Chapter 4: All Hallows' Eve

Despite the Headmaster's suggestion, Harry did not tell his friends anything. He most certainly did not tell Iana anything about the Prophecy. Dumbledore's likely reasoning was sound. If Voldemort did return, Iana probably had every reason to want to see him dead again; more so even than anyone else Harry knew. He still wasn't about to interact with her any more than was absolutely necessary though.

Fortunately for him, that meant he exchanged nothing more than the occasional insult for the whole week.

As for the rest of his friends, well. If his mission, and he was definitely thinking of it as a mission, with Dumbledore was successful, he figured he was pretty much off the hook. If he removed the Prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, there was pretty much zero chance that Voldemort would learn about it. Harry would be scot-free.

They had been able to tell that something was up with him though. Not only had it been very late when he'd got back from meeting Dumbledore, but he'd barely been able to sit still in anticipation for the entire week. At every meal, he found himself shooting glances up at the teacher's table.

"Seriously, Harry, what's gotten into you?" asked Neville when he caught Harry looking up at the Headmaster for what was probably the fifth time that evening.

Around them, their housemates were engaged in the typical Halloween revelry. The Hogwarts House Elves had, as usual, outdone themselves with the selection. The long house tables groaned under the weight of so many dishes, and the students were doing everything they could to reduce that burden.

Harry, however, found that he wasn't feeling hungry at all. While he'd never had the same voracious appetite some of his house mates had —Ron and Dean came to mind immediately— he'd never sat through a feast and left his plate as untouched as it was that evening. While most of his friends were far too invested in the task of giving the House Elves' work its due appreciation, Neville had been watching Harry.

"Hmm, what?" Harry asked, trying to play it off as nothing important. Neville clearly wasn't buying, though.

Neville kept his voice low, which Harry appreciated. "You've been watching Dumbledore like a hawk this whole week. You've barely been able to sit still, and you keep checking the time. What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on." Harry quickly realised just how bad of a denial that was. "I just have a meeting with the Headmaster because of what happened during my detention," he added, inventing wildly. "He said I can't talk about it."

"Does it have something to do with Malfoy?" Neville asked, unperturbed. "I noticed she's not here. Her goons would be looking lost if it wasn't for the feast."

That was as good a cover as any. "Look, Professor Dumbledore said I couldn't tell anyone what it was about, okay?" Hopefully he'd assume it did indeed have something to do with Malfoy.

The look that Neville gave him neatly communicated his complete lack of belief. "Suit yourself." He turned back to his food and was soon tucking in alongside everyone else once more.

Harry might have nibbled his way through a few mouthfuls of food by the time the feast had ended. Everyone hung around for a while, chatting and laughing amongst themselves, while Harry hovered on the periphery, not really taking part in any of the conversations. Finally, and at long last, it was time. Harry watched as Dumbledore left the feast, and after waiting a little while he decided to follow along.

If his friends thought anything of his rather weak excuse of being tired and wanting to turn in early they didn't say anything at least. The look he got from Neville as he left them to their conversations, which mostly involved Seamus and Dean making futile efforts to convince Ron of the hopelessness of the Cannons, suggested it wasn't the last Harry had heard of it however.

The corridors of Hogwarts were dead quiet. With even the teachers attending the feast, probably the only things stalking the halls were Mrs Norris, the caretaker's cat, and Peeves the Poltergeist. Fortunately for Harry, he encountered neither of them.

When he reached the corridor which contained the entrance to the Headmaster's office he found Dumbledore already waiting for him. Fawkes, proud and resplendent in red and gold, sat on his shoulder.

"Ah, Harry. You are right on time." The Headmaster held a hand out for Harry to take. "We should make haste."

Harry found himself swallowing nervously at just how quickly it was all moving. As soon as Harry was holding on firmly to Dumbledore's surprisingly strong hand, Fawkes spread his wings wide, and loosed a beautiful trilling noise which drove away the rising nervousness, if only for a moment. Then, the dark Hogwarts corridor disappeared in a pillar of fire.

The next moment, Harry found himself in a shadowy corner of the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Usually, it was thronging with witches and wizards of all stripes, but this time it was almost completely silent. The only sounds to be heard were the rustling of Dumbledore's long robes and the gentle watery burble of the Fountain of the Magical Hero. Most of the atrium was dark, but a shaft of light illuminated the fountain which showed a very dramatic interpretation of Voldemort's supposed final moments.

Most of it was in gold, except for a towering figure in black marble who was standing over the tiny figure of Iana Malfoy, while her father tried to fight back valiantly. The expression on the baby Iana's face was probably meant to be defiant, but Harry had always felt she looked a bit like she needed to go to the toilet.

Dumbledore led Harry over towards the security desk. In the half-darkness it looked to be unmanned, which was strange even on Halloween.

"Prof—"

The Headmaster silenced him instantly with a simple gesture, and pulled out his wand. He didn't say anything as he stalked towards the empty desk. Gone was any hint of the absent-minded old man who presided over Hogwarts feasts with speeches composed entirely of nonsense words. In his place was a wizard Harry could readily imagine Voldemort fearing.

When Dumbledore reached the desk, he looked over and let out a hiss-like breath. Unable to curb his curiosity, Harry peered over too, and met the open, glassy eyes of a young woman whom he could easily recognise. He breathed in sharply, and might even have cried out had he not already been silenced. It was Nymphadora Tonks. Sirius' favourite cousin, and someone Harry had known for years. Usually she wore her hair in vibrant hues; blue, yellow, green or pink, but in death it had returned to an unremarkable mousy brown. For some reason, that really drove it home. She was really dead. She'd always seemed so… alive. Now her eyes, usually so full of life, were empty. Just like that, she was gone. Everything she'd been was nothing more than a memory.

While Harry had been staring at Tonks' body Dumbledore had been casting spells. It wasn't until she was covered with a conjured white sheet that Harry returned to the world.

"She has been dead less than an hour," said Dumbledore, his voice utterly serious. His blue eyes, usually so bright, were dulled to an almost slate grey. "I am going to see what has happened here. I need you to use the Floo to raise the alarm. I believe Peter is on watch this evening. Tell him that the Ministry has been attacked, and that we are in need of as many Order members as he can find. If that doesn't work, take the Whitehall exit and Apparate to Hogwarts. Minerva will be able to raise the alarm. Stay hidden, and do not follow me."

"But—" Harry hadn't even noticed the silencing spell being removed.

Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him. "Please, Harry. Do not argue. Time is of the essence."

Harry's mouth snapped shut. He didn't need to be reminded of just what might be at stake; he was standing next to a painful example of it. He nodded.

With Harry's agreement, Dumbledore whirled around and set off in the direction of the lifts. His long robes streamed out behind him like a warrior's tabard, and Fawkes flew as a herald before him. As the lift doors closed, Harry caught a glimpse of the silvery light of some spell before he was gone. Harry shook himself, he didn't have time to waste. It took only seconds to cross the Atrium at a flat run, and soon he reached the huge fireplaces used by those who chose to Floo to the Ministry.

He immediately knew something was wrong. Fireplaces which were attached to the Floo network had a curious colour to them. Usually an occasional green or purple spark spat out of the lively flames. Now there was no sign of the sparks, and when Harry threw a pinch of Floo powder into the flames, he could not get them to connect with any other fireplace. The flames leapt up and burned a cold green, but no amount of calling would allow him to step through.

He wasted a few minutes trying every fireplace he could find, but none of them worked. He was wasting time. He looked around frantically for the exit. He'd never actually had to use it on any of his rare visits, but he soon found it. The conspicuous muggle telephone box sitting in a corner between two of the big fireplaces was hard to miss.

Unfortunately, it refused to so much as hint at opening for him. He tried every unlocking spell he could think of and it stayed steadfastly shut.

"Shit, shit, shit!" As he swore and paced, he tried to think of what to do next. Dumbledore had told him to stay away, but Dumbledore had also thought he had reinforcements coming. It was becoming increasingly clear that there would be no reinforcements. Harry was all there was.

Without even realising it, he was halfway across the Atrium. It was only when he punched the button for the Department of Mysteries in the lift that he realised what a stupid thing he might be doing. Did he really think that he of all people could help someone like Dumbledore?

What if it was Voldemort?

Before those thoughts could run away with what remained of his determination, the lift doors opened, and he was greeted with a long corridor, swathed in darkness. At the far end he could see a slither of light escaping through an unclosed door.

His feet took him ever closer to the door, every step maybe carrying him closer to Voldemort, but despite his fears, he kept making them. Metre after metre. Step after step. Until at last he reached the door and peeked through. Inside there were two people, one witch and one wizard, each in black robes and wearing bone-white masks. Harry recognised the costume easily enough. Death Eaters.

Both of them were unconscious, and wrapped tightly in thick chains. Their wands were nowhere to be seen. The room itself was a strange one. It was circular, with a wide empty space in the middle. The moment Harry stepped in, the walls blurred into motion, spinning fast enough that they left Harry with the same dizzy feeling he might get after an over-ambitious Wronksi Feint.

A few seconds later, the walls slowed and came to a stop once more, and Harry immediately realised that he had no idea which of them had been the exit. He had no choice but to choose one at random, and hope for the best. One had seemingly been hit by some kind of spell which had left a charred mark on the wood. He decided that that was probably his best option.

Through that door was another long featureless corridor, and at the far end of this one the door was wide open. Light spilled into the corridor from the room beyond, but Harry couldn't see what it contained. He edged closer, straining every one of his senses to their limit in the hope that he'd get some warning if more Death Eaters were present.

As he reached the door, he was able to hear the faint sound of voices. He couldn't make out words, they were more like human sounding echoes. He paused for a long moment, but it soon became clear that the voices were not growing any closer. Where was Dumbledore? Was he one of the speakers?

The room beyond the open doorway seemed almost endless. It was filled, beyond the limit of sight, with rank upon rank of tall shelves, every one identical. On each one, hundreds of small white orbs, like a cross between a remembrall and a muggle snow-globe, sat in rows upon dozens of shelves. Harry moved, as quietly as he could manage, over to look at one of them more closely.

On a tiny golden plaque screwed to the shelf beneath the orb was a small, brief inscription.

M. E to A. a. M
Stephen of Blois (Muggle) and Empress Matilda (Muggle)
Concluded

Harry frowned, and reached out to pick the orb up. Before he touched it, Dumbledore's words welled up once more in his mind. There were protections on the Prophecies which meant they could only be touched by those mentioned in them. He pulled his hand back, as if burned.

There were hundreds, even thousands of them, but he couldn't stop to inspect every one. He heard a shout, and a cry of pain coming from further in, and started to run, as quickly and as quietly as he could manage, in the direction of the sound.

In a pool of light beneath one of the floating blue lamps which provided a sparse illumination for the hall, Harry found the source of the voices.

Four figures in the same robes and masks as the two in the spinning room stood around two more figures. The one Harry recognised first was Iana Malfoy, though she looked much different from normal. Her usually perfect hair was in disarray, her ordinarily immaculate robes were torn. Even though he was still some distance away, Harry could see that she was bleeding from her nose and a couple of cuts on her face. The sleeve of her robes had been torn off completely, and a deep gash on her arm dripped blood onto the floor.

The other figure had his back to Harry, but it was not hard to tell just who it was. Lucius Malfoy had never been one to shy away from attention the few times Harry had encountered him.

"I grow tired of this charade," said one of the Death Eaters as he stalked back and forth. His voice seemed familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place it. "You know your defiance is futile. The Dark Lord will not be denied."

Iana spat something dark onto the floor and glared up at the masked man. "Then he can come and get it himself."

"You always were far too taken up in your own myth for your own good," said the Death Eater. He shook his head before lazily pointing his wand at Lucius. "Crucio!"

The scream that the elder Malfoy let out was something that Harry knew would live on in his nightmares. He'd heard of the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, but nothing he'd heard or read could have prepared him for the outpouring of agony that came from Lucius as his body, clearly held up and stationary by spells, twitched and shuddered.

"Stop it!" cried Iana, and Harry could see her straining against the spells that held her, too, in place.

The Death Eater's wand did not stray from Lucius, but another of the Death Eaters silenced him. The way his screams were so suddenly cut off, even while his body continued to convulse, was if possible even worse than the screams themselves had been.

"Oh, I can't do that," said the Death Eater smoothly, his voice cruelly apologetic. "Only you can help him. Give me the Prophecy."

Harry looked around frantically; hoping, praying that Dumbledore would descend upon them in an irresistible whirlwind of spells, but he was nowhere to be seen. Where could he have gotten to?

The shuddering breath he released as he realised what he'd have to do sounded so loud that he was momentarily worried the Death Eaters might hear him. When it was clear they hadn't, he slipped his wand into his hand and took careful aim. It was harder than it might have been. The mere thought of what he was about to do had him trembling, and he couldn't keep the wand straight.

He sighted through the shelves to one beyond the Death Eaters and cast a silent summoning charm. It lurched towards him, and with an almost glacial slowness started to topple over. There was a moment before one of the Death Eaters realised what was happening, but his shout was the signal for all hell to break loose.

The Death Eaters leapt out of the way of the falling shelves, which rained silvery prophecy orbs down on those below. Harry followed up with the most powerful counterspell he knew for dispelling bindings. Iana and Lucius both dropped limply to the ground, and he knew the spell had worked.

A great crash echoed through the hall as the falling shelves smashed into the next shelf along and it, too, started to teeter over.

"They're escaping!" one of the Death Eaters cried. Harry couldn't recognise the voice, but it was obviously a woman.

To sow further confusion, Harry cast a Banishing Charm at her, and the resulting flash of blue light sent her flying into one of the other Death Eaters. They then both collided with another of the shelves, setting a second domino effect in motion.

"We're under attack!" one of the other Death Eaters shouted. He pointed in Harry's direction with his wand. "Bombarda!"

The shelf behind which Harry was hidden exploded into a cloud of splinters and shattered glass. He tried to throw himself clear, but felt a searing pain as the shrapnel cut deep gouges across his back and hands.

He knew he couldn't stay still, though, and scrambled through the wreckage to hide behind another of the shelves. He was able to catch sight of Iana and her father, both hiding behind another of the shelves. Somehow, Iana had gotten hold of a wand, and was exchanging spells with one of the other Death Eaters.

The two that Harry had knocked down didn't take long to get back up, but it was clear that Iana had managed to steal the wand of one of them, as only one started returning their own spells. He might have gotten some duelling training from his father and Sirius over the last couple of years, but Harry knew his chances against three, with only a wounded Iana for support, were pretty slim. They needed to get away somehow.

A spell he'd seen a couple of times before came to mind. He'd even been the victim of it once. "Avis, Oppugno!"

More than twenty birds flew from his wand and dove straight for the Death Eaters. They weren't his best work by any stretch of the imagination, without any recognisable species, but they did the job of acting as a distraction.

Iana and her father used the brief respite the birds granted them to scramble around the devastated shelves, towards Harry. When Iana realised who it was that had come to her rescue, she stopped dead.

"Potter!" she hissed, eyes wide in shock. "What are you—"

Harry cut her off. they really didn't have time for posturing. "Saving you, looks like," he said back. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

"There's more of them," said Iana, glancing back at them. As she did so, her eyes came to rest on her father who was clearly still suffering from the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. "Father also won't be able to run far or fast."

"Levicorpus." As Lucius lifted off his feet, just an inch or two into the air, Harry looked back at Iana. "Then we pull him with us."

Without waiting any longer, Harry started sprinting back in the direction of the door. He really hoped Iana was following, because moments later he heard a thunderous roar of fire as the Death Eaters destroyed the few remaining birds, and reduced the shelves that had been acting as cover to ash.

Chancing a look back, Harry saw that she was just about managing to keep pace. The sight of her running beneath the infrequent lamps, with her father being dragged behind like a half-deflated balloon really drove home just how utterly crazy his evening had become. Behind them, the Death Eaters had finally seen them, and were beginning to make chase.

A spell flashed over Harry's head, far too close for comfort. When it hit one of the shelves, it reduced a whole corner to a bubbling mess, but there was nothing to be done but run. The door was getting rapidly nearer.

He heard Iana bark out some spell, followed by a shout of surprise from their pursuers, and for a moment the spells flying around him paused. He ripped the door open and jumped through it. The moment Iana followed, he slammed it shut.

"Colloportus!" he shouted before turning once more to run for the far end of the corridor. Maybe if they could reach the room with the doors they could lose their pursuers? He put on a turn of speed to catch up to Iana again.

Perhaps his locking spell got them a second. Maybe two. Certainly nothing more than that. As he ran he heard, and felt, the powerful explosion which tore it from its hinges. The shockwave nearly caused him to trip, but Iana caught him before he did.

Neither of them had the spare breath to say anything, but instead continued doggedly on as spells once again started to flash around them. Lucius let out a strangled cry as a cutting curse slashed across one of his arms and Harry turned his wand behind him, blindly casting a powerful flame charm down the corridor.

On a whim he also sent a blasting charm at the roof just metres behind them. Maybe the rubble would slow the Death Eaters down.

They finally reached the next door, and this time Iana was the first through it. As soon as Harry was through, she transfigured the doorway into solid brick which, moments later blurred into motion as the walls of the room spun once more.

"How do we get out?" she asked him desperately. Her shoulders were sagging, and she was breathing heavily. Her arm was still bleeding, but the wounds on her face no longer left blood dripping off her chin. "Quick, Potter! That won't hold them for long!"

"I don't know, okay?" Harry shouted back. He looked around, willing his memory to supply anything of use that might identify the door through which he had originally entered.

"What do you mean you don't know?" If Dumbledore was still looking for them, her harsh shriek would surely help him. "How can you not know?"

As she finished speaking, an explosion sounded on the other side of the transfigured wall. It held, but many of the bricks were left cracked or broken. Harry sent a repairing spell at it, but he knew there was no way it would stand up to a concerted attack. He chose a door at random and yanked it open.

"In here!" he said urgently. "Quickly!"

Iana looked like she wanted to argue, but when another explosion blasted chunks of her transfigured wall across the room, she realised how stupid that would be, and darted through the door. Harry slammed it shut and spelled it locked again.

"Where now?" Iana asked as they peered into the darkness. Whatever this room contained, a floor didn't seem to be one of them. Instead, they were floating over an endless void. The only features to be seen were tiny pinpricks of light at the edge of visibility. They twinkled like stars.

More important than 'where to' was 'where from', so Harry chose a direction at random. "This way!" He started running into the darkness.

It was a strange sensation indeed to be running through the inky void. He could feel the floor beneath his feet, but when he looked there was not a sign of it. At the same time, every step he took seemed to take him far more than the metre or so it should. As he ran one of the pinpricks of light grew and grew until he could make out the unmistakable shape of Jupiter. He'd seen it enough in his Astrology classes.

Another few steps saw him pass it by completely, and soon it was disappearing into the distance behind him. They ran past another couple of planets. Harry recognised Mars easily enough, but the strange misshapen lump that came before it was completely alien to him. Soon, Earth came into view, and when it did, floating in the air next to it, a door materialised. Without stopping to wonder where it might lead, Harry tried to pull it open, only to find it locked.

The distant sound of shouting rose up out of the darkness behind him, and he realised they had very little time indeed.

"Alohomora!" he whispered desperately, hoping that the door hadn't been locked with anything too powerful to be overcome with the unlocking charm. The click of the door's lock was like music to his ears.

The moment he opened the door, every one of his senses was assailed suddenly. It was a huge amphitheatre-like room, with tiers of seating descending down towards a strange rough-stone stage. On the stage was a simple archway with strips of ethereal fabric hanging over its opening.

Much of the room had been reduced to rubble, however, and amongst the destruction stood two figures. The closest of the two was Dumbledore. His hair and beard had been singed, and acrid smoke curled out from beneath his torn robes, but he stood tall and unbent before his enemy.

That enemy was surely enough to chill the blood of even the bravest Gryffindor. Taller even than Dumbledore, and robed in midnight black. His snake-like face, with a flat, slitted nose was pale as bone, and his eyes were a terrible, cruel red. He, too, looked more than a little the worse for wear, but that did not diminish the impression of terrifying power he exuded.

It was Voldemort, returned from the dead.

Lucius made a whimpering noise, and tried to cower behind his daughter, but it was made difficult by the levitation charm which still caused him to float above the ground like he was some kind of bizarre kite.

That sound was enough to draw the attention of the two battling wizards.

Dumbledore's eyes went wide as they landed on Harry and Iana, but even before Harry could work out what it was they contained, they narrowed once more, and he sent a torrent of fire towards his foe.

The flames formed a close sphere, almost blindingly bright around Voldemort, but a moment later it exploded outwards, and the inferno was snuffed out in an instant.

Two of the Death Eaters who had been pursuing Harry and Iana rushed out into the room, their wands aimed unerringly at them. They were both breathing heavily, and the mask of one of them was blackened and cracked down one side, but their wands didn't falter.

"It is over, Dumbledore," said Voldemort. His voice was sibilant, and though his words were quietly spoken, they echoed around the room. His gaze shifted to the two Death Eaters. "The Prophecy? Do you have it?"

"You mean this prophecy?" Iana asked as she pulled the silvery orb from the pocket of her robe. "No, they don't."

"Ah, so the Malfoy whelp takes more after her mother than her father, it seems," said Voldemort and if anything he sounded impressed. "Hand it over girl, and perhaps you may even live."

"I'm not stupid, you know," said Iana, glaring daggers. "As soon as you have what you want, I'm just your embarrassing little secret."

"Perhaps." Voldemort tapped his wand to his thin, almost non-existent lips. "But you have tried to defy me once already this evening. Remind me, will you, how that served you?"

"Enough of this, Tom," said Dumbledore as he moved to place himself between Voldemort and Iana. "Whatever plan you had for this evening failed. You know there is no chance of that Prophecy surviving."

"Be silent!"

"You no doubt hoped for a quiet resurrection. Perhaps the mysterious death of Lucius and his daughter?" Dumbledore suggested. "Your agents could then operate almost unimpeded within these very Halls to make them ready for your return. None of this can happen now. You would do well to retreat."

Voldemort laughed at him. It was a high, cruel sound that had very little in common with the laughter that Harry knew.

"Do you think I cannot see through these pathetic attempts?" he asked. "Perhaps they would work on school children. Have you lost your edge, fading away in that crumbling ruin you call a school?"

Then, suddenly, Dumbledore's wand came up and a shockwave ripped through the room sending Harry, Iana and Lucius scrambling to the floor. The two Death Eaters were downed by it too, and the half-burned mask came off to reveal the surprised face of Professor Rosier.

At the very same moment, a pillar of flame materialised in the middle of the room, and a beautiful song filled the air. When the flames died down, they revealed Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, as well as both Sirius and Harry's own father.

Harry scrambled for his own wand and was able to disarm both the Death Eaters before they could find their feet. Then he turned to find Voldemort glaring venomously at Dumbledore and the new arrivals.

"You always were a canny old man," said Voldemort, the seeming coolness of his voice belied by the baleful glint in his red eyes.

Then, before anyone could respond, he disappeared into a pillar of oily smoke. It swirled around the room, picking McGonagall off her feet and throwing her towards the strange archway, only to be caught by Dumbledore's own spell. The smoke then descended upon the two disarmed Death Eaters, and with a final thunderous rumble it collapsed into a single point and disappeared. Rosier and the other Death Eater were gone too.

There was a brief moment of silence, before James ran up to Harry.

"Harry! Are you okay? Merciful Merlin, what are you doing in the middle of all this?" he asked. His words came so fast that Harry almost couldn't comprehend them.

"There is still a matter which we need to address," said Dumbledore, giving Harry a significant look.

"If that matter has anything to do with why there was a prophecy with his name on it next to mine, then you need not worry," said Iana. It was clear that her injuries were catching up to her. The words came slow and slurred. "It was destroyed in the fight."

With that last word she keeled over and fell to the ground with a bone rattling thump. James darted over to her and cast a couple of spells over her.

"She's alive, but she needs to see a Mediwitch," he said to Dumbledore seriously.

"Then let us not delay." Without needing to be called, Fawkes flew over and alighted on Dumbledore's shoulder. "Lucius is also in need of attention. Come, there will be much to discuss."

With one hand, Harry took Dumbledore's, while he held tight to his father's with the other. A moment later all five of them disappeared in a pillar of flame.