Harry groggily opened his eyes, feeling sore all over his body. His hand involuntarily spasmed from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus.
Another thing he noticed was that he was bound with ropes and floating in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. It was also empty. The events of the last few hours, as well as the current time, hit him like a freight train. His eyes snapped fully open.
"Where is your wand, insolent child?" the hateful voice of Dolores Umbridge was heard a few feet in front of him. With some effort he tilted his head just enough to look at her. She was walking towards the lifts.
"I don't have it," he ground out through gritted teeth.
"Don't lie to me!" she shrieked as she pointed herwand towards him once more, its unusually sharp edge contrasted with how stubby it was. Umbridge screeched as she cast the torture spell upon him once more. "Crucio!"
A howl of pain escaped his lips as he was hit with the Merlin forsaken curse once more, yet it felt weaker than before. The effects ended and he was left gasping and writhing inside his bonds. Impotent rage filled him as he noticed they were nearing the golden grilles of the Ministry's internal transportation..
'Relashio, Relashio, Relashio,' he chanted over and over in his head, trying to manipulate the flow of magic within his own body in an attempt to cancel the Incarcerous wandlessly.
"I couldn't find your wand on you. You don't have a holster, where is it? Answer me boy!"
Harry refused to speak, desperately trying his hardest to conjure a miracle.
Umbridge stepped inside the lift and Harry's floating body followed.
'Come on, magic. Work with me. Relashio.'
"It's no matter," she murmured to herself as she pressed a button and the grilles started closing.
'Come on!'
"Your secrets will be known soon enough, and hopefully he won't let you live," she continued with a manic gleam in her eyes. "Finally, the lying, delusional, filthy half-blood will join his mudblood mother and I will be rewarded for it."
The golden grates closed and the machine started moving, a moment later Harry's magic flared and he yelled.
"RELASHIO!"
Suddenly, the ropes tying him at first loosened and then turned to ash from the power of the spell, then gravity claimed his mass, throwing him to the floor the moment Umbridge's levitation spell broke. He released his wand from the invisible basilisk leather holster tied to his forearm. Umbridge's shocked gaze turned towards him and she tried to hex him once more, but she was too late as he immediately cast a silent banisher that knocked her into the walls of the lift.
For but a moment she seemed unconscious and Harry let out a sigh of relief, the moment he did so and began to relax as much as he could, the crazed Undersecretary screeched and launched herself at him. In an attempt to stop her hands from assaulting his face Harry tried to backstep, falling to the floor in the process once more. Umbridge landed on top of him, and with incoherent screams and expletives she clawed at his face, trying to gouge his eyes out with one hand as she attempted to stab him with her wand in the other. The brawl lasted for several moments before Harry managed to free himself, knocking Umbridge onto her back.
He jumped up, turned his wand towards the vile woman and poured his might into a single spell.
"Ventus Maxima!"
The blast of wind immediately pinned Umbridge to the floor with enough pressure to make her eyes bulge, as the rest of the wind left through the golden latticework of the lift's entrance, creating a deafening, whistle-like sound around them.
As Umhbridge tried to guard herself from the wind, she struggled to raise the hand with her wand in it, preparing to cast a spell, but Harry pushed at his magic to make the wind stronger, trying to force her hand back down, or disarm her. He got his wish. As Umbridge struggled to cast an incantation, her stake-like wand was forced from her hand and with a quelch, was forced into the floor alongside it's mistress by the gale.
Harry's eyes widened the moment he noticed Umbridge's short wand pierce her throat and the spell ended automatically as he lost focus, entranced in morbid horror by the scene in front of him.
The woman tried to screech in defiance, but choked on the blood spilling forth from her neck, where her wand had penetrated it.. Even when knocking at Death's door, she managed to find the energy and will to look at Harry with pure, unadulterated hatred before her eyes glazed over and her body went limp, as her face kept the scowl of hatred it had borne during her final moments.
Harry tried to process the event. Everything had happened so fast, much too fast. The result was him killing Dolores Umbridge, albeit unwillingly and in self defence. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to feel remorse or even guilt over his actions. The only thing he felt was relief.
'If I ever feel remorse for her death, it won't be today…' he thought as he looked outside the golden grilles of the moving lift. 'I have no idea where she wanted to take me. Nor who would take my 'secrets'.'
The lift suddenly froze momentarily, before continuing its path onwards with a downwards dive, abruptly stopping at the start of an awfully familiar path right before an ethereal voice was heard.
"Department of Mysteries."
The golden doors of the lift slid open, revealing three men standing halfway down the hallway.
Harry's eyes narrowed as he saw Corban Yaxley, Malfoy Sr. and a man he knew only from The Prophet, Augustus Rookwood, who looked infinitely worse than his pictures suggested. He looked extremely emaciated and his hair had turned completely white due to Dementor exposure. Yet his eyes were extremely sharp and gave the feeling of great intelligence. He looked like he had his mental faculties almost intact.
Perhaps that was also the reason he looked completely ruined by his incarceration.
Yaxley's gaze was locked with Harry's before his eyes roamed towards the bloody and still figure of Umbridge.
"Harry Potter. What a great boy you are, doing us a favour before even meeting us properly," Yaxley drawled with a voice that easily carried across the hallway, no matter how low it was. "Dolores had outlived her usefulness."
Harry's wand arm spasmed slightly as he spit a mouthful of blood to the black marble floor.
'Fucking banshee did a number on me.'
"I don't need praise from bootlicking scum, Yaxley."
"Insolent child," Malfoy Sr. hissed as he started walking towards him. "You are at our mercy. You'd best make sure you remember it." Yaxley's arm immediately raised itself in order to prevent Lucius from stepping closer, as well as to remind him of their mission.
"You will come with us, Potter. We will venture into the Department of Mysteries where you will retrieve a prophecy and give it to us, to deliver it to our lord. Rookwood will take us there," Yaxley spoke in the same quiet tone as he beckoned towards the door with one hand, while he was aiming his wand pitch-black wand at him with the other.
Harry, for his part, remained silent and observant for some moments. Despite the adrenaline high he was riding, his mind was working into overdrive, trying to think of a way to escape the three Death Eaters. He knew it was futile, but he also knew he was relatively safe; they wouldn't dare kill him and they wouldn't attempt to hurt him too much, lest they render him unable to retrieve the prophecy.
With a deep breath, followed by a long sigh, he started walking with faux confidence towards them.
Nobody paid attention to the lift closing behind the Boy-Who-Lived, thinking the automatic enchantments had taken it back to the atrium.
X
Harry's friends all flooed into the Ministry atrium, the first being Hermione and the last being Susan. Not a single student cared about the soot of the fireplace as they all moved with a single sense of purpose and determination, their eyes instantly seeking the lifts - Hermione followed Ron wherever he went due to it being her first time inside of the Ministry.
"I think I heard someone enter the office as I left," Susan commented lightly as they started walking towards the lifts.
"Maybe it was Professor Snape," Hermione said in a quiet voice, her eyes darting around the empty area. "Is it normal for it to be so empty?"
Daphne flourished her wand as she muttered a Tempus, which showed the time as being 2 A.M. "Well, it should be completely empty. Maybe there are Aurors stationed in the DMLE offices for night shifts."
"There is no budget for night shifts, Daphne," Susan murmured as she fingered her wand. "The budget of the DMLE has never been as low as it currently is." She appeared sceptical for a moment before shrugging to herself. "At least that's what Auntie says."
"Guys, what is that thing?" Hermione's voice was heard - it noise seemed deafening compared to the almost whispered conversations they had been having thus far. Her hand was raised and she was pointing a rather accusing finger towards the main landmark of the atrium.
"The Fountain of Magical Brethren," Neville replied, being the one to answer her question. "It is supposed to represent unity, or something along those lines."
"I have never seen a goblin look at a wizard like that. Even the House-Elf looks too amazed by the witch; and I've met Dobby," Hermione commented with a grimace of disgust. Ron shook his head in amusement as he pushed her further along the path.
"You can change it when you get a job in the Ministry, 'Mione," he chuckled as his hand stopped pushing her when she was finally past the fountain. He earned a huff of indignation for his efforts.
"Look," Daphne suddenly said. "That lift is gone. They should all be stationed here," she said as she pointed towards the middle one. While the others were visible behind the golden frames, the middle slot was completely dark. Susan suddenly moved forward and pressed her wand to the grilles. The silence was broken by a metallic sound coming from the empty space, letting them know that the lift was in motion.
They waited before Susan's eyes lit in recognition.
"It's coming from below. They went to the Department of Mysteries. Or to the courtrooms, but I doubt that," she spoke in a monologue with the others simply listening to her. Hermione and Ron chose not to comment on the Department of Mysteries being the only place that they could've gone to, because of course Harry would end up there!
The lift slowly came into view. "But why would she take… him…" Everyone froze as the bars slid sideways, putting the interior on full display, for all of them to see. "Oh my god."
On the side, Umbridge's corpse was laid upon the golden floor, with a pool of blood upon and around her pale, lifeless body. The short, sharp wand that they had seen her torturing Harry with just half an hour earlier was impaled through her throat, pushing into the wooden floor of the lift.
Most eerily, Umbridge died with a look of sheer hatred on her face. A scowl was faintly visible upon her face, even with her muscles relaxing in the moment that she died, while her dull, lifeless eyes gave the impression of a glare.
"Who did this…?" Hermione asked in complete shock as she covered her mouth with her hand.
"Harry did," came the answer from Daphne as she looked at the corpse without a single emotion visible upon her face. "I don't see any other reason Umbridge died looking… like that."
"No! Harry surely didn't do this!" Hermione nearly shouted as she looked at Daphne with indignant rage. "Harry is good! She must have been double crossed by the ones she helped! Yes, that must be it!"
"Don't be daft," Daphne responded. "Look at her. You can feel the hate she felt. I haven't seen death before, but I'm sure it doesn't usually look like that. Besides, it's unnecessary. They usually use the killing curse…"
"No. I refuse to believe that he killed someone!"
"Hermione," Ron interjected with a voice resembling a whisper. "Harry killed Quirrell when he was eleven."
"That was unintentional!" She responded hotly, only for Ron to meet her gaze head on.
"Exactly," was the only reply as he moved towards the lift next to the one they called, opening the latticework of metal that enclosed the lift.
Hermione, seemingly placated with the possibility of it being an accident, almost ran inside the lift, the others following shortly behind her. Susan wordlessly pressed the rune cluster that would lead them to Level Nine, directly below them.
X
"Don't be stupid, Siri," Andromeda Tonks née Black huffed, sitting on Sirius' left on the long table in the dining hall of Grimmauld Place. Almost all of the Order's best fighters had been gathered on short notice. For once, Sirius was thankful for the existence of Severus Snape.
"I will not let my godson down, Andy. Not again," he said with an air of finality.
"Sirius, please, you're still-"
"There is no still. I have been training for something like this, to protect him the way that they would have wanted. The best way that I can protect him ever since I was locked into this Merlin forsaken house. I've been eating well, I finally look every bit the lady killer that I was and my skills are near to the level they were before I was imprisoned," he cut her off with an almost childlike degree of indignation.
He wasn't entirely wrong, of course. He had put on a considerable, but healthy amount of weight and his face no longer looked so gaunt. His black, wavy hair had regained the lustre and he was clean shaven apart from a small, stylish-looking beard and moustache. His eyes had regained the shine of life - not fully, but it was there. The only remnants of his dark past being the haunted look in his grey eyes, and the white hairs that he would never rid himself of - and that was only because he refused to charm them back to black, claiming 'Witches like older wizards'.
Andromeda merely sighed in response, completely resigned from trying to dissuade him from joining the Order's expedition to the Ministry. Her eyes - black like a beetle rather than the grey of her cousin - roamed across the table, observing the members in attendance.
Moody was - of course - ready as always, his face set in grim determination. She was fairly positive his facial expression never changed. Remus was also there, with her daughter awfully close to him. She smirked at her daughter's antics as she observed the rest.
Kingsley, Arthur Weasley and Minerva McGonagall - who had appeared at the hideout and home of her forefathers earlier that night, after escaping Umbridge and her Aurors - were the other occupants of the room.
"We should be going," Minerva spoke as she rose from her seat.
"Aye. The more we dally, the less we can do," Alastor agreed and all the others followed suit. In silence they gathered the essentials and started to move towards the entrance of the house. They didn't manage to exit, however, before the fireplace roared to life, its flames turning green as the floo activated and a tall, elderly woman with plain black robes and a black vulture hat stepped through the fireplace.
Eight wands immediately had her raising her hands in a placating manner. Most of them went limp in recognition.
"Who told her the secret?" Moody ground out with his gruff voice.
"I did. I asked Augusta to join the Order this summer," McGonagall replied as she also lowered her wand. "Augusta. What are you doing here? You did refuse to join us, after all," McGonagall asked as she stepped forward to greet her. Augusta Longbottom raised her head and regarded her old friend with a sad smile.
"I've kept my son and my daughter-in-law's Order medallions. They're always with the one you gave me during summer, Minerva," she said in way of an answer. Her countenance seemed slightly sadder as she reminisced of her son and the woman he had married. The sadness immediately gave way to something everyone else shared - determination. "I have always berated poor Neville for his inclinations. I have always chastised the poor boy for his performance and tried to guide him towards his father's path. My Neville is meant for big things, great things."
With steely eyes she strode forward towards the exit of Grimmauld Place, knowing where it was due to past visits to the ancestral home of the Blacks.
"The moment I heard the message left by Snape, I decided that I would no longer sit idly by in a war that will consume us all. I lost a son and a daughter in the last war, as I stood upon the sidelines, watching the horror unfold. Now my grandson, the little boy that I have always tried to steer towards becoming a great man, is barging into the Ministry in the middle of the night, willing to fight in order to help his friend… Just like his father always did. I remain passive no longer. I will fight with you, alongside my family, if only to see the events unfold in favour of the good that we're all trying to protect."
"How do you even know your grandson is at the Ministry? We don't know who went after Potter in the first place," Moody, ever vigilant, asked the elderly witch. In response, she only turned her head slightly to the side to glare at him with one eye.
"Harry Potter is a dear friend to Neville and they've grown quite close this year," she turned her head forwards once more and her hand grabbed the door knob. "He would never leave a friend behind."
X
The spinning room did nothing to help Harry's current predicament, adding nausea to the rapidly increasing list of his discomforts. Rookwood had spent an inordinate amount of time navigating the constantly rotating paths in order to find what he had named 'The Hall of Prophecies'. Apparently, he couldn't use his wand to summon the correct Room as he didn't have one registered with the Department ever since his original was snapped when his sentence was delivered.
He was entering a room and exiting from a different door, constantly naming random rooms like the 'Life Room' and the 'Love Room'. Harry was oddly amused knowing the Unspeakables studied the magic tied to the emotion of love.
Perhaps Dumbledore was right all along.
As for his treatment, he had no complaints. Malfoy Sr. was unreasonably rough in trying to restrain him with an Incarcerous that ended up way too tight at first, before Yaxley loosened the ropes without freeing him. They were clearly unwilling to harm him even just a tiny bit. Perhaps the careful treatment was not by choice, but Harry didn't dwell on that.
Instead, he was thinking of how to actually escape. The feeling of dread was slowly but steadily building up. Freeing himself would be a wasted effort since his wand was in Yaxley's possession - he wasn't even sure if he could replicate the miracle he had pulled with Umbridge.
Stray thoughts of his friends informing Snape or anyone else from the Order helped soothe his well-hidden anxiety. The wild idea that came next plunged his heart into despair.
'Surely they didn't try to come here, did they? Surely Hermione wouldn't let them follow Umbridge. She's smarter than that.'
His musings were broken by the emaciated Death Eater bursting from a door directly opposite from them, holding it open. He had a look of relief and satisfaction in his eyes.
"Found it. Hurry up," he simply said as he beckoned for them to pick up the pace, despite his allies walking with a relatively fast pace, with the bound and floating body of Harry following behind them.
The moment they crossed the threshold, Rookwood closed the door behind them and Harry felt himself freed from his binds. Lifting his body from the cold floor - on which he was unceremoniously dropped - he took his chance to observe the Hall of Prophecies.
The room was immeasurably large; both in height and width. Harry could not see the ceiling of the room, while the shelves with the glowing spheres stretched to what seemed like the horizon in front of him. The sheer size of the place made him queasy and no matter how hard he tried to guess how many prophecies were stored, he couldn't decide if it were hundreds, thousands or even millions.
That thought alone made him feel an impending headache forming in the back of his head.
"The more you try to count, the more confused you'll get," Rookwood's voice was heard from what felt like miles away. "Ignore everything except your goal and you'll see the truth."
'An illusion. That explains it,' Harry thought as he closed his eyes and breathed. The headache receded and when he opened his eyes he focused on the orbs themselves. From the corner of his vision he could see a clearly defined wall, quite far along their path.
The pale and starved Death Eater walked past him with purposeful strides before stopping and turning his eyes towards Harry. His gaze completely startled him and caught him off guard. He saw absolutely no malice in his eyes, no disdain, none of the sentiments shared by basically every other Death Eater that Harry had encountered.
No, Rookwood he would only describe as serene. Oddly serene. He then felt a slight probing inside his mind for less than a split second. He immediately tried to defend from the intrusion, but he failed. The Legilimency probe was so potent and subtle, Harry only knew that it had rooted itself into his mind thanks to an ethereal and healthy vision of Augustus Rookwood merging with the emaciated Death Eater in front of him.
"Follow me, Heir of Death," Rookwood's voice was heard in Harry's head and the boy - rather dumbly - followed him.
As he was led towards what he knew was the prophecy, he tried to understand what Rookwood meant with his words. No matter how hard he thought, he could not understand what the 'Heir of Death' was. Apparently, the 'who' was him.
One thing he did know was that Augustus Rookwood was not who he appeared to be. Apart from that, he knew not what he represented nor what his agenda might be. He was a Death Eater and that was enough for Harry at that moment.
"Here. The prophecy," the grey-haired man leading them announced and Harry turned his eyes towards the inconspicuous orb he was pointing to.
The prophecy - his prophecy - felt and looked more important than any other orb stored in the Hall. With an odd feeling of fascination and purpose he reached out and grabbed the orb with a tight grip.
The placard that read 'S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D - Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter' dangled feebly from the orb as Harry paid no heed to it. He had closed his eyes the moment his mind was assaulted by the vision of Sybil Trelawney speaking in a powerful voice; one that Harry had been uncomfortably familiar with since his Third Year.
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'
The moment the prophecy ended, Harry took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes.
He wanted to fuss over the knowledge, to try and think about the meaning behind it. Yet he knew he couldn't do much else other than file it away within his mind. His situation did not call for intensive thought.
"Well, Potter. You did your job. Now, give it to us and we'll make sure the Dark Lord receives you safe and sound," Yaxley's voice broke Harry's incessant musings.
He didn't answer.
"Give us the prophecy," Lucius ground out as he pulled his wand from his cane and aimed it threateningly at Harry.
"Is this old thing really that important to Voldemort?"
"Don't you dare speak his name!" Yaxley spat, his half-confident, half-amused facade broken the moment Harry even thought of defying them. Yet neither he nor Malfoy moved to strike him - Rookwood, having moved several paces behind them, didn't even make a move for his temporary wand.
Harry grinned slightly as realisation hit him and then raised the hand holding the prophecy above his head. His grip was dangerously lax and everyone noticed.
"Be careful with that," Yaxley hissed as he made a move to reach him, yet Harry jerked his hand in a manner that caused the Death Eater to stumble.
"Or what? You'll stun me? You'll hit me? Will you risk the safety of your boss' precious prophecy?" he asked in a mocking manner that surfaced along with his confidence. Despite his lack of a wand, he had them both effectively useless with the leverage he owned.
Both Death Eaters had no answer to Harry's antics as they both realised they found themselves at a disadvantage. Lucius then had the epiphany to summon the prophecy.
His spell did absolutely nothing and Rookwood actually snorted behind them.
"You daft fools. You can't summon a prophecy. Even if you could, your brain would be fried upon contact since he didn't give it to you willingly," the emaciated man mocked as he moved forward to stand between them, side-eying them in turn with a clear distaste for them upon his gaunt face. "You asked for my help in this mission for our Lord and subsequently completely ignored everything that I told you. You had the brilliant plan of kidnapping the boy and having him fetch the prophecy for you. You thought he would be scared shitless, that he would comply immediately, giving you the prophecy and begging for mercy in the process. He, who our Lord himself has targeted." As he briefly stopped his tirade, the mockery and disdain vanished from his expression, leaving his face looking completely blank and emotionless.
"I told you this plan of yours was completely stupid and would never work. You chose to ignore me and look at you now. Weak in your knees, feeling your end looming above your heads while at the mercy of a wandless fucking boy!" Rookwood roared the last words in Yaxley's face and Harry could see the spittle hit the man's face even at his distance. Neither dared fight back against the scathing words directed towards them.
Rookwood once more paced backwards, as if letting them handle their own mistakes. "Let me see you convince the boy to spare your hides and to actually help you willingly in your mission." Neither moved. "Go on then. Beg him! Grovel before him, if you must. I just want to see your brilliant plan-"
His tirade was broken by a voice that sounded as if it had come separately from the robes of the three men, yet at the same time like a lone voice.
"The Order has entered the Ministry. Hurry up, you don't have time," the voice, one that Harry didn't recognise said and Rookwood chuckled darkly.
"And that is my favourite part of the night. The brilliant idea of kidnapping Harry fucking Potter from Hogwarts," he said as he turned around and started walking towards the wall where a door materialised. He exited the Hall of Prophecies without another word, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy and Yaxley.
"Potter. Give us the prophecy," Yaxley ground out as he took a step towards him.
"Give me my wand," Harry retorted almost casually, leaning heavily on his position and further emboldened by Rookwood, of all people.
Yet his plan backfired slightly as the slightly crazed Death Eater suddenly got a sinister glint in his eyes, pulling the holly and phoenix feather wand from his pocket in the process.
"If you want it, give me the prophecy."
"You are in no position to make demands, Yaxley," Harry responded in a cold tone, eying his precious wand warily. "You'll give me the wand, or I'll break the prophecy."
"I'll break your wand if you don't give me the prophecy," the elder man responded as he grabbed the ends of the wand with his hands.
"Corban," Malfoy quietly spoke from his side, eyeing his actions warily. He was ignored.
"Don't do something you'll regret," Harry said as panic gripped his heart at seeing his wand slowly start to bend and creak under the pressure of the man's fingers.
"Corban, don't be foolish," Malfoy hissed as he too heard the creaking of the wand under Yaxley's pressure, slowly pushing it, right to the edge of breaking.
"You don't have any more time, Potter," Yaxley spat as his eyes had a manic gleam to them, one caused by the mind-numbing fear of impending failure he felt. The fear of the punishment that his Lord might inflict should he return empty-handed.
"Corban no!" Lucius roared as he saw cracks start to appear upon the wand.
Harry watched in pure horror as his wand, his faithful companion since the day he had first walked into Diagon Alley - since his second day of being a wizard - was pushed beyond the brink. It snapped with a sickening crack that echoed along the pathways between the shelves of the Hall of Prophecies. His shock rapidly morphed into one of uncontained rage as his magic flared wildly around him, accompanied by a rapidly increasing smell of ozone, causing the shelved glass orbs to rattle on their stands.
The Death Eater tossed the two halves of the broken holly wand to the floor right in front of Harry's feet. Harry could see the remains of Fawkes' feather, the heart of his wand, poking from its bisected wooden body. "See what your disobedience has caused me to do, Potter. You made me do this! Now, give us the-"
His speech was interrupted by the pale blue orb that held the prophecy smashing into his face with a crunch, undoubtedly breaking his nose as well as the orb itself in the process. The moment the prophecy cracked, a plume of smoke erupted from it, blinding both Harry and Lucius; Corban was immediately knocked out cold by the harsh impact.
Harry rushed to Corban's fallen figure - picking up the two halves of his wand in the process - and threw his body upon the unconscious Death Eater. As Harry reached his body, where it lay upon the cold, stone floor, Harry searched the Death Eater's inner robe pockets for the man's wand. He knew where to search as he saw him put it there the moment he had pulled out Harry's own.
"You're a fool Potter! You'll kill us all!" Malfoy roared from his side, before unleashing a stunner on him. The scarlet spell went wide and Harry immediately turned the stolen wand towards the sound.
"Expelliarmus!"
The wand belonging to Malfoy, unprepared for the Potter boy's response, left his hand, bouncing off its master's chest and to the floor, where Harry wasted no time in catching it. With the distraction of Malfoy losing his wand, the Gryffindor immediately got to his feet and started running towards the exit Rookwood had made. Malfoy ran desperately behind him.
"Give me my wand back, Potter!" the man roared as he tried his hardest to run without tripping over his robes.
Harry turned his head, a sinister idea gripping him as he tossed Yaxley's wand to him. Malfoy immediately stopped running to grab it, failing to notice Harry taking aim.
"Bombarda!"
The Exploding-Curse found its mark on Yaxley's wand, completely destroying it, showering Malfoy with sharp splinters, and eliciting a howl of pain from the older man.
Not bothering to stop, Harry went through the exit and the door slammed shut behind him.
Instead of the rotating room of doors, however, he found himself falling across what looked like the universe itself.
X
"Those stupid fools!"
A shrill shriek was heard across every inch of Malfoy Manor, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Both of these events were caused by one Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, who in her rage had blasted the massive window in the back wall of the drawing room.
Her sister, Narcissa Malfoy née Black repaired the damage rather absentmindedly.
"What happened, Bella?" she asked cordially the moment her spell had finished its course.
"If you had joined us instead of merely observing us, you'd know by now!" her sister half-yelled in response.
Bellatrix Lestrange was the most trusted lieutenant of the Dark Lord. Her loyalty was always rewarded and she always produced results. She was an extremely powerful witch, talented not just in magic, but inventive in the way she bent it to her master's will. She was also cunning and intelligent. Those traits were all more than enough to spark fear in the hearts of citizens that heard her name or her shrill, maniacal laugh as she slaughtered whomever she or her Lord deemed fit to die. None of those traits had been diminished in the slightest during her incarceration. The only flaw in her existence was her character itself.
In one word, Bellatrix Lestrange was a complete psychopath. The pain and suffering of others gave her happiness, whilst the same such pain and suffering, when inflicted upon her caused her excitement, ecstasy even. Her thought process was always the same; if her prey was talented enough to hurt her, then it was prey worth killing in the most gruesome of ways. Her madness was easy to discern even during her earliest years, their parents, Cygnus and Druella Black had often caught her torturing animals before killing them with the kitchen knives or a wand that she had pinched from one of the adults in the family. Even before that, her first bout of accidental magic was the Torture Curse, casting it on their mother as she was crying to be fed.
Her very nature had brought her to Voldemort during her school years, where she found purpose in her madness. She was his sword against the sanity of men, his shield from their light. She left destruction, death and madness in her wake in the battles she waged in his name. She had never known true peace, even amongst the Dark Lord's forces, she enraged and maddened her compatriots, causing fights and arguments. Her very presence on the field was enough to cause lesser wizards to retreat for fear of her wandwork.
On the opposite side of the spectrum and in complete contrast to her, her sister Narcissa found herself right in the heart of Britain's dark underbelly without any real choice in the matter.
Narcissa was a kind woman at heart, one who valued family above all else. The only 'blood' she had ever cared for was the blood of the Blacks. Muggleborns, Half-bloods and even other Purebloods were of no consequence to her if they were not Black by blood, but even to them she was cordial and friendly, sometimes even going against the wishes of her mother. Some scant few times she acted cordially if only to show the world the Blacks were a family of integrity and character.
Yet, despite her beliefs, and where she stood in the world, she found herself in Voldemort's inner circle, without a clear way to escape, for both her and her son, whom she viewed as the most important figure in her life. All thanks to her pathetic husband.
She had never loved Lucius Malfoy, not for a single moment in their long marriage, disliking him even prior to their union. Her mother had signed off on the marriage contract with Abraxas Malfoy, despite her husband's protests. Cygnus Black hadn't deem Lucius fit enough to clean their dragonhide boots with his tongue. Druella however had ignored his wishes and married her off to the Malfoys in the middle of the night as her husband was sleeping. Arcturus Black, the Head of House at the time, had passed an actual House law, stating that both sides of a marriage would have equal authority over their children's marriages, which meant that Druella could sign the contract without Cygnus' consent. Lord Arcturus was a fair and noble lord, but Narcissa couldn't help but regret just how fair-minded he was. After that she'd led a boring, miserable life as the wife of a con-man and colossal bootlicker.
Thankfully, she was 'allowed' to live her life as she saw fit as long as she was discreet. An allowance she capitalised on with the added bonus of freely venting her frustrations to the men that she allowed into her bed.
Those days had ended the moment the Dark Lord returned and Narcissa tried her hardest to find a way to escape the side of her husband and take her son with. While she wished she could marry Draco off to a Light family, to organise something similar to what had happened to her, she couldn't. Druella didn't have the shadow of Death, which took the form of her husband and his Lord, looming over her head like Narcissa did.
More than once she considered the offer Harry Potter had given her during the Yule holidays. Ever since then, every single thing that could go wrong not only occured, but inevitably went worse than she'd ever thought it would. Her attempts to help her son back upon the right path had failed spectacularly. In fact, her little Dragon strayed further away from redemption every day that passed.
After the holidays he had gloated about putting Potter in the Hospital Wing, for forcing him to defend other students that were endangered by his spell. That was when she had realised that Draco thought her one of Voldemort's pawns. That realisation alone made her sadder than she ever thought possible.
Every single thing she ever tried to teach him was gone in the wind caused by the calamity that went by Lucius Malfoy.
After that, when Draco sent messages to her, it was simply to whine at the injustice of him being punished for trying to teach Potter his place. Other messages were made for the simple purpose of whining about his political rival in Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass, openly showing her affection for Potter.
Good, the girl had a brain and eyes that worked well. No wonder she had chosen Potter. If she was honest to herself, she would admit that she would fall head over heels for the boy too if she was his age.
Odd thoughts aside, eventually she came to the realisation that Potter was right. Her son would never choose her over his father. Rather, he would view her offer as one of betrayal and would earn his disdain. That thought alone broke her.
She could do nothing about it anymore, however. She had tried her hardest, but the situation was the same as it had been when she'd met Potter over the Holidays.
Now, as Bellatrix ranted about her husband's ineptitude for the umpteenth time, she once more thought of Potter's offer and it seemed more attractive than ever before. Ever since that fateful meeting, she had lost almost everything that had once held her in Malfoy Manor.
"Cissy, do you even hear me?" Bellatrix asked with a whiny drawl as she caught her sister losing herself in her thoughts. Narcissa's eyes snapped towards the black-haired witch.
"Yes, I do. But I cannot understand what you want from me. Just gather your little pawns and go save their operation."
"I asked you to come with me."
Narcissa lifted a single eyebrow. "No."
"You can't stay in this house forever, Cissy. You will be forced to fight at some point and what better occasion than this? We can torture Potter and the Order members together!" she said with a wide grin and a glint of excitement in her eyes.
Narcissa nearly gagged. She never did like her sister, but she was blood. She would always value blood above all else.
"I am still not obligated to follow."
"Narcissa. You will come. The Dark Lord has been asking for your attendance on our missions, for you to finally prove yourself to him, and you are dangerously close to having him force you. I'm sure you don't want that," Bella stated in a matter of fact tone that completely shattered Narcissa's illusion of choice. She had no escape from that, but she could use it.
She knew Potter was there; hell, he was the whole target of their stupid operation. Now, the Order was there too. Perhaps she could use the opportunity.
The realisation that there would be no other opportunity to escape, her husband, his Lord or her insane sister, reared its ugly head.
"Fine. I will come. But I need to gather some things before I join you. You may go ahead," she responded with a dismissive hand wave as she sat up from her armchair.
"Cissy, if you don't come-"
"I will. I can no longer afford to wait before I decide for myself."
Bellatrix flashed her a crooked smile and she disapparated with a crack. The lone Black sister smirked as she thought of how different her idea of what to come was from Bellatrix's own. She sat back down to finish her tea, savouring the sweet taste that she would soon leave behind, along with everything else she once thought important. Her personal belongings would leave alongside her - belongings that floated to the drawing room from her bedroom, guided by her wand's intricate movements.
As she gathered the last of her personal effects and finished her tea, her concentration was broken by a sound akin to a cannon coming from outside the house.
She immediately jumped up and tried to gather her items faster with frantic movements, nearly managing to get her last piece of clothing before the window of the drawing room shattered - again - and the shadow of a floating man was cast over her. She also found herself completely frozen in the man's presence due to a spell she knew all too well thanks to her father.
It was a Black Family Spell.
"Hello, Cissy. Long time no see!" The man greeted jovially and caused Narcissa's heart to nearly malfunction.
Suddenly, she found herself able to move once more and she slowly turned her head towards the one armed man riding a broomstick beside her. Her eyes widened and her heart pounded wildly as her Occlumency proved woefully inadequate against the appearance of a man she- nay, everyone thought dead for the last almost twenty years. He was no illusion; an illusion would show her the man as she last saw him. The man casually floating inside her fucking drawing room was aged and was missing a whole arm from the shoulder down.
Yet, there was no doubt. He was her cousin, alive and in perfect health… Well, mostly.
"I see you're going somewhere. Somewhere important, no doubt. Question is… Can I join you?" Regulus Arcturus Black asked with a crooked grin.
X
Daphne, despite her legendary capabilities in terms of patience, found her capacity for it dwindling rapidly at that moment in time.
Then again, ever since their fateful meeting in October, she'd had almost no patience with matters relating to Harry Potter. It didn't matter what the occasion was, she'd possessed no patience whatsoever if she thought there was an opportunity to have another taste of him.
Yes, she felt as if she was in love with him. She had accepted it when they nearly kissed in that empty classroom. She had always known of the possibility that her childish crush would grow stronger, and thus was ready to accept it.
And grow stronger it did. Every day they met, her feelings intensified as she got to know him better. His noble and kind character, the thirst for knowledge surrounding the world she was born in coupled with his often hidden intelligence, the innate charm he had and not to mention the - at least in her opinion - incredible looks. More than once per day she sought his eyes, trying to lose herself in them.
The fact he used those eyes to look at her like he did… After some point - Daphne didn't know when that started - Harry had started looking at her with what she could only feel was adoration. He looked at her with an incredibly warm, kind look that made her insides squirm, as if she was the most important woman in the world to him. She felt precious and wanted under his gaze and that intensified her own feelings tenfold.
That was why, as the group searched futilely the myriad of rooms in the Department of Mysteries for Harry, her patience was rapidly depleting.
They had visited an inordinate amount of weird and wacky rooms with no sign of either him or any sort of Death Eater.
"I swear to Merlin we are running in circles. We have been inside that creepy brain room three times and if we go there for a fourth time, I'll flip my lid!" Daphne suddenly snapped, helping absolutely no one, as every member of their group was just as irritated with the situation as she was.
Except Susan, who constantly tried to appease them. "Guys, we are not Unspeakables, we cannot navigate this place properly."
Her soothing words were promptly ignored as they entered another room. It was thankfully different from every room they had been met with so far.
They all fell silent as an assault of various shades of pink and red assaulted their eyes. There were no discernible features in the room apart from the sheer size it had. The walls, ceiling and floor too were riddled with ever so slightly protruding lines that looked awfully like transparent veins, through which a glowing purple liquid seemed to flow. A haze too was covering every single cubic foot of the room.
Everyone had a dopey look about their faces as they inhaled the hazy fog whirling around. Daphne couldn't snap them out of it, as she too was lost in the smell of broom polish mixed with a non-discernible woody and spicy scent, combined with, oddly enough, ozone. Unconsciously, she started walking aimlessly not knowing that the others were acting exactly the same behind her, trying to chase the scent that assaulted her nose and heart, and caused her to feel oddly warm and comforted.
She knew, deep in the recesses of her mind, that the entire experience was fake. Yet she couldn't stop trying to chase the intense, and all too familiar feeling the room caused in her psyche. The feeling she only felt when he was with her. Suddenly, something stirred in front of her and the sight of bright, emerald green eyes caused her breath to hitch.
"Harry… I found you," she said in a husky whisper as she broke into a run and slammed on him, hugging him tightly. She felt the one she hugged stiffen and her mind processed the fact that she barely reached the man's neck. Shock gave way to realisation as she felt hair on her face, tickling her nose uncomfortably. She knew well enough that Harry's hair wasn't nearly long enough to fall upon her face, especially with their current height difference.
She snapped her head upwards and came face to face with Lucius Malfoy and his grimace of disgust.
Her shrill scream of abrupt terror broke the others from their daydreams and the Banishing Charm she followed with caused them to draw their wands and run to her location.
As they all gathered around her, the haze seemed to disappear and they could clearly see the platinum blonde man on the floor, clutching his ribs painfully.
Much to Daphne's shock and curiosity, Malfoy's face was riddled with still bleeding cuts, and multiple tears riddled his robes. Another point of interest was the fact the man didn't have a wand drawn and didn't seem to be attempting to draw one.
"Where's Harry?" Ron growled as he pointed his wand menacingly at the Death Eater who, despite his disadvantage, didn't even flinch.
"The boy ran. He is either out of the Department or still lost within it," the man spat as he tried to stand up. His eyes briefly landed upon Daphne and a spark of anger flitted through his eyes.
"How many of you are here?" Ron asked once more, his anger making his face turn slightly red.
"I don't have to answer to a Weasley. The only thing you should know is that you made a mistake following your friend and that it's too late to fix it."
A red beam immediately shot from Daphne's wand and Malfoy slumped on the floor unconscious. Hermione followed her stunner up with ropes, tightly binding the Death Eater.
"So… What do we do with this?" Neville asked as he prodded the unconscious man with his wand after finding none on his person. "He's wandless, bound and unconscious. Should we, I don't know. Take him with us?"
"Bad idea," Susan murmured in reply, ignoring their catch in favour of finding an exit. "We should leave him here for the Aurors to collect him. I wouldn't want to be associated with… well, anything involving him."
Hums of agreement were heard from the group. A few seconds later, Susan called them towards a door she had found and they all decided to ignore the Death Eater.
"Um. Do you want to discuss our experience here?" Neville asked with a gesture around the room. A chorus of denials was the answer.
He didn't get the chance to chuckle as they all found themselves falling the moment they crossed the threshold. Screams of panic were heard all around the cavernous room before they were abruptly stopped, just a few inches above ground, letting them get back to their feet properly.
As Daphne mimicked the others and looked around her, trying to understand where they had ended up. She quickly scanned the rather ludicrous amount of doors that were situated at random heights and locations across the walls of the chamber - even the ceiling had a single door that looked as if it opened downwards. Her eyes then dropped from the door and landed on a weird structure in the centre of the room, that she could only describe as a very tall archway in the middle of a raised dais. Even from their considerable distance, Daphne could see the ancient markings covering almost every inch of the weathered stone.
They were inconsequential, however, in front of the tattered, thin and almost ethereal looking curtain draped across the opening of the archway. It was moving on its own, as if a breeze was passing through it despite the complete stillness of the air inside the chamber itself. The curtain itself was black, giving the illusion of a seemingly infinite stretch of darkness - a seemingly endless void hanging in front of the empty archway. If she were to explain the aura the curtain exuded with one word, that word would be odd. It gave her chills and a feeling that she felt she should know, but couldn't describe.
"It… it feels like death," Neville whispered, unconsciously walking towards the archway.
'Yes. That's what the feeling is,' Daphne thought in a daze, not even questioning her classmate's deduction, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
In a way, there was nothing more natural than death other than creation itself.
Suddenly, Susan burst forth and grabbed Neville's arm, pulling him back harshly. She belatedly noticed that her Hufflepuff classmate was shivering in what she imagined was fear.
"Don't you dare step closer. That thing is the Veil of Death."
X
Several miles above the Death Chamber, the Order of The Phoenix was in the Ministry atrium fighting a winning battle against some rookie Death Eaters.
"They're buying time!" Moody yelled in his gruff voice as he knocked one Death Eater into another with a well-placed banishing charm.
"I would hope so. It would be utterly pathetic if our country was shaking in fear against these toys," Madame Longbottom lightly commented as she methodically dispatched another Death Eater at the same time as McGonagall.
"This isn't the time to hope for more action, Augusta," the Transfiguration Mistress responded as she defended against a Killing Curse that came from a grinning man they knew, a man that caused Madam Longbottom's face to twist into a crooked snarl.
"Lestrange," the woman hissed the moment she saw Rabastan move towards them. Without a mere second of thought, she started launching increasingly dangerous curses towards one of the men that had taken her son from her. His grin quickly vanished as the ferocity of the elder witch caught him completely off guard.
In the meantime, Rodolphus engaged Minerva in a duel. She responded with rapid applications of conjuration and animation, planning to overwhelm the Death Eater with numbers but her plan didn't give her the edge as his unreasonably powerful exploding curses turned her golems to chunks of rock. It was an extremely balanced duel as she kept conjuring, he kept destroying and she kept using the debris to attack him only for him to blast them out of the way.
On the opposite side of the atrium, Sirius was fighting Dolohov while Andromeda was fighting her older sister.
"Oh come on Andy, don't tell me you've gotten soft!" Bellatrix giggled as she defended against the various curses sent her way.
Andromeda, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm and collected as she approached the fight with surgical precision, trying to find gaps in the impressively tight fighting style of the Death Eater.
"Come on, at least talk to me! I'm your sister!" the violet-eyed witch whined as she suddenly started attacking, causing Andromeda to fall on the defensive. "Ever since you married that mudblood filth you've gotten soft, Andy. I knew I should have killed him after I graduated."
Andy's calm facade broke as she snarled, sending a Gouging Curse towards her opponent. "You'll never be my sister, Bellatrix. Even amongst filth, you remain the most vile of the bunch."
"You speak of filth when you birthed a halfblood spawn?"
"I speak of the filth that worships a vile megalomaniac."
A bright green Killing Curse blazed past Andromeda's face.
"You dare insult my Lord, you filthy blood traitor?" The psychopath screamed as she started to actively try and kill her sister. The fight almost immediately turned into a dance as Bellatrix launched Killing Curses mixed with other lethal, yet more painful curses without pause, as Andromeda either danced around the jets of light or used debris to block them.
"Lacero!"
The voice of Sirius Black cut through Bellatrix's incessant chanting of the Killing Curse. His spell struck true as a deep slash cut through her dress, wounding her thigh in the process and causing her to stumble. Her crazed yet calculating eyes turned towards him.
"Look at that. Little cousin Siri wants to play!" Bellatrix said with a faux cheer as she stood back up, ignoring the pain her bleeding wound caused her. "Fine then. I'll play with both of you," she said as she launched a Torture Curse towards Sirius who deftly dodged.
"You are completely fucked in the head, Bella," Sirius responded as he launched spells against her. "I couldn't imagine Azkaban making you worse than before, but it did."
"Azkaban was nothing to me. It couldn't keep me away from my Lord."
"You even managed to find some poor, pathetic sod who somehow tolerates you," Sirius responded with a crooked grin as he gave her another cut on the same thigh, parallel to the previous one.
Multiple things happened at once. Bellatrix, in her incessant rage at the insult on her Lord's name, transfigured the floor under Sirius' leg, throwing him off balance. Avery, who got reprieve from fighting Nymphadora, sent a couple of spells towards Andromeda who was forced to defend. A victorious grin stretched on Bella's face as a manic gleam passed through her violet eyes.
"Ava-"
"Flumen Sanguinis."
The incantation of the Killing Curse was cut short, replaced by her shrill scream as the blood from her leg was forcefully extracted, a spray of scarlet covering the limb. Before she could lose too much blood, however, she cast a spell that carved the limb from her body and cauterised the wound, leaving the shrivelled and deathly white limb laying upon the ground.
Her screams didn't stop even as the fighting came to a halt the moment the culprit of her injury made himself known.
Narcissa Malfoy slowly walked towards Sirius' side as she casted several minor healing spells in quick succession. Neither he, nor Andromeda paid her any heed, however, busy as they were gawking at a dead man.
"Brother…?" Sirius whispered in complete shock as Regulus slowly walked towards the Blacks.
"Well then. Seems like I came right on time," Regulus spoke as he glanced at his brother, smirking slightly at his disbelieving look.
Bellatrix managed to turn her screams into muffled groans of pain and turned her hate filled eyes towards her four relatives.
"Traitors," she spat through her teeth, conjuring a prosthetic leg to walk upon in the distraction caused by Regulus' reappearance and her sister's betrayal, before the battle around them resumed once more.
"Well, I have been a traitor for a long time now, Bellatrix," Regulus replied as he observed her temporary prosthesis. The level of precision used to create it, as well as the protective enchantments she'd laid in mere seconds was honestly mind blowing. Not that the other Blacks seemed to care, focused more on healing Sirius and wondering how Regulus could be standing in front of them as he watched the oldest of the Black sisters.
"How are you alive, Reggie?" Sirius seethed from his side, ignoring the fights around him in favour of pestering his younger brother.
"Don't you think that we should discuss this later?" Narcissa interjected, drawing Sirius' ire.
"And you. Why are you here? What are you doing here?" Sirius asked but without any real malice. His answer was a killing curse that flew past his face, courtesy of Bellatrix.
"Cissy," the Death Eater seethed. "The Dark Lord will punish your treachery when we go back."
"I don't plan on going back, Bella. This is my escape from your madness," Narcissa responded as she raised her wand. Despite the fact that the Lestrange brothers and Dolohov had equalised the numbers perfectly - with other Death Eaters occupying their previous opponents in the case of the Lestranges -, they had the element of surprise in Regulus and the impairment he'd caused to Bellatrix.
"You're a fool, Narcissa Malfoy," Rabastan snarled as he copied the others in raising his wand.
"Narcissa Black. My name is Narcissa Artemis Black and as magic is my witness, I denounce all ties, marital or not, between myself and the Malfoy family. So mote it be."
Narcissa's wand flared with a bright white light and the battle started in earnest, with Regulus opening up with a flurry of curses towards all of their enemies in order to split them apart.
A maximised Exploding Curse by Rodolphus missed Andromeda, destroying the centaur depicted on the Fountain of Magical Brethren. His intended target twirled her wand in order to manipulate the water gathered in the bowl of the broken fountain and successfully bowled over Rabastan who was immediately struck with a Gouging Curse by Narcissa, blowing a hole straight through his shoulder. Rodolphus retaliated with a snarl and tried to blast Narcissa, who was subsequently saved by Sirius redirecting the incoming Blasting Curse towards Bellatrix, who deflected the curse blindly without caring where it ended up.
Unfortunately, it landed right next to Rabastan's body, further wounding him and tossing him aside like a ragdoll.
"What are you doing, Bella!" Rodolphus screamed as he tried to block a barrage of curses from Andromeda and Narcissa.
Bellatrix didn't respond, not even hearing him, fully immersed as she was in her own fight with Regulus. She didn't taunt and didn't laugh as her hand moved like a blur, blocking spells and attempting to return fire - and failing - with a steadily increasing tempo. She didn't care about the fights around her because she couldn't find a way to win her own.
Regulus' wand too moved without a single pause, as if he was tracing the wand movement of a singular spell even as it constantly spewed curse after curse towards his enemy. His feet were rooted to the ground as he didn't find the need to move around, using an overpowering stance that allowed him to utilise his spell chains to maximum potential.
The fighting style, however, wasn't the biggest issue Bellatrix faced at that time. She had faced fast, overpowering opponents before. However, none of them were using Black family spells almost exclusively. Much to her shock and anger, Regulus seemed to know the entirety of the Black Grimoire practically by heart. Everything from decay to muscle atrophy to blood clotting were on the table of curses she incessantly blocked and redirected; all of them obscure and difficult to counter, forcing her on the back foot.
Sirius, who was close to overpowering Dolohov, saw a window of opportunity to knock down one of their opponents for good. As Rodolphus was close to being knocked out by the combined assault of the Black sisters he failed to see his brother standing up after roughly patching up his wounds and moving towards the fight once more. Rabastan was completely disoriented, and thus sloppy as he moved, with his eyes locked onto Narcissa, without taking precautions against a sucker punch from the side.
Then, as Rabastan was in clear view of Sirius between Dolohov and Rodolphus, Sirius saw the purple light of Dolohov's favourite spell, the Entrail-Expelling Curse, rushing towards him.
With a sharp flick of his hand he redirected the beam of light with the tip of his wand towards the disoriented Death Eater and the spell struck true. A wet, choked cough was heard from the victim of the curse and Rodolphus turned his head just in time to see the innards of his brother bursting out of his stomach before he collapsed with no more life left to spare.
A scream of pure rage and anguish pierced the din of the fights around them and the aggrieved Death Eater whirled towards the four rebellious Blacks.
"Bombarda Dispersus Maxima!"
A positively massive bolt of red light shot out of his wand which then split into a myriad of smaller bolts that peppered the battlefield, causing multiple small explosions, introducing pure chaos and destruction into the atrium.
X
The smell of cinnamon, vanilla and something reminiscent of the smell of grass after rain enticed Harry and clouded his mind as he traversed the weird pink and red room.
He didn't get the chance to enjoy it, however, as the wand in his hand burned him for the umpteenth time since he'd snatched it from Lucius. As his reverie broke and the haze cleared, his eyes landed on a bound body. After a second of observation he knew that the ridiculously long platinum blonde mane of hair could only belong to Lucius.
Seeing him bound and unconscious near the wall made him pause in his tracks as he tried to understand why anyone would simply leave the Death Eater there to wait for divine intervention. Surely, the Order or the Aurors would have taken him. A pang of worry spread through him as he thought of the ridiculous notion of his friends following him and suddenly the thought didn't sound as ridiculous as before.
With a long sigh he decided to abandon the Malfoy patriarch as well in favour of searching for an exit. Almost immediately, he noticed seven doors lined up on the wall opposite of him. It wasn't the first time that happened; in a room full of flora he'd never heard of - he was positive he would be unable to imagine them in the first place - he had to choose one of twenty three doors to use. Every time he chose randomly.
Yet this time, he felt drawn to the door at the far left of the row. He felt his magic pulse within him and it sought release as it hummed with anticipation, an anticipation that grew with each step he took towards the door. In a pure, otherworldly trance that muddled each of his senses, he opened the door.
Only to find himself stepping inside an extremely tall, circular room, straight through the middle of the ceiling. The foreign wand grew hot in his hand yet again and drew him out of his clouded thoughts. As he descended he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling confident in the enchantments preventing his face-to-face meeting with the raised marble dais. It wouldn't be the first time he had found himself falling inside the Merlin forsaken department.
Sure enough, he felt gravity relinquish its hold on his body and he opened his eyes, landing on the black marble which was uncomfortably close to his face for someone not fully on the ground. As he touched his hands to the dais he felt gravity work properly once more and stood up straight, coming face to face with a curtain that looked like flowing, silver-tinted water. A sense of familiarity and comfort washed over him as he observed the weird veil hanging over the archway, unsupported.
A missile of golden blonde hair, accompanied by the scent of vanilla and cinnamon denied him the chance to approach the Veil. Steadying himself, he turned his head towards the human that assaulted him and came face to face with two bright, sapphire blue eyes. A small, warm smile appeared on his face as he saw the happiness and relief etched onto Daphne's beautiful face.
"You're safe," she whispered and hugged him tighter.
"Of course I'm safe," he replied as he felt the warmth of her familiar embrace and slowly relaxed in her arms. "Why wouldn't I-" His body turned rigid as the reality of the situation settled in. His eyes instantly snapped to the group gathered behind Daphne.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked with a clipped tone. Daphne's arms fell from the embrace she held him in and she folded them under her chest as she glared at him. Harry tried his hardest to not look at her.
"We saw that Umbridge planned to take you to the Death Eaters," Hermione responded, causing Harry to gawk at her.
"And you decided to come here on your own? Are you okay, Hermione? Do you have a fever or something? What happened to your infamous brain?" Harry asked incredulously, causing her to stutter. His gaze swivelled to the rest of them. "And the rest? I understand the Gryffindor nature of us rushing to the front lines, but since when are you two Gryffs?" he said in the same incredulous tone as he waved his finger between Susan and Daphne.
He was answered by a sniff of disdain from the redhead Hufflepuff. "You underestimate the loyalty of the Puffs. You were there when we needed you, I'll be there when you need me. It's that simple."
Harry released a long sigh as he finally turned his eyes to meet Daphne's glare. He managed to not flinch.
"And you, Daphne?" He asked defeatedly, knowing that she would also find something to shut him up, as well.
"I came because you were in danger," she simply replied as she took a step closer to him.
"I am still in danger. The Order came and Death Eaters will too! All of you should know that!" Harry stressed as Daphne took yet another step towards him, being almost on top of him. Harry felt a flush move up his neck and he fought it down as the thought of them being in danger with him made him queasy.
"Yes, you are," Daphne nodded sagely. "Which is why we're here."
Harry's eyes refused to move anywhere except the sapphire pools belonging to Daphne. That caused him to completely miss Hermione repressing the urge to laugh at his flustered face as she also motioned for the others to stay silent.
"Daphne, you're also in danger. All of you, you're in danger because you came to help me," Harry pleaded as Daphne moved closer and raised her head slightly in order to look him in the eyes.
"I trust you'll keep us safe," she responded in a husky tone that caused Harry's awareness to tunnel vision on her, forgetting the presence of others in the chamber. "You should also trust us to take care of ourselves. You taught us, after all."
"I don't want any of you to get hurt," he replied in a low voice.
"I know," she replied as she suddenly grabbed him by the front of his robes. "I don't want you getting hurt either. So we'll leave this place together."
"No, you just need to leave, I'll stay with the Or-"
His words were cut off as Daphne suddenly pulled his robes harder in order to lower his head and locked his lips with her own, causing Harry's mental faculties to shut down as his senses were assaulted with the taste of cinnamon and the scent of vanilla.
Warmth spread through his insides as he felt Daphne nibble his lips softly, but the kiss ended just as abruptly as it started.
"You will not fight without us. Without me," the Slytherin blonde said in a breathless whisper as her face didn't inch away from Harry's.
As his brain rebooted after Daphne's initiative, his eyes gained a resolute gleam to them.
"You promise you'll stay with me no matter what?" he asked loud enough for all to hear him.
"I don't plan on fighting the Death Eaters alone," Ron responded verbally while the others nodded in agreement to Harry's demand.
"Good. We can't fight them one on one. If we come across one of them, we'll fight as a unit. Strength in numbers," the Boy-Who-Lived continued as he stepped away from Daphne slightly.
"Promise me you won't leave my side," he whispered to her and she simply smiled and gave him another peck on the lips.
"I wasn't planning to," was the simple reply as they all moved towards a door upon the wall.
Suddenly, Harry asked Daphne a simple question.
"Why did you kiss me? Why now?"
She turned her head towards him and smiled softly. "With your unpredictability, I figured I can't afford any hesitation."
He hummed at the cryptic remark but didn't get the chance to respond as they felt the whole chamber rumble from the ceiling downwards, as if something had crashed into the floor above.
Without commenting they all rushed towards what they hoped was the exit.
The moment the door closed behind them, the Veil of Death seemed to flutter more intensely than normal.
The group of students also failed to recognise that the Veil had ceased its compulsion the moment Harry entered the Death Chamber.
X
The impact of Rodolphus' spell was so great that the fighters, on both sides alike, lost their balance and fights were interrupted across the atrium as they felt the tremors caused by the Lestrange Cluster-Bomb Curse.
Debris flew across the battlefield and chunks of black marble fell from the ceiling above, causing friend and foe to try their best to avoid a death caused by falling stone. Some of the more passionate and experienced fighters used the destructive chaos to attack their opponents, using the flying debris for attack and defence, as well as the smoke and dust to utilise stealth.
The one that caused the chaos in the first place kept launching curses with renewed vigour against the younger Black sisters.
Sirius had subdued Dolohov as the explosions destroyed the atrium and was now fighting against Jugson and Mulciber.
Bellatrix couldn't curse her husband more than she was cursing him at that moment. Her sloppy first aid - as well as her lack of any talent in Healing Magic - meant that she couldn't fight for long before her wound caused her issues. The limited timeframe she'd had available to fight Regulus was obliterated as debris hit her wounded stump, partly reopening it and making the prosthetic even more uncomfortable and cumbersome. With her chances at winning the fight now being slim-to-none, she ran, attempting to flee from her cousin, who gave chase after her.
A sinister beam of red light - which she recognised as the Cruciatus - forced her to make a sharp manoeuvre to the side and she inevitably stumbled with her prosthetic leg and fell, her wand escaping her grip and cluttering uselessly several paces ahead of her. A dry, humourless chuckle escaped her lips, yet her eyes sparked with delight.
"Well, Reggie. You really did a number on me, didn't-"
Her words were cut short as she saw multiple spells of various colours rush towards her. She closed her eyes, waiting for her inevitable end - with some curiosity as to which curse she would be affected by first.
No effects and no end came, however, and she slowly opened her eyes. Regulus stood rigid, rooted to his spot staring at something - someone - stood behind her.
"What have they done to you, Bellatrix?" a soft, sinister voice was heard above the sounds of the battlefield, causing several people to miss a step and wands to send spells wide.
Bellatrix's smile grew impossibly wide as her eyes sparkled with relief and adoration.
"You serve me well, Bellatrix. You have not disappointed me, not once," he continued in the same tone as a silver liquid flew from his wand. With a wave of his hand, the prosthetic leg disappeared and the silver liquid took its place, taking the shape of Bellatrix's missing leg. "Your lord always rewards the faithful."
As the spell finished its course, she felt her missing limb once more. After a couple movements to feel the new limb out and be certain she could fight with it, she stood up and found herself standing stable enough upon the marble floor.
Her smile turned predatory as she saw her cousin move two steps backwards.
The moment his loyal servant went on her knees to kiss his robes, the Dark Lord swept his cold, calculating gaze towards every member of the Order, a gaze full of malice towards them. Now the fight for their lives would truly begin.