. It would make the others worry about him, wasting time and putting them off their guards. They had more important concerns at the moment. Later, perhaps, Harry would bring it up. Now was not the time.

The gunslinger, meanwhile, was looking out for his own concerns. He made one quick trip back to his own world to plot with his companions. They had been as amazed at the time of his arrival as he had been, but they had gotten over it to help him forge a plan. The result was not complicated, and it involved a number of risks. Still, they did not have the luxury of a long discussion, so it would have to do. When the gunslinger returned, he prepared himself for what he knew had to come next. He would make contact with the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hile, Harry Potter.

Harry, upon hearing the voice, froze in his tracks.

"Harry," Hermione asked. "What's wrong? Why are did you stop?" The others turned to look at him with concern.

This is it, Harry thought. I'll have to tell them that I'm hearing voices, again. Then I'll have to convince them to keep looking for Sirius and that I'm not crazy. Then again, maybe I am. He opened his mouth. . .

Then, immediately re-shut it as the voice began shouting again. "No, you fool, no! I do not have time for this! We do not have time! There is a plot afoot, and if you would protect those you hold dear, you would do well to listen to me!"

Harry winced at the voice; it sounded as though a man was shouting into his ears. "Who are you?" he mentally questioned the presence in his mind.

The young wizard heard the voice cry "He believes me! Thank God, he believes me!"

Then the mysterious speaker began to address Harry again. "Listen, Harry Potter, do not tell your friends of me. You couldn't make them believe in me, and we don't have the time. Just say you thought you saw something and start walking again. Hurry!"

"Who are you"? Harry insisted.

The next discourse was more urgent. "I'm your friend. You need know nothing more of me for the time being. Now, do as I say and pay attention to what I tell you."

"I thought I saw something," Harry said, deliberately avoiding eye contact with his friends. "It was nothing.

"Okay," Ron said, accepting it easily enough. The others weren't so easy to fool.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice laced with concern.

"You winced, Harry," Luna said. "That's a sign that wrackspurts are getting into your head." Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, prompting his sister to swat him on the shoulder. It was a gentle swat, though. Wrackspurts were creatures Luna believed in that no one else did. She said they invaded people's minds and messed with their brains.

"I'm fine," Harry lied, hating the deception. He started walking. "C'mon, let's get moving. Sirius needs us."

The others followed, though not as comfortable as they were before, which was saying something. Remember that they were a half-dozen underage wizards and witches illegally waltzing around the most important building in magical Britain. They were doing this to rescue a grown and fully trained wizard from an unknown number of the foulest sorcerers alive.

Hermione was particularly worried. She had seen something. She wasn't sure if any of the others had; Ron probably had not. Harry may not have even noticed it himself, but his head had bent to one side while he was considering how to answer her, almost as if he had been listening to something.

And didn't it take him a while to decide that there wasn't anything to see? She thought so. And then there was that wince. Hermione didn't believe in wrackspurts, but Harry had avoided the issue rather than answer it. There was something, she did not know what, Harry was not telling them. It hurt and frightened her. But Harry was right. They need to concentrate on Sirius, for now. She would confront her friend later. That did not mean, however, that she would not keep a half eye on him for the moment.

"I hope you're happy," Harry told the voice. "I've lied to my friends, satisfied?"

"It's not the first time you have done so", the voice answered, calmly. For a moment, Harry wanted to rave at the git in his mind, but then the speaker added. "But do not believe that I think nothing of this deception. It is necessary, but I cry your pardon, wizard."

Harry did not know how to react. The other mind in his head just kept getting stranger and stranger. "I cry your pardon?" Stranger still, the voice sounded genuinely remorseful. Could he trust it? Harry decided to reserve judgment for the moment. "What are you so desperate to talk about"?

"You are all in danger. I have a plan, but will not be easy."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course, it won't. You probably don't know much about my life, but I'm always in danger, and getting out is never easy. Now tell me what this danger is and what your plan is."

"I will, but, I warn you, you will not like it."

The voice told him. Harry did not like it.

The gunslinger knew that Harry would dislike the plan. He did not like it himself; the plan was incredibly risky. It was not that their stratagem (if one was generous enough to call it such a fine name) was a roughly planned affair, for the gunslinger (and a number of his companions, come to that) had always been gifted with improvisation. There were those who said the gunslinger acted best when he thought least. No, the plan was risky because it relied heavily on chance. Both the gunslinger and the wizard had relied on ka to come to their aid in the past. It was just a matter of time until ka stopped being so obliging, and the longer the wait, the greater the weight, as some thinkers said.

It could not be helped, however. The Hall of Prophecy drew nigh and with it came the moment to act. As soon as the sneaking group was safely within the room of the glowing spheres, the gunslinger spoke a single word: "Now!"

Harry stopped abruptly. "Get your wands ready," he whispered. Ron was about to protest, but Harry whispered "Now!" His friends did so; then, Harry spun around and pointed his own toward the shadows behind him. "Show yourselves!"

Immediately a group of Death Eaters appeared: Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, and ten others. Malfoy was in front, signifying that he was in charge of the group. He did not look particularly happy.

"Well done, Potter. I suppose we shouldn't have expected anything less from the Boy-Who-Lived." The man had pale skin and long, platinum blonde hair. He looked like an older version of his son, Draco, but was ever worse that the arrogant little git.

"Hello, there, little Nevilles," Bellatrix trilled. Fourteen years in Azkaban had not been easy on her. The woman's skin was paler than Malfoy's, and she had dark circles under her eyes and wild hair. She still looked attractive, in a dangerous, insane sort of way, but she was evil to her very core. "How are Mummy and Daddy doing?"

Neville glowered at her. "They're doing well," he answered, his voice stern. Harry understood his anger. Bellatrix and some of her Death Eater friends had tortured Neville's parents into a coma fourteen years ago.

"Now, now, Bella," Lucius interrupted, mock compassion in his voice. "We aren't here to discuss the past. We're here to discuss the future."

"You want a prophecy," Harry said. It was not a question.

Malfoy smiled a little. "Clever, boy, very clever. Yes, we do want a prophecy, and you're going to get it for us."

"Harry's not going to help you!" Ginny declared. She aimed her wand at Malfoy. Suddenly, there was a burst of magic, and Harry and all his friends were unarmed. Six of the Death Eaters were now holding the students' wands. Malfoy himself was twirling Harry's between his hands.

"Oh yes, Harry is going to help us," Malfoy said, his smile widening. "Unless, of course, he wants to watch his friends die one by one. Who do you think should the first, Bella? Weasley's little princess or the mudblood?" The sadistic woman actually looked at the two intently, trying to judge which of the two she wanted to see dead first.

"All right!" Harry growled, before Bellatrix could answer. "I'll get your prophecy."

Malfoy was beaming now. "Wise move, Potter." Harry looked at that smile and wanted to punch it with all his might. To his pleasant surprise, his mind's mysterious tenant wanted to do the same.

Maybe we can be friends after all, Harry thought. He turned and began to walk forward into the Hall.

Hermione grabbed him by the arm. "Harry, you can't! If you help them-"

Harry cut her off. "I don't have a choice, Hermione."

"He's right," Malfoy stated arrogantly. "He doesn't."

Hermione's eyes flicked from Harry, to Malfoy, and back again. Her hand tightened around his arm while her mind groped for an idea, any idea. Then, she felt Luna touch her free hand. Her eyes moved to the other girl.

The blond gave a small smile and winked. "Don't worry," that look said, "it'll be all right."

Hermione sighed and let go of Harry. Who would have ever thought she'd listen to Looney Lovegood's advice?

Although she did not know it, Harry had seen the look that passed between the two girls. He was glad Hermione had let go of his arm, but he was interested at how Luna had convinced her to do so without saying a single word. It fascinated him, but he didn't have time to stop and think about it.

The gunslinger saw it, too, but he understood. It was a part of ka-an-tet. This would merit exploring in the future, but first, he had to insure there was a future.

"Wait just a minute, Potter," Malfoy said as Harry began again to walk into Hall. "Maybe one or two of us should go with you. We wouldn't want you to get lost, now would we?"

He thinks I'm going to try to run away, Harry angrily thought, as two wizards who were probably Crabbe and Goyle's fathers started to follow him. He thinks I'm cowardly enough to leave my friends behind.

"I wont," the voice said, which Harry took to mean, "I suppose so". "Cowards often assume cowardice in others. Or, mayhap he thinks you'll try to destroy the prophecy. Mayhap there's even a small part of him that suspects you could lay a trap for him and his friends."

Harry smiled grimly. "He should pay more attention to that part."

The gunslinger's trap was about to spring.