Chapter 48: The Trap

Harry's relief at nearly being done with OWLs did not mean he took their final exam, History of Magic, less seriously. Though it was not to take place until that afternoon and Harry would very much have liked to go back to bed after breakfast, he had been counting on the morning for a spot of last-minute studying. At least until Kate had wandered in and given them a rousing rendition of the "important stuff that they ask on their inane little test" as she had described it.

The fifth years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their overturned examination papers. Harry just wanted this to be over so that he could go and sleep. Then tomorrow, he and Ron were going to go down to the Quidditch pitch — he was going to have a fly on Ron's broom and savor their freedom from studying.

The exam was incredibly dull. Answering questions about ancient foreign wizards whose impact on history was debatable at best could have only been interesting to true academics, like Hermione or, as much as he hated to admit it, Kate.

Thankfully, Kate had not only told him some of these stories when he was little, but also over the summer, and to help the Gryffindors study this morning. Even Hermione had dropped her books in favor of listening to Kate run through the finer points of wizarding history. Of course, with his sister, it was all told as some massive rom-com drama that had everyone in stitches.

It was as he was trying to force himself to remember something—anything—about why Litchenstein didn't join the ICW, that he felt an intrusion against his shields. He let it in without making it seem obvious he was, suddenly wide awake.

He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last... The black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors… Straight across the stone floor and through the second door... patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry…

He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others...

Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres... His heart was beating very fast now...He was going to get there this time... When he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows… But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving upon the floor like a wounded animal... Harry's stomach contracted with fear... with excitement...

A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness, "Take it for me...Lift it down, now... I cannot touch it ... but you can..."

The black shape upon the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise on the end of his own arm... heard the high, cold voice say, "Crucio!"

The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted, and the figure groaned and became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting..."

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance…

"You'll have to kill me," whispered Sirius.

"Undoubtedly I shall in the end," said the cold voice. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black… You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again... We have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream..."

But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk onto the cold stone floor. Harry hit the ground and snapped out of his trance, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him.

He was escorted out shortly after and only waited until Professor Tofty's heels disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, then ran up the marble staircase and then more staircases toward Kate's classroom, hurtling along the corridors so fast that the portraits he passed muttered reproaches, and burst through her classroom door like a hurricane. The entire room went dead silent as even Kate seemed dumbstruck.

Harry didn't hesitate, "I need to speak with you in private." He said boldly, ignoring the stares of the 2nd year Slytherin and Ravenclaw class.

"Alright," said Kate, recovering quickly. "Practice the incantations—without casting the spells—and we will work on wand motion when I get back." She told her class before gesturing for Harry to follow her into her office.

He shut the door immediately and didn't give her time to say anything before he blurted out, "I just got a vision that Voldemort is holding Sirius in the Hall of Prophecy." He informed her.

Kate seemed to take a moment to digest this information. "Right." She grimaced a little, "you go get Ron and Hermione up here while I warn Dumbledore." She ordered.

"We're going to rescue him, right?" Harry asked heatedly.

Kate lifted an eyebrow and Harry blushed, suddenly aware of his tone. "Sorry."

She gave him a small smile, "I'm not even sure he's actually there—he shouldn't be, but yes, we are going either way. It's obviously a trap."

Harry nodded, "I'll be right back, then."

He was running again, pushing students out of the way, oblivious to their angry protests and shouts. He sprinted back down two floors and was at the top of the marble staircase when he saw them hurrying toward him.

"Harry!" said Hermione at once, looking very frightened. "What happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?"

"Where have you been?" demanded Ron.

"Come with me," Harry said quickly. "Come on, I've got to tell you something..."

He led them up the stairs towards the DADA corridor, with Ron and Hermione hot on his heels.

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

"What?"

"How d'you — ?"

"Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam."

"But — but where? How?" said Hermione, whose face was white.

"I dunno how," said Harry. "But they're in the Hall of Prophecies."

Harry found his voice was shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master himself. "We have to get to Kate—she's going to bring us there."

He could not understand why they were both gaping at him as though he was asking them something unreasonable.

"Harry," said Hermione in a rather frightened voice, "er...how...how did Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realizing he was there?"

"How do I know?" Harry shrugged. "We need to go though!"

"But...Harry, think about this," said Hermione, taking a step toward him, "it's five o'clock in the afternoon... The Ministry of Magic must be full of workers...How would Voldemort and Sirius have got in without being seen? Harry...they're probably the two most wanted wizards in the world... You think they could get into a building full of Aurors undetected?"

"I dunno, probably not, but it's our chance to get Voldemort!" Harry exclaimed as they hurtled up another set of stairs. "Anyway, Dumbledore said he'd do this—I told you guys that—and now he has so we're setting up his defeat."

The strange looks suddenly cleared from his best friends' faces and they picked up their own paces.

"You've contacted Dumbledore?" Ron echoed in shock.

"Kate is doing that right now." Harry said.

Sure enough, upon his return to the office, Harry saw the old Headmaster discussing something quietly with Kate.

"Professor!" Harry said in part anticipation and part relief.

"Harry," Dumbledore began, face grave, "Sirius is at Order Headquarters."

Harry felt tension that he didn't know he had fade away, "so this is a trap then."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, "Harry, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, what I must ask does not require your presence. You can turn around now and forget this ever happened. Nobody would think any less of you."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at him in shock, until Harry cottoned on to the fact that they were being given a chance to back out.

"No way!" Harry said quickly, "I'm helping."

"Well if you're going, then so am I!" Ron added.

"Of course we're going together." Hermione added.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he glanced back at Kate who nodded seriously. "We are going to go to the ministry and spring the trap. I'll be invisible and you need to pretend you snuck out without telling anyone. Albus will gather the order and come at my signal, which I will send once the Death Eaters show face," she said. "Then we just goad Voldemort out of his hole and Albus and I will do the rest."

THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC AN HOUR LATER

"Six two four four two!" Ron recited under his breath, his arm bent to reach the dial. As it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger," Harry said very quickly, "We're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!" Kate was cramped in with them, invisible and silent. Harry only knew she was there for sure because he was—ahem—okay, he was holding her hand, and he wasn't embarrassed.

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Three badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to Harry and Ron; he glanced at his.

HARRY POTTER

Rescue Mission

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" Harry said loudly, as his scar gave a throb. "Now can we move?"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box. Blackness closed over their heads, and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A chink of soft golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies. Harry bent his knees and held his wand as ready as he could while cramped in a phone booth with three other people, peering through the glass to see whether anybody was waiting for them in the Atrium, but it seemed to be completely empty. The light was dimmer than it had been by day. There were no fires burning under the mantelpieces set into the walls, but he saw as the lift slid smoothly to a halt that golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling. He let go of Kate's hand.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box burst open; Harry rushed out. "Come on," said Harry quietly and the three of them sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain, toward the deserted security desk as he had with the Rogues months earlier.

Once they reached the lifts, he pressed the nearest down button and a lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a great, echoing clanking, and they dashed inside. Harry stabbed the number nine button, the grilles closed with a bang, and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling.

"Department of Mysteries," the cool voice said and the grilles slid open again, they stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

Harry turned toward the familiar black door. "Let's go," he whispered, and he led the way down the corridor. "This way!"

Harry's heart was pumping frantically as he retraced the steps to the prophecy room. He led the way forward down the narrow space between the lines of the desks, heading, same as he had done before, for the source of a brilliant light illuminating at the end of the hall, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as he was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

He glanced around at his friends. They had their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious. Loyal to the last.

"Remember, we aren't supposed to know it's a trap…I've got to pretend I've never been here." They nodded and he looked back at the door and pushed. It swung open.

High as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

Harry edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. He could not hear anything nor see the slightest sign of movement.

"You said it was row ninety-seven," whispered Hermione.

"Yeah," breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure 53.

"We need to go right, I think," whispered Hermione, squinting to the next row. "Yes... that's fifty-four..."

"Keep your wands out," Harry said softly.

They crept forward, staring behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the farther ends of which were in near total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelf. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown lightbulbs.

They passed row eighty-four...eighty-five... Harry was listening hard for the slightest sound of movement, "Ninety-seven!" whispered Hermione.

They stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there.

"He's right down at the end," said Harry, whose mouth had become slightly dry. "You can't see properly from here..." The childish part of him wished he was still holding Kate's hand.

And he led them forward, between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as they passed…

"He should be near here," whispered Harry, keeping his cover. "Anywhere here...really close..."

"Harry?" said Hermione tentatively, but he did not want to respond. His mouth was very dry now.

"Somewhere about...here..." he said.

They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight. There was nobody there at all. All was echoing, dusty silence.

"He might be . . ." Harry whispered, peering down the alley next door. "Or maybe..." He hurried to pretend to look down the one beyond that for Sirius.

"Harry?" said Hermione again.

"What?" he whispered.

"Have you seen this?" said Ron, having spotted the prophecy. He winked at Harry.

"What?" said Harry, hiding his grin.

"It's — it's got your name on," said Ron.

Harry moved a little closer. Ron was pointing at the small glass spheres he'd opened back on his birthday.

"My name?" said Harry.

He stepped forward and grabbed it. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, something exciting, he lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.

Nothing whatsoever happened, at first.

And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right; eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit wand tips were pointing directly at their hearts.

"To me, Potter," repeated the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy as he held out his hand, palm up.

They were trapped and outnumbered four to one.

"To me," said Malfoy yet again.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry said, stalling to give Kate time to signal the order. Where was Voldemort?

Several of the Death Eaters laughed. A harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to Harry's left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," echoed Malfoy softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is!"

"I want to know where Sirius is!" mimicked the woman to his left. She and her fellow Death Eaters had closed in so that they were mere feet away from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, the light from their wands dazzling Harry's eyes.

"You've got him," said Harry, boldly. "He's here. I know he is."

"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo," said the woman in a horrible, mock-baby voice. Harry felt Ron stir beside him.

"Don't do anything," he muttered. "Not yet—" The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter.

"You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!"

"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," said Malfoy softly. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I know Sirius is here," said Harry. "I know you've got him!"

More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman still laughed loudest of all.

"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," said Malfoy. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then," said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the wands of Ron, and Hermione rose on either side of him. A knot appeared in Harry's stomach and he comforted himself with the knowledge that the Death Eaters were hopelessly outgunned and didn't even know it.

But the Death Eaters did not strike.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," said Malfoy coolly.

It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Yeah, right!" he said. "I give you this—prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked, "Accio Proph—"

Harry was just ready for her. He waved his wand before she had finished her spell, and the glass sphere didn't even slip in his fingers.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. "Very well, then —"

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman. "If you smash it — !"

"This dusty spun-glass sphere?" He shrugged, "I had no interest in it. But now…"

The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange's face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow.

"You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," he told Bellatrix before she could continue with her threat. "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 tried to think about how he could get Kate the needed a cover to send off her Patronus "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 when suddenly an idea came to him. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

The Death Eaters cackled and 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 go —"

"— 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 Ron 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?"

"Because he's psycho?" he quipped, 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.

"YOU DARE—" Bellatrix shrieked.

"NOW!" yelled Harry.

All three of them cast their most powerful reducto. 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, sprint past him, arms over his head. 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 barely had time to register it before the hand released him with muffled a "arrggghhh".

They were at the end of row ninety-seven; Harry turned right and out of the corner of his eye saw, much to his satisfaction, Kate's Patronus fly out, unnoticed by the Death Eaters.