Black shapes materialised from the shadows, hemming them in from all sides. Hooded figures emerged, their eyes gleaming with malice through narrow slits, and the dim light of their wands bathed the six friends in an eerie glow. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, her body locked in place by the suffocating grip of fear.
"To me, Potter," Lucius Malfoy's cold, drawling voice cut through the silence, his hand extended with a commanding gesture.
They were trapped, outnumbered two to one, and escape seemed impossible.
"To me," Malfoy repeated, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"Where's Sirius?" Harry demanded, his voice strained with desperation.
A chorus of mocking laughter erupted from the Death Eaters, harsh and grating. A triumphant female voice echoed from the darkness, taunting them. "The Dark Lord always knows!"
"Always," Malfoy murmured, his voice as smooth as silk. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter."
"I want to know where Sirius is!" Harry's voice rose, defiant and trembling with fear.
The female Death Eater's shrill and cruel laughter rang out again. The dark figures closed in, their proximity suffocating, pressing them into a tighter circle.
"You've got him," Harry insisted. "He's here. I know he is."
"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo," the woman sneered in a sickeningly sweet, mock-baby voice.
"Don't do anything," Harry muttered under his breath to the group. "Not yet."
The woman cackled, her laughter like nails on a chalkboard. "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," Malfoy purred, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Hermione felt Neville tense beside her, and without looking, she placed a comforting hand on his arm, willing him to stay calm.
"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," Harry persisted, his voice raw with desperation. "I know you've got him!"
The Death Eaters' laughter grew louder, but none more than Bellatrix Lestrange's—a shrill, unhinged sound that echoed off the stone walls.
"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," Malfoy said, his tone silky and menacing. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."
"Go on, then," Harry challenged, raising his wand to chest height. In unison, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna followed suit, their wands raised, ready to fight.
But the Death Eaters didn't strike.
"Hand over the prophecy, and no one need get hurt," Malfoy said, his voice cold and calculating.
Harry let out a mocking laugh. "Yeah, right! I give you this—prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Bellatrix Lestrange shrieked, "Accio proph—"
But Harry was quicker, his reflexes sharp. "Protego!" he shouted, cutting her off before she could finish the spell.
Bellatrix's eyes gleamed with a feverish light as she stared at him through the slits in her hood. "Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," she cooed mockingly. "Very well, then—"
"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Malfoy roared, his voice quaking with fury. "If you smash it—!"
Hermione's mind raced, filing away Malfoy's outburst—his fear of the prophecy shattering. It was a weakness, a point of leverage, and she was determined to use it.
Bellatrix stepped forward, her presence commanding as she pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed her face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but her eyes burned with a maniacal intensity. Hermione's heart ached for Neville, knowing what this woman had done to his parents, but she couldn't afford to lose focus.
"You need more persuasion?" Bellatrix's voice was like poison, dripping with sadistic delight. "Very well—take the smallest one. Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."
Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Luna instinctively tightened their protective circle around Ginny. Harry stepped in front of her, clutching the prophecy to his chest like a shield.
"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," Harry said, his voice steady despite the fear that gripped them all. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"
Bellatrix didn't move, her gaze fixed on Harry, her thin lips twisted into a sneer.
"So," Harry continued, his tone casual, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?"
"What kind of prophecy?" Bellatrix echoed, her grin fading, replaced by a look of cold menace. "You jest, Harry Potter."
"Nope, not jesting," Harry said, his voice steady, though Hermione could sense the tension coiled beneath his words. "How come Voldemort wants it?"
A chorus of low hisses erupted from the Death Eaters at the sound of Voldemort's name. Hermione's eyes darted upwards, scanning for any possible means of escape, but found nothing.
"You dare speak his name?" Bellatrix hissed, her voice venomous.
"Yeah," Harry replied, his tone defiant. "Yeah, I've got no problem with saying Vol—"
"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked, her rage boiling over. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips. You dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue. You dare—"
"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" Harry interjected recklessly. Hermione winced at his audacity, but she couldn't help but admire his nerve. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch, but his dad was a Muggle—or has he been telling you lot he's pure-blood?"
"STUPEF—"
"NO!"
Bellatrix's jet of red light shot from her wand, but Malfoy deflected it just in time, sending the spell crashing into a shelf beside Harry. Several glass orbs shattered, their fragments scattering across the floor like marbles.
Two figures, pearly-white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled from the shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. They began to speak in overlapping voices, fragments of their messages colliding with Malfoy and Bellatrix's frantic shouts.
"... at the solstice will come a new…" murmured the figure of an old, bearded man.
"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!" bellowed Malfoy, his voice strained with urgency.
"He dared—he dares—" shrieked Bellatrix, her words garbled by rage, "he stands there—filthy half-blood—"
"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" Malfoy barked, his voice cracking with desperation.
"... and none will come after…" whispered the figure of a young woman, her words floating like a ghostly echo in the tense air.
The spectral figures dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the scattered fragments of glass on the floor as evidence of their brief existence.
"You still haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," Harry said, clearly stalling for time. Maybe he was trying to formulate a plan that didn't involve taunting Bellatrix's unhinged fury.
"Do not play games with us, Potter," Malfoy growled, his patience thinning.
"I'm not playing games," Harry retorted, his voice steady.
Suddenly, Hermione felt a sharp pain shoot through her foot, causing her to gasp. She glanced down and realised that Harry had deliberately stepped on her foot. It wasn't an accident—he was signalling her.
"What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the tense silence.
"Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" Malfoy sneered, his words dripping with condescension.
"I—what?" Harry responded, feigning surprise. "What about my scar?"
"What?" Hermione hissed again, more urgently this time. Harry needed to stay focused.
"Can this be?" Malfoy's tone was laced with malicious glee. Some of the Death Eaters began to laugh, their cold laughter reverberating in the vast, echoing chamber. Under the cover of their noise, Harry hissed, "Smash shelves—"
"Dumbledore never told you?" Malfoy continued, his voice oozing with satisfaction. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter. The Dark Lord wondered why—"
"—when I say now—" Harry muttered under his breath.
"—you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would drive you to hear the exact wording…"
"Did he?" Harry said loudly, buying time for Hermione to relay his message to the others. "So he wanted me to come and get it, did he? Why?"
"Why?" Malfoy repeated incredulously as if he couldn't believe Harry's ignorance. "Because the only people 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 tried to use others to steal it for him."
Hermione felt a flicker of hope—Malfoy's arrogance gave them more information than he realised.
"And why did he want to steal a prophecy about me?" Harry pressed.
"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?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, the tension in the air thickening. "Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he asked quietly. "And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?"
"Get it himself?!" Bellatrix shrieked, her voice rising in pitch with a mad cackle of laughter. Hermione felt a brief, fleeting relief—at least Voldemort wasn't here. This was bad, but it wasn't the absolute worst-case scenario. "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 they're wasting their time on my dear cousin?"
"So, he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?" Harry said, a sneer in his voice. "Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it—and Bode?"
"Very good, Potter, very good…" Malfoy said slowly, savouring each word. "But the Dark Lord knows you're not unintell—"
"NOW!" Harry shouted.
A chorus of five voices erupted in unison, "REDUCTO!" Five curses shot out in different directions, and the shelves opposite them exploded as the spells hit. The towering structure of shelves wavered as hundreds of glass spheres shattered, unleashing pearly-white figures into the air. The voices of long-dead Seers echoed through the crashing chaos of glass and wood raining down upon them.
"RUN!" Harry yelled.
Hermione felt Harry grab a handful of her robes, yanking her forward just as a massive chunk of glass thundered down, narrowly missing them. A Death Eater lunged at them, but Harry's elbow struck the attacker squarely, sending him stumbling back.
The noise was deafening as the shelves collapsed in on themselves, the disembodied voices of the Seers echoing eerily through the air. Hermione caught a glimpse of Ron, Ginny, and Luna sprinting past them, their arms shielding their heads from the falling debris. A Death Eater grabbed Harry's arm, but Hermione reacted instantly, shouting, "Stupefy!" The Death Eater was blasted back, freeing Harry and clearing the path ahead.
But then Hermione's heart skipped a beat—Neville was missing. She spun around, spotting him frozen with his wand aimed at Bellatrix Lestrange, his face contorted with fear and rage. "Neville!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation. "Please, come on! We need you!"
Neville snapped out of his daze and bolted towards her and Harry. Together, they turned and sprinted down the row, Harry leading the way as they raced towards the door they had entered through. The door was ajar, and Hermione could see the glittering light of the bell jar just beyond. They dove inside, slamming the door behind them.
"Colloportus!" Hermione gasped, sealing the door with a squelching noise.
"Where—where are the others?" Harry panted, his eyes wide with fear.
Hermione frantically scanned the room. "They must have gone the wrong way!" she whispered, terror lacing her voice.
"Listen!" Neville hissed, his voice barely audible over the chaos outside.
Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door they had just sealed. Harry pressed his ear close to it, straining to catch the words of the Death Eaters beyond. Lucius Malfoy's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, "Leave Nott, leave him, I say—his injuries will be nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Jugson, come back here, we need to organise! 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, 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!"
"What do we do?" Hermione whispered to Harry, her voice trembling as fear gripped her. She couldn't tell if the adrenaline coursing through her veins was fueled more by anger or terror. Her mind raced with worry for Ron and the others.
"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us for a start," Harry replied, his tone firm. "Let's get away from this door."
They moved swiftly and quietly, racing past the shimmering bell jar where the tiny egg was eternally hatching and unhatching. Just as they reached the exit to the circular hallway at the far end of the room, a loud crash behind them signalled that the Death Eaters had broken through the door Hermione had charmed shut.
"Stand aside!" barked a rough voice. "Alohomora!"
The door flew open, and Hermione, Harry, and Neville dove under desks, their hearts pounding. The bottoms of the two Death Eaters' robes came into view, their feet moving rapidly as they approached.
"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the rough voice.
"Check under the desks," another commanded.
Harry reacted instantly. "STUPEFY!" he shouted.
Hermione attempted to do the same, but the desk's edge obstructed her view. If only she could shift a few inches to the right, she'd have a clear shot—
"Avada—"
In a whirl of colour and motion, Hermione watched as Harry launched himself across the floor, grabbing the Death Eater around the knees. The force of the impact sent the Death Eater toppling backwards, his aim going awry. In his anxiety to help, Neville overturned a desk and pointed his wand wildly at the struggling pair.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Neville cried.
Both Harry's and the Death Eater's wands flew out of their hands, soaring towards the entrance of the Hall of Prophecy. Both combatants scrambled to their feet and charged after them, the Death Eater in the lead, Harry close behind, and Neville bringing up the rear, his face a mask of horror at what he had just done.
"Get out of the way, Harry!" Neville shouted, determined to make up for his earlier mistake.
Harry flung himself sideways as Neville took aim again and shouted, "STUPEFY!"
The jet of red light soared over the Death Eater's shoulder, smashing into a glass-fronted cabinet filled with variously shaped hourglasses. The cabinet crashed to the floor and burst apart, glass flying everywhere, only to magically spring back up onto the wall, fully mended, before shattering once more in a loop.
The Death Eater snatched up his wand from the floor beside the glittering bell jar, but his mask had slipped, obstructing his vision. He ripped it off with his free hand and shouted, "STUP—"
Hermione seized her chance, vehemently ignoring the fact that she had almost just been killed. "STUPEFY!" she screamed. The jet of red light struck the Death Eater square in the chest. He froze, his arm still raised, his wand clattering to the floor as he collapsed backwards towards the bell jar.
Hermione expected the man to hit the solid glass and slide to the floor, but instead, his head sank through the surface of the bell jar as though it were nothing but a soap bubble. He came to rest, sprawled on his back, with his head inside the jar full of glittering wind.
"Accio wand!" cried Hermione. Harry's wand flew from a dark corner into her hand, and she quickly tossed it to him.
"Thanks," Harry said, catching it. "Right, let's get out of—"
"Look out!" Neville's voice was filled with horror as he stared at the Death Eater's head inside the bell jar.
All three raised their wands, but none struck. They stood frozen in shock, their mouths open in disbelief at what they were witnessing.
The Death Eater's head was shrinking rapidly, growing balder and smoother as his hair and stubble retracted into his skull. His cheeks became smooth, and his skull took on a rounded, peach-like fuzz.
A baby's head now sat grotesquely atop the thick, muscled neck of the Death Eater as he struggled to rise. Even as they watched, their horror mounting, the head began to swell back to its previous proportions, thick black hair sprouting from the pate and chin once more.
"It's Time," Hermione whispered, her voice filled with awe. "Time…"
The Death Eater shook his grotesque head, trying to clear it, but before he could regain his senses, it began to shrink back into babyhood once more.
A sudden shout from a nearby room pierced the eerie silence, followed by a crash and a scream.
"RON?" Harry yelled, the name snapping Hermione out of her trance. "GINNY? LUNA?"
She took one last look at the Death Eater and screamed, "Harry!"
The Death Eater had pulled his head out of the bell jar. His appearance was utterly bizarre—a tiny baby's head bawling loudly while his thick arms flailed dangerously, narrowly missing Harry, who had ducked just in time. Harry raised his wand, but Hermione grabbed his arm.
"You can't hurt a baby!"
"Come on!" Harry urged, and they left the nightmarish, baby-headed Death Eater staggering behind them as they dashed for the door at the other end of the room, leading back into the black hallway.
They had made it halfway when Harry suddenly veered left, bursting into a small, dark, cluttered office and slamming the door behind them.
"Collo—" began Hermione, but before she could complete the spell, the door burst open, and two Death Eaters came hurtling inside.
With a cry of triumph, they both yelled, "IMPEDIMENTA!"
Hermione, Harry, and Neville were knocked backwards off their feet. Neville was thrown over a desk and disappeared from view; Harry slammed into the stone wall behind them; and Hermione crashed into a bookcase, which promptly collapsed, burying her under a cascade of heavy books that landed with painful thuds.
"WE'VE GOT HIM!" one of the Death Eaters yelled. "IN AN OFFICE OFF—"
"Silencio!" Hermione cried, and the man's voice was abruptly silenced. He continued to mouth words through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out. His fellow Death Eater thrust him aside.
"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Harry as the second Death Eater raised his wand. The man's arms and legs snapped together, and he fell forward, face-first onto the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.
"Well done, Ha—"
Hermione barely had time to register the slashing movement of Dolohov's arm before a streak of purple light shot towards her. Pain exploded in her chest as the curse struck her, stealing the breath from her lungs and sending her sprawling to the ground. The world blurred and darkened around her, the edges of her vision fading as she gasped in shock. Her thoughts splintered into fragments, the pain radiating through her body. And then, mercifully, everything went black.