Mentors

Mentors

Chapter 4: Fight or Flight

* * * * * * *

Harry arrived at the Ministry of Magic in spectacular fashion by sliding out of the fireplace feet-first onto the polished wooden floor of the Atrium. Around him stood his Slytherin classmates: Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle. Crabbe and Goyle were standing with a couple of men Harry didn’t know from sight, but suspected were the boys’ fathers. Professor Dumbledore was standing off to the side having a quiet conversation with Ludo Bagman when Lucius Malfoy appeared out of the fireplace, much more gracefully than Harry had.

Harry struggled to his feet in time enough to see Ron and Hermione being escorted to the lifts at the end of the hall by a Death Eater Harry recognized as Macnair. Hermione looked back plaintively at Harry as she and Ron turned the corner and disappeared from view.

Malfoy spoke quickly to a man Harry didn’t recognize. “Tell them to seal that last Floo, Avery, then come right back to take your post,” Lucius commanded. Avery immediately moved in the direction of the lifts.

Lucius then took Harry’s arm forcefully and, as he passed by his son, he threw Harry’s cloak to him, telling him to, “Wait here, Draco. I have someone who wishes to meet you.” The elder Malfoy escorted Harry down to the prison area on Level Nine, which was situated opposite the courtrooms. He threw Harry into the barred cage at the far end of the cellblock, chained the binders holding his wrists to the back wall, locked the cage, and slammed the exterior door shut, locking it securely, all without saying a word.

* * *

It was dark in the prison cellblock. The only sliver of light seeped in through a crack at the bottom of the heavy door that led down five steps into a short corridor. There were three empty cells on each side, ending in one large cell spanning the breadth of the space. This is where Harry Potter, the most famous wizard of his time, sat. Sets of manacles adorned the walls of the adjacent cells while others hung from the bars overhead. Harry’s hands were shackled in front of him, and attached to the wall behind him by a long, heavy chain.

Harry sat with his forearms on his knees, his head bowed. He thought about his predicament for some time.

How? How could he have done it? Harry wondered. It didn’t make any sense. Professor Dumbledore had wanted him to come to Hogwarts. He wanted Harry to become a wizard. He had helped him throughout his life, so how could he have turned him over just like that? If Dumbledore really was evil all along why hadn’t he done this sooner? Why not just give Harry over once Voldemort had returned?

It was as if Dumbledore was a completely different person, someone Harry didn’t recognize. He —

Wait. That must be it, Harry thought. It isn’t Dumbledore at all. It must be an imposter! Someone must have taken his Headmaster’s place like Barty Crouch, Jr. did with Mad-Eye Moody. But who was truly powerful enough to do that? Min possibly could have done it or maybe even Voldemort himself. But neither of them had had the opportunity to … No, it still didn’t make any sense.

And what about Ron and Hermione? Harry really didn’t want to think about that. He was still alive, so they must be as well, right? Yes, exactly, he concluded, trying his best to convince himself that it was true. If his captors wanted him dead, he already would be. There was nothing stopping them from killing him, so his friends must still be living as well. Yes, that has to be it.

But other than going after their families the way they had the other students, the Death Eaters had never pursued the two of them the way they had Harry. So if Ron and Hermione were just in the way they would have simply …

No! Stop thinking about that, Harry told himself. Just put it out of your mind.

The more he thought about his predicament, rolling it over and over in his mind, the more unanswered questions he came up with. The seconds passed by like minutes, and Harry tortured himself with his own thoughts the entire time. A rising hopelessness began to collect around him and it slowly filled the empty cellblock.

Harry cried desperately about his imprisonment. He screamed in fury about what they might be doing right now to Ron and Hermione. But most of all he brooded over why his Headmaster, the one man he knew he could trust in the world, Albus Dumbledore, had turned him over to Voldemort. How could he have done it? It was impossible for Harry to believe. Dumbledore had fought against Voldemort for so long. What had changed? Why did he do it? But Harry couldn’t come up with any answers. Alone and surrounded by his enemies, Harry cried once more.

* * *

Fred and George Weasley, along with Lee Jordan, suddenly appeared through the doorway of the Great Hall carrying their brooms in one hand and their wands in the other. All three were loaded for bear, carrying the best of Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bang fireworks. They struck a pose ready to take on the entire Hall, but immediately realized that there wasn’t anyone to fight.

“So, have we won?” said George excitedly. The grim faces on most of the students and faculty told him all he needed to know. Ginny tearfully filled them in on events.

“Well, next stop, the Ministry!” exclaimed Fred with a strong sense of bravado.

Professor McGonagall, on the verge of tears, croaked out, “I’m afraid not, Mr. Weasley,” and blew her nose into her handkerchief.

“But they’re still alive aren’t they?” began George.

“Even if they are, I’m afraid there is nothing we can do to help them. The Ministry has already been taken over. It would be too late to do anything useful by the time we arrived,” McGonagall explained. “I just can’t believe it has ended this way,” she commented to no one in particular.

“But we have to do something,” said Dean Thomas, exasperatedly. “We can’t just let them win.”

“But they already have,” said Min plainly. His eyes were darting back and forth in empty space, considering their limited options. “It’s over, son. I’m sorry, but your friends are lost; there is nothing we can do for them now. We need to leave, to go into hiding. Professors, get the students to pack their belongings. We’ll head toward Wales. I know a few trustworthy people there. We can contact the students’ parents from there and then they can decide —”

Neville was appalled. “What? Run and hide when we’re needed most? I never expected you to be a coward,” he said furiously.

“COWARD?” shouted Min, setting a number of students back on their heels in fright.

Min took a deep breath and his furious stare at Neville subsided. Calming himself, he paraphrased the Chinese warlord-philosopher Sun Tzu, “When you have the advantage, attack. When evenly matched, attack. When outnumbered or outmaneuvered, withdraw and live to fight another day. You would do well to understand such wisdom.”

More students started to object, but Min cut them off. “We must leave. We have to get them out of here,” he said, motioning toward the younger students gathered in the Hall. “Now! We don’t have much time.”

“We have to try …” begged Neville.

“Try? Try what?” inquired Min. “Voldemort and his followers are already at the Ministry. They won’t waste time, they will have started the process immediately. We can’t Apparate into the building anymore; the Ministry blocked that practice after the events two years ago. And all the Floo tunnels have been shut down. The building is sealed off and will be heavily guarded. And once Harry and Voldemort merge, he will become more powerful than he already is. Just what, exactly, should we try?”

“We could fly there —”

“Dragons do not fly well, they glide mostly. Look at how long it took for us to get back here.”

“— on our brooms,” Neville suggested, pleadingly.

“Neville, fighting a hopeless battle isn’t bravery, it’s suicide. Look at our ‘army’, they’re children. The Dark Lord has dozens of grown, experienced wizards who will fight for him. These children will be sent to their deaths for no purpose. I will not be a party to that sort of senseless massacre.”

Seeing the desperate expression on his apprentice’s face Min tried to explain further. “Look, Neville, I have fought in many wars. Wars are campaigns; they take time. They are never resolved in one quick skirmish. We will need to reserve our strength to fight other battles in the future, when the enemy is weaker. Attacking when your opponent is at his strongest is a foolhardy gesture. The enemy currently has an insurmountable advantage; there is nothing we can do to change that.”

“But … but the transformation process isn’t immediate, is it?” Neville offered, desperate for any excuse that might sway his Master. “Harry will resist him and you can destroy —”

“Harry will fight? Harry will resist? No, he won’t. Not anymore. Dumbledore, your Headmaster, the one person in this world Harry truly trusted, has BETRAYED him!” Min seethed. “There is nothing left for Harry to fight for. He won’t resist the inevitable.”

Neville looked over at Hagrid who was now sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, crying pitifully. Professor McGonagall moved over to try to comfort the enormous man. Whatever courage to fight Neville had left in him drained away at the sight of this giant of a man weeping like a small child.

“But we can’t just leave them,” Neville said in a small, defeated voice.

“I’m sorry, Neville. It’s over.” Min paused and sighed. “Unless someone knows of a way to get into the Ministry, there’s nothing we can do to help. Does anyone have any suggestions for getting into the Ministry building?” A depressed silence filled the room. “Anyone at all?” Most students and faculty just looked down at the floor.

“We can hold up here and defend the school!” Dean offered bravely. “Yeah,” a few students agreed.

“Hold it? For how long?” Min asked disdainfully. “After Voldemort and his followers install their new government and realize what’s happened here they will quickly move against you. This place is an important base of power to whoever is in charge; they will move to take back this fortress. How long will it take them to breach its defenses? A week? A month? And who’s going to come to save you? What organized resistance exists? I’d be surprised if it took more than a day to get inside these walls and once they do they will slaughter everyone who stays. They will not tolerate anyone standing against them.”

“But we could —”

“ENOUGH!” Min roared. “This isn’t a debating committee. Stay if you wish, but I am leaving and I would advise you all to do the same.”

“Lee, we’re going after Ron,” Fred defiantly announced.

“And Harry and Hermione, too, if we can help them,” said George.

“You don’t have to come,” Fred continued. “Stay here with Ginny. We’ll come back here afterwards.”

“You’re not leaving me here,” said Lee. “You’ll need help.”

“Boys, it’s best if you stay,” said Professor McGonagall, trying hopelessly, she knew, to save them from their own rash behavior. George just smiled a knowing ‘thanks’ at her.

“I’m going with you,” said Ginny.

“No you’re not. It’s too dangerous,” said Fred dismissively.

“He’s my brother too, dammit!” she shouted, positively daring Fred to say “no” to her again.

Fred sighed. He knew they wouldn’t be able to just leave her behind. She’d find a broom and follow no matter what they did. The foursome walked out of the Hall with a gritty determination.

“Good luck,” Min called to them. He knew any words he said, any rational explanations he offered, would not stop them. Ron was their brother. They had to go.

* * *

The bulky iron lock on the heavy entrance door clicked loudly and the door slowly swung open. Harry squinted as light flooded in and the torches inside the cellblock lit themselves magically. Two large guards entered followed by a short, sniffling little goblin who kept turning to bow to the person walking behind him. He called the man, “Your Eminence,” as he stepped into the hallway. Harry didn’t even have to look at the man to know who he was. The reaction of those around him and the burning of the scar on Harry’s forehead told him everything he needed to know. Still, the twisted snake-like head drew Harry’s attention. He couldn’t not look at what a monstrosity Voldemort had become.

Jarringly, Harry was immediately overcome with a bizarre urge to walk through the bars of his cell and embrace Voldemort. He quickly dismissed that horrific idea and momentarily wondered where such a grotesque thought had come from. One of the guards shut the heavy wooden door, snapping Harry back to the reality in front of him.

The words slithered out of the Dark Lord’s mouth, “He looks pale. He is still in good health, I trust?”

“Yes, My Lord,” his obedient servant answered. “There should be no complications with the process.”

“Excellent,” said Voldemort, turning toward Harry. “By now you realize that no one can protect you any more. We have taken control of the Ministry of Magic itself as well as imprisoned your fellow students at Hogwarts. Even your old Headmaster has now bowed to the inevitable. Of course,” he continued with a delicious smirk, “it became easier to convince him which side to obey once he understood we held his brother, Aberforth, captive. That is when Albus Dumbledore found the inevitable a bit more … acceptable.”

After enjoying the look on Harry’s face, Voldemort reached under his cloak and revealed a wand that looked very familiar. It was Harry’s. Voldemort sneered, his eyes alight with malice. He pointed the wand at Harry. “Now, let us see that we have the true Harry Potter and not some Metamorphmagus imposter.” Harry reflexively stood up, trying to find some place to hide, but the empty cell held no such protections for him. He braced for what was coming. Voldemort enchanted, “Crucio,” and Harry felt a strange tickle flow through his body, but only for a brief second. The wand then detonated violently into a ball of red sparks, the powerful blast sending everyone to the floor in a daze. Each of the red sparks then turned into a delicate flower petal and floated gently to the ground, covering them in multi-colored petals. Harry recognized the after-effects immediately: it was a Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes joke wand. Harry couldn’t help but smile, in spite of his surroundings.

Still cuffed and locked in the cell, he looked around for what to do. They were all knocked unconscious. He had a chance, but couldn’t see how he might exploit his good fortune until he spotted the outline of a long, thin object hidden just under Voldemort’s robe. It must be his wand. Harry wasn’t sure it would work, but tried it anyway. Even though he had no wand of his own, he reached out his shackled hands as far as the chain would allow and muttered, “Accio,” to the wand. It moved slightly, but only an inch or so. Yes! This can work! he thought excitedly. He concentrated even harder on his charm, “Accio,” and the wand’s grip poked out from under the robe. Again he tried, and this time the wand fell free from the cloak and clattered onto the floor. He focused on the wand once more, but this time it jumped a few feet sideways into the adjacent cell! Harry almost swore at the wand in fury, but he managed to stop himself before any ill-chosen words emerged; swearing at an inanimate object is rarely useful. Gathering himself again, he pulled at the light wooden object with all his will and it slid a few feet toward him. Almost there, but not quite. Tiring, he pulled again, but this time it barely jostled. Harry took a deep breath and, screwing together all his strength, he concentrated one last time. The wand obediently slid the remaining few feet, between the bars, and into his outstretched hand.

He tried the lock on his manacles, and on the third attempt, they sprung free. The cell door was easier; he got it open on the first try. He leaped over the piled bodies, out through the heavy the door, and tore up the stairs into the hallway. He dashed for the lifts and flew by two Death Eaters as he did. He closed one of the lifts, pushed Atrium and, as it began to move, a Stunning Spell flew at him, but hit the cage instead. His return spell found its mark, sending the woman reeling. His lift was out of sight before the other Death Eater could attack.

It was at that moment he heard a distant scream emanate from the direction of the cellblock. It was Voldemort. Harry’s scar burned sharply as a wave of blind fury swept through him. He was glad he wasn’t in the cellblock to actually witness it.

His legs were shaking as he anticipated reaching the next level, and he was a bit dizzy. He stepped out of the lift area and saw a clear path into the Atrium. Harry knew the fireplace Floos were inoperable, but he could see the front entrance lift at the far end of the Atrium. He ran through the golden gates and out into the expanse of the Atrium, but noticed much too late that four Death Eaters, including Avery and Lucius Malfoy, were standing by the Security desk chatting. He tried to turn, but before he could he was hit by two powerful blasts and was sent skidding across the smooth floor. The wand he was holding flew even further than he did, landing near the newly dedicated central fountain.

Harry, dazed, heard Lucius shout, “Accio!” The two men accompanying Malfoy then ran to the Stunned Harry and grasped him firmly by his arms. Malfoy ordered them to take Harry to the chamber as he hurried to the lifts to check on his master.

The two imposing Death Eaters accompanied Harry down in a lift and when the lift door opened they dragged him down the hall and through the plain black door on Level Nine and into the Department of Mysteries.

* * *

Near the far end of the circular room within the Department of Mysteries a heavy wooden table was standing up on its end. It faced the entrance door. At its base was a small platform to stand on. Harry was hoisted onto the platform and leaned back against the table. Manacles were attached to his ankles. And another set bound his wrists to the table at waist height.

Secure in his bindings, Harry silently fumed about his missed opportunity for escape. If he had only peeked around the corner before stupidly running into the middle of the Atrium, he might have had a chance. He ran through the scenario in his mind over and over again. What if? What if, indeed.

But his thoughts soon turned back to his old schoolmaster. He hadn’t been betrayed. He was thankful for that. Professor Dumbledore hadn’t joined the Dark Lord. He had done what he could to save his own brother. Harry couldn’t really blame Dumbledore for what he had done. Even though he never had a proper family, Harry knows he might have done the same if it were his own brother. Besides, it gave him a shot at Voldemort. He —

Harry gasped. And then it sank in. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. He had been given one chance, one golden opportunity to kill Voldemort and he had failed to do it. He didn’t even try. When Voldemort lie there dazed, defenseless, Harry could have done it. He could have killed him. And although he likely would not have gotten out of the building alive, the whole struggle would have been over. What remained of Voldemort’s supporters would have run for their lives. Without the power of the Dark Lord their entire movement would have shattered as it had before. And this time it would have been forever. But Harry missed his chance.

He hung his head. Harry wasn’t just furious with himself, he was actually embarrassed. Being the one person who can supposedly vanquish the Dark Lord forever doesn’t mean much if you don’t even try. He could almost hear Hermione’s clear, concise summary now: “What an idiot.” He sighed deeply. The abject desolation he felt in his heart as he leaned there against the table seeped through his whole body. He knew the struggle was over.

* * *

“Hello, Harry,” said a familiar voice. It was Ludo Bagman. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said with a chuckle. “It took some real doing, I must say. All in all it was a truly bizarre series of events that brought you here, but destiny has rewarded those with the patience to allow fate to play itself out.”

There was a pause while Ludo looked him over, pleased with the capture of his elusive prey.

Harry was still disconsolate and didn’t feel much like talking, particularly since he knew that Bagman came over just to gloat. But, knowing Bagman for the greedy prat that he is, Harry couldn’t help himself. “How much did they pay you, Bagman?”

“Pay me? Oh, Harry, I won’t be getting any monetary rewards for my deeds,” Ludo said with a gleam in his eye. “At least not directly. No, what I will receive will be much more valuable than any bag of gold.”

He walked around Harry a bit. “Still, it’s quite astonishing how you escaped my Master in the graveyard after the Triwizard Tournament. The setup was so deliciously perfect. There were a few close calls, mind you, but things still worked themselves out in the end.”

Harry thought for a moment; he was briefly brought out of his grief by the unexpected conversation with Bagman. “But it was Barty Crouch, Jr. who had taken over Moody. He —”

“Yes, he did much to ensnare you, Harry,” said Bagman with a clever grin, “but you still escaped in the end, didn’t you? That fool Crouch, Jr. watched me and his father set up Portkeys at the Quidditch World Cup and so thought he could easily do it himself. What he forgot was that Portkeys are inherently two-way devices, and the return destination must be removed. It was almost a complete disaster. If you and Mr. Diggory had thought to immediately grab the Portkey once you found yourselves in that graveyard, the entire plan would have failed. Thankfully neither of you had the presence of mind to consider that option. But after that, there could be no more mistakes; this time Master needed someone more reliable to help deliver you to him, as well as someone to help him get inside the Ministry. He needed someone like — me. The entire adventure at the Triwizard Tournament wasn’t all for nothing, however. Even though you survived, Master did succeed in returning to a corporeal form, and I also rejoined him during the Tournament.”

Harry was confused; he couldn’t think of when Bagman might have contacted Voldemort; Ludo wasn’t in the graveyard that night, after all. And Bagman had spent most of his time either giving hints to Harry or running from the goblins. “During the tournament? But how did you know that Voldemort —”

“That my Master was truly still alive?” asked Bagman, smiling once more. “That is where fate stepped in once again. After Crouch, Sr. began owling his instructions into the office, I got curious and visited him at his home. What a wonderful shock it was to find my Master there. He was very wary of me at first, of course, but I had never denounced him. The unfortunate Ms. Jorkins had told all she knew about the fate of the Death Eaters to Master, and I was certainly no traitor like Karkaroff. He accepted me back into his fold and I have repaid him by delivering you to his doorstep once again.”

Ludo turned to walk away, but couldn’t help himself with one last comment. “By the way, Barty Crouch, Jr. was innocent, you know. He was a Death Eater, certainly, but he didn’t have anything to do with the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom; that was entirely the Lestranges’ doing. His own father threw him in Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit. And former Minister Fudge ensured that Barty wouldn’t be able to tell anyone anything more about my Lord’s resurrection when he gave him to that dementor. I didn’t even have to ask him to do it. He was eager to dispose of a Death Eater who had escaped Azkaban. Seemed to think it would improve his standing in the public eye.”

Ludo smiled broadly. “Fate truly is on our side. Good day to you.” And he sauntered away.

* * *

Harry began looking gloomily around at his surroundings. This round central room was the one that led to the other rooms within the Department of Mysteries. He noticed that many of the doors, normally closed, were now open. A heavy wooden door, apparently from another part of the building, was laying in the opening of one of the doorways, preventing the room from its normal turning movement which confused any occupant as to which door led where.

An empty marble basin that resembled a smooth birdbath stood on a pedestal twelve feet in front of him. Twelve feet beyond the bowl was another upright, inclined table identical to the one Harry was shackled to, but this one stood empty. A large cauldron sat bubbling off to the side. Its ingredients unknown, it gurgled a green glowing substance. The colorful swirls intricately reflected the interior of the vessel.

Most of the people in the room were just standing around, waiting for something to happen. Harry saw Wormtail — Peter Pettigrew — who was busy preparing some kneeling cushions on the floor so that they flanked the two upright tables in nice, neat rows. Harry had wondered what had happened to Peter, who was one of his father’s best friends at school. And he was also the only one of the four Marauders who survived, Harry thought bitterly. The last time he saw him, Wormtail was standing in the graveyard near his newly resurrected Master.

“So, Harry,” said Peter, as he laid down the last of the comfortable pillows, “do you know what is about to happen to you?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll be happy to inform me,” said Harry, miserably.

“Oh, don’t be so resentful, Harry. What is about to happen is the fulfillment of a dream! A new dawn awaits. The British Wizarding community will awake to a very different reality come the morning. Once Lucius Malfoy takes his place as the new Minister of Magic and the announcement of our new government has been made, many prominent families who previously had remained silent will voice their support for our movement. Some people may resist us initially, but they will be dealt with quickly, and the rest will fall in line with little effort once they understand the inevitability of it all. And you — you will join My Lord as the power behind the throne to usher in a new age for witches and wizards across the entire country, and eventually throughout much of the Wizarding world!”

“Join Voldemort?” said Harry sharply, which caused a reflex in Peter. “You’re daft. I’ll die before I —”

“Oh, I’m afraid not, Harry. You see, you won’t have much choice in the matter. This now empty basin will soon be filled with an unusual liquid which will allow My Lord to transfer his essence into your young body. The two of you will become one. The first transfiguration of its kind!”

Harry’s mouth hung open. He didn’t think they had waited all this time just to kill him, but he had no idea he would become a “host” for Lord Voldemort.

“But this isn’t just some simple ‘possession’,” Wormtail continued, “oh, no. It is the total domination of another being’s consciousness. By transferring the essence and lifetime of knowledge from one being to the next, a new form of immortality will emerge! You should feel honored.”

But Harry wasn’t honored. He was horrified. His heart sank as he began to understand the implications. Cautiously Harry asked, “I won’t die, will I?”

Peter happily filled Harry in on what he considered to be the best part. “Oh no, your consciousness will live on. It will be suppressed, but you will still get to see and feel everything your body does. Even though you will have no control over what happens, you will be unimaginably powerful, Harry. No one will be able to stand against you. I, of course, begged My Lord to be his first subject, but he wouldn’t have me.” Harry could hear the disappointment in his voice. “I suppose I’m just too … unreliable.”

Wormtail went over to stir the cauldron again. A rainbow of colors eddied behind the twisted branch used to mix the liquid, but it always returned to a blend of swirled green hues.

Harry’s desperation rose once more as he looked around the room. There were Death Eaters standing around in groups. He caught bits and pieces of muffled conversations, many talking about the “good old days” and making their lists of people they would visit revenge upon. For a brief moment Harry wished he were dead, simply so he wouldn’t have to experience what was coming. A terrible cold fear settled into his stomach as if a tall glass of ice water had been poured down his throat.

Harry glanced over to his right and saw a familiar face. Draco Malfoy was sitting on the floor leaning against the wall. Harry didn’t remember seeing him come into the room; perhaps Wormtail had distracted him.

Draco’s arms were resting on his knees. He was staring at the floor in front of him; he still seemed to be in a daze. Harry knew what Draco had seen in the entrance hall at Hogwarts. He had listened to it, which was horrible enough, but Draco had actually witnessed it. Harry was surprised at himself; even though he knew that Professor Snape had died a truly terrible death, he wasn’t as affected by it as Draco seemed to be. Harry felt a bit guilty at his own coolness toward Snape’s fate, but he assumed that it came from their history together. Dumbledore would not approve, Harry thought.

Just then the main black door opened. Escorted by two large guards each, in walked Ron and Hermione, both still in shackles. Harry’s mouth fell open and his heart leapt. They were still alive! He couldn’t believe it.

Heads down, they were moved near two more up-turned tables like the one Harry was attached to. Following behind were an old man and woman. It hit Harry immediately. Not only was he going to become a host for one of the most evil wizards who has ever existed, but his friends were going to suffer the exact same fate! Harry clenched his teeth. A boiling fury raced through his veins at the thought.

As the guards unshackled them to attach their hands to the tables, Ron ripped his arm out of one of his captor’s hands and he hit the other square in the face, almost pulling free. But the guard held on and the other punched him in the stomach, sending him to his knees. Hermione screamed, but her guards held her fast. The guard whom Ron had attacked then punched him in the back of the head, smashing his face hard against the stone floor. They didn’t use magic to subdue their prisoner, just physical brutality. The old man behind shouted for them to stop. “Don’t hurt him you idiots!” Apparently he was afraid they might injure his new body.

Ron still struggled, bloody forehead and all, as they brought him to his feet. He kicked aggressively at them until a witch stepped forward, brandishing her wand. “Crucio,” she uttered. Ron screamed in agony and his body convulsed, then went limp as she lifted her curse. They attached him to his table and stepped back to admire their work. The man whom Ron had slugged spat on him and then walked away.

Hermione turned to Ron and spoke to him. He nodded and then they began taking in their surroundings. Both saw Harry at the same time. Ron tried to shout, but doubled over instead. Harry heard Hermione’s voice. He smiled back, happy to see them, despite their predicament. At least they were still alive. He couldn’t believe it; he was so sure they had already been killed. He couldn’t be happier to have been so wrong. His joyful moment was short-lived, however as they came to realize their predicament. And Peter Pettigrew was all too happy to march over to fully explain what was about to take place.

The disgusted looks on Ron’s and Hermione’s faces told Harry they now understood their fate. Peter strolled back over to Harry with a pleased smile on his face, apparently to relay a message from his bound friends.

But Harry had had an idea.

As Wormtail approached and began to speak, Harry cut him off with four simple, but powerful words. “You owe me, Peter.” Pettigrew stopped and took in a short breath. “You owe me. I saved you, Peter. You owe me.” Wormtail was glancing around nervously, seeing if anyone might be listening. “You know you do, Peter,” Harry continued. “I could have let Sirius kill you that night in the Shrieking Shack, but I spared you. I stepped in and spared your life. You killed my parents, and I still saved your worthless hide. You owe me, wizard. It’s a pact, an unwritten contract. No, stop shaking your head. You know it’s true. You can’t deny it. You owe me, Peter Pettigrew, and I’ve come to collect,” Harry said, resolutely.

Wormtail started to quibble, “No, I can’t —” But Harry cut him off.

“It’s not me, Peter; I know you can’t help me. It’s them, Peter; Ron and Hermione. Let them go. Help them escape. Just a little magic, a small distraction.”

“I … It’s too … I …” Peter muttered, nearly in tears.

Harry whispered to him what he wanted. “Unbind my right hand, Peter, and ‘Accio’ a wand for me. I’ll attack Bellatrix. I’m the distraction, Peter. Nobody will notice you. Everyone will come to secure me again. Then you can unshackle them and open the door.” Wormtail’s face contorted. He clearly didn’t want to have to make this decision.

“That’s all I want, Peter, nothing heroic, nothing extraordinary. They’ll all think I did it. No one will be paying any attention to you. It’s easy. You know how to unlock us. Just give them a chance, Peter. That’s all it is: a chance. If they don’t make it, it’s not your fault. You’ll be free of your debt. You owe me, Peter Pettigrew. You owe me your life. This is my payment. Do it. Do it now.”

Pettigrew, his face full of fright, stepped back and put his hand into his cloak, reaching for his wand. He nearly drew it out when …

Boom!

The black entrance door opened suddenly. Lucius Malfoy was escorting a small, thin man into the room. It was Lord Voldemort. He had finally arrived. Harry realized it was now too late for his plan. Lucius and Voldemort wouldn’t be fooled by Harry’s distraction and, in any event, Wormtail had moved away toward his Lord. Harry dropped his head in defeat. A handful of tears dripped out of his eyes and onto his glasses. It was over; he could no longer help his friends.

* * *

Min, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick stood in the Great Hall discussing their next plans. Professors Sinistra and Vector, as well as Madam Pince and Mr. Filch were rushing the students about, collecting their belongings as quickly as possible. Dobby had gone back down to the kitchens to inform the rest of the house-elves what was happening.

Suddenly, out of the fireplace, Percy Weasley, completely covered in soot, tumbled painfully onto the floor with his wand drawn. He looked surprised that he had encountered anyone upon his exit. But he was relieved to see it was his old Professors. He immediately ran up to Professor McGonagall.

“Professor, are you all right?” asked Percy.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she answered, “but the school has been attacked and Harry, your brother Ron, Hermione, and a few Slytherins were taken to the Ministry along with Professor Dumbledore.”

“Yes, I know that Ron and the rest are there. But Dumbledore? They captured him as well?” asked Percy.

“Well, not exactly captured …” McGonagall tried to explain.

“We have to help them,” Percy interrupted. “They’re being held down in the Department of Mysteries where they’re going to somehow be merged with other wizards. Death Eaters have completely taken over the Ministry. With so much of the Ministry spread so thin trying to deal with all the attacks, it’s obvious now that we made it much too easy for them. I, along with most of the remaining staff, was locked up, but Draco Malfoy came and let me out. I got to the Floo Control room and opened up this one Floo. The rest of the system has been shut down; they don’t want anyone getting in there.”

“Draco Malfoy?” asked Neville, disbelievingly.

“Yes, it surprised me as well. But something clearly shook him up. When I came here I was hoping to get in touch with you. I thought that Hogwarts had been taken over, but apparently not.”

“Well, we had a bit of help,” said McGonagall, motioning toward Min.

“Can you help us? Please?” begged Percy. “We don’t have much time before Ron and them are … are … transformed.”

“Well?” McGonagall asked to Min.

Dozens of expectant faces that had gathered in the Hall with their trunks packed waiting to leave now stared at the ancient wizard. They all waited, wondering if he would help them attempt the impossible. Neville was among them. Now that there was a small window of opportunity, Min’s apprentice would not leave his friends to their fate, in spite of the dangers he would face. A small army of willing, though highly inexperienced, witches and wizards all wanted to go on a great adventure. They knew not the true horrors of warfare, even after their experiences of this evening. But they now had a chance to fight a real battle inside the enemy’s own stronghold.

Min took a deep breath and glared at the fireplace with an excited gleam in his dark eyes. A broad smile grew across his face as he considered all the new possibilities.

“It’s time to kick ass and chew bubble gum, and I’m all outta gum!” he announced to the room.

The entire Hall roared a resounding, “YEAH!” but only Dean Thomas, with a knowing smile, seemed to catch the reference.

Min felt a tugging on his sleeve. He looked over to see Alice Longbottom. She was offering him a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum. “Thanks,” he said as he popped it into his mouth.

Just then Hagrid entered the room, short of breath, exclaiming, “That’s the fastest I’ve packed in ages. Fang here is comin’ with us. I set the rest of the animals free. Hardest thing I ever had ter do. Are you — Oh, ’ello, Percy. Erm, where’d you come from?”

McGonagall looked at Hagrid and informed him, “We’re not leaving quite yet, Rubeus. Gather the rest of the students. Tell them to leave their trunks.”

“But —”

“Tell them to bring just their wands. We’re going to the Ministry!”

At that Hagrid marched out of the Hall to round up the remaining students.

“Even the Slytherins?” Ernie Macmillan asked contemptuously.

“Stuff it, Macmillan!” yelled a Slytherin sixth year. “Not everyone in Slytherin is a damned Death Eater.” Hufflepuffs and Slytherins leered at each other viciously.

“That’s enough out of all of you!” exclaimed Professor McGonagall. “We’re all on the same side now, so just deal with it and be quiet.”

Min and the teachers began devising a plan. “Where will this Floo come out, Percy?”

“In the Atrium, on the Eighth floor. There were some Death Eaters there, but Draco walked over to distract them. I think I slipped by without them noticing.”

The newly returned Dobby looked impressed at Percy’s statement. It seemed he didn’t have a very high opinion of humans moving about unnoticed the way house-elves could.

“Where are the Floo controls?” asked Flitwick. “It would be good to keep this fireplace open and prevent any Death Eaters from appearing behind us.”

“They’re on the Sixth level,” said Percy.

“Actually it would be best to open all the Floo tunnels and try to gather more friendly wizards to the Ministry,” said Min. “Can you do that, Professor?” Flitwick nodded in agreement. “And we could use the Floos to shuttle wounded, as well as any prisoners we take, back through. The house-elves can guard them.” At that Dobby perked up and gave a broad smile.

Min then asked to the gathering crowd, “Does anyone have any fireworks?” Ernie Macmillan and a couple of other Hufflepuffs said that they did. “Good, go and get them. We’ll need a distraction.”

As the remainder of the students gathered in the Great Hall, Min climbed onto the nearest table to give a short speech. “I know that all of you are primed to do this but I can assure you it won’t be fun. I’ve done this a few times before and this isn’t some game. You’re going to see a lot more death this evening, even more than you’ve experienced already. This isn’t some grand adventure, it’s killing pure and simple. You’re going to lose some more of your friends this evening and some of you won’t be coming back. Have no illusions about that. I would never normally ask this of you, especially since many of you are so young; children should never have to experience warfare. Unfortunately there is little choice in the matter. We need each and every one of you. Understand what is about to happen and prepare yourself for it.”

Madam Pince who, along with Hagrid, was shuffling the last of the wayward students into the Great Hall, walked over and whispered a worried thought to Professor McGonagall and Min. “Is it truly wise to take all of them with us, Minerva, especially the youngest ones?”

“We’ll need their numbers,” Min stated. “Dozens of Stunning Spells flying through the air will help keep the Death Eaters from becoming too aggressive. I’m hoping our initial momentum will carry us all the way down to the entrance to the Department. We’ll mainly be the ones battling anyway; so long as the students remain in groups, they should be relatively safe.”

“But if Professor Dumbledore has indeed joined …” Professor McGonagall began uncertainly. “Well, I’m not exactly sure how we’re going to deal with that.”

“We’ll see,” said Min plainly, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll see.”

Ernie and the two other Hufflepuffs returned to the Hall with armfuls of explosives.

“Are you ready?” Min asked the Hall.

“Yeah!” some of the students shouted back.

“I said — ARE — YOU — READY?” he roared.

“YEAH!” came the resounding response from the entire Hall.

Min took a pinch of Floo powder and disappeared into the fireplace’s green flames.

* * *

Inside the Department of Mysteries the murmuring throughout the circular room ceased immediately. A silent tension swept over everyone as they watched the small cloaked figure begin to move toward the stone basin. Voldemort walked over to the upright table that securely chained Harry Potter and glared menacingly up at him. The Dark Lord revealed a wand from beneath his arm cuff. Harry recognized it immediately as the one he had recently used to escape. It was highly unlikely this wand was yet another Weasleys’ joke wand reproduction.

Anticipating what was coming, Harry took in a terrified breath as Voldemort cursed him. “Crucio.” Harry’s body bent double and began violently thrashing back and forth, trying to rip his bound wrists and ankles from their metal restraints. His mind was charged with such an intense pain that he almost couldn’t hear the piercing scream coming from his own mouth. It ended as abruptly as it had started. Harry was panting heavily and his body quavered. It took him a full minute before he fully regained his sight; his vision had whited-out from the pain.

“It seems he is not a Metamorphmagus after all,” said Voldemort in a very satisfied tone. “Well done, Lucius. Now, please take care of our other task.”

“Gladly, My Lord,” said Lucius, who then left the room.

Harry, still breathing hard, saw Ludo Bagman step forward, apparently to complain that his contribution had gone unnoticed, but he wisely stopped before saying anything. Voldemort did eventually acknowledge him, however, “… And well done, Ludo,” doing his best to contort his snake-like face into a near-smile.

Peter Pettigrew approached Voldemort nervously and bowed. “The elixir is ready, My Lord.”

“Very good. Let us proceed.”

Voldemort turned and walked over to the empty upright table across from the stone basin. As he did this, Harry suddenly felt an enormous pang of loss. He knew something terrible had just happened, but didn’t know what it was. It didn’t seem related to what was happening in the room, however.

Harry then watched with dread as dozens of Death Eaters moved to take their positions flanking the tables. Lucius came back into the room and joined them. Each kneeled on a cushion as Voldemort was helped up onto the opposite table. His wrists and ankles were shackled as Harry’s had been. They now stood directly across from each other.

Wormtail picked up a large ladle and swirled the green reflective liquid one more time before scooping a ladleful out and pouring it into the smooth stone basin. The liquid filled approximately a third of the basin, and Harry could see the Dark Lord’s reflection in the elixir. As it sloshed back and forth in the bowl, Voldemort’s face came and went, and every time that his hideous serpent-like features shone in the liquid, Harry’s eyes were forcibly focused on the monstrous image. As it sloshed oppositely, he was briefly released from its irresistible grip, but it came back again and again. His green eyes were drawn so powerfully to the Dark Lord’s glowing red eye slits that it wrenched his head violently back toward the basin each time. After a bit more movement the swirling elixir settled to a still pool and Harry could see only the reflection of Voldemort’s skinny neck.

Harry quickly realized that two or three more scoops of the liquid would set him permanently within the Dark Lord’s gaze. He didn’t want to know what would happen after that, and so he shut his eyes as hard as he could. If he didn’t look at it, he reasoned, then maybe the magical reflective liquid wouldn’t work.

But the lack of sounds of Wormtail emptying more elixir into the basin, and a good deal of nervous muttering emanating from where Voldemort was standing, got the better of Harry’s curiosity. He slowly peeked one eyelid open. Lucius and a couple of other Death Eaters were standing near Voldemort having an unusually heated conversation. Harry couldn’t make out any words until Voldemort himself spoke clearly, no longer caring who heard him.

“Someone is in the building. In the Atrium. I can sense the intense fear in my followers who guard the entrances. Do not contradict me, Malfoy.”

“My — my apologies, My Lord,” Lucius stuttered. “But we have sealed off the Floo network, and the entrance also no longer accepts visitors. We have taken every precaution to —”

“I can sense the fear … the terror. They are now fighting. I cannot see who is there with them. I — Avery. … Avery is DEAD, Lucius.”

Harry watched as the look of fear fixed itself firmly on Lucius Malfoy’s face; he knows what happens to those who disappoint their Master.

Voldemort continued his strange commentary on the unseen events unfolding in the Atrium above. “The other two now hide from whatever faces them. One is … No, now only one remains. He is cowering behind the statue in the middle of the hall. His feeble attempts at magic have no effect on his opponent. I still cannot sense his foe. He hides his emotions so well, just like …

“MALFOY!” Voldemort shouted, inflicting a sharp jolt of fear into everyone in the room. “You assured me that that — that creature from the swamp had left with the Longbottom child.”

Lucius, now having difficulty swallowing, explained nervously, “Yes, yes, My Lord, he most certainly has. Longbottom — he took his exams early. They — they left a week ago.”

“Then who is in the Atrium, Lucius?” he hissed. “Who has now killed three of my servants? Why can I not sense this intruder? Why — Why are there now over a dozen people in the Atrium, Lucius? Over a dozen students from … from Hogwarts! You were supposed to deal with them, Lucius! They were supposed to be locked in their school and held until we had finished here!”

Lucius Malfoy, now on his knees at the foot of the inclined table where his Master was chained, was crying. “Master … I … please … I don’t understand how —”

“You have disappointed me, Lucius,” Voldemort whispered, calming himself fully from his outburst. “You will hold off the students and that — that thing until we have finished here. Once the transfer has taken hold, then I will deal with him, as it is readily apparent you cannot even manage the simplest of tasks. I will deal with your incompetence later.”

“I … yes, yes, as you wish, Master,” said Lucius as he stepped back, wiping his swollen eyes on his sleeve. He gathered a number of Death Eaters and headed toward the closed plain black door marking the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.

Once Lucius and his team left the circular room, Wormtail immediately went back to work. He picked up the over-sized spoon and scooped out another ladleful of liquid. Harry quickly shut his eyes and bowed his head determinedly. He heard more sloshing sounds as Wormtail filled the stone basin, and then a brief silence followed immediately by a loud, sharp —

BANG!

Harry jumped, but succeeded in holding his eyes closed. Something out through the door had exploded. He next heard Wormtail speaking an incantation followed by what sounded like a tap of wood on the edge of the basin. Ludo Bagman then began to mutter a spell when Wormtail cut him off with a screeching “NO! Remove his glasses first. There can be no other reflections!” A hand reached up and roughly tore his glasses from his face, but Harry still held his eyes firmly shut.

* * *

Outside the Department of Mysteries, Min followed the loud explosion down the lift shaft, landed on his feet, rolled forward, and quickly fired Stunning Charms at the Death Eaters guarding the lift area. His disoriented prey were easily dispatched. Another Death Eater turned the corner to attack Min, but was hit almost instantly by half a dozen Stunning Spells coming from the teachers and students stepping off the other lifts.

Luna Lovegood was deeply disappointed that she had forgotten to bring her ‘Rescue Mission’ badge.

Lucius and two more Death Eaters near the end of the corridor retreated into the safety of the hallway that held the courtrooms. They intermittently stepped out and fired Stunning Spells to keep the invaders pinned down.

The lift area was quickly filling with students. Professor McGonagall and Hagrid reached Min at the opening to the hallway. McGonagall stuck her arm around the corner and just missed Lucius’ head as he ducked back behind the wall. “Any ideas?” she asked. Min smiled.

“Neville!” Min called across the opening, as more spells flew down the corridor past them, impacting the wall beyond. “Neville! Ball your fist around your wand. Just do it. Hold your wand in your palm and close your fingers around it. Good. Now punch the air with your fist.” Seeing the puzzled look on Neville’s face, he repeated, “Punch the air with your fist. Harder! Harder, as if you’re trying to knock someone out. There, that’s pretty good. Now poke around the corner and as you punch the air again, enchant, ‘Fistus Projectum.’ Got it? ‘Fistus Projectum.’ Do it with strength and conviction!”

Neville took a breath and sharply turned the corner, spotting Macnair as he let go with another Stunning Spell. Neville shouted, “Fistus Projectum!” and swung his arm as hard as he dared, trying not to hit the adjacent wall. But his hand never came close to the wall; instead it collided mid-air with something much softer. He was shocked that he had hit some unseen barrier there, but then looked up to watch Macnair fall flat on his back, apparently unconscious, his nose bleeding profusely. Neville had leveled him from sixty feet away. His broad smile and the fact that he was now shaking his aching hand informed everyone that he’d been successful.

“Excellent!” said Min, grinning enthusiastically.

“But if you knew how to do that, why didn’t you do it?” asked Neville.

“Because I wanted to see if you could. It takes a good deal of both physical and magical power for it to work properly.” Another Stunner flew down the corridor. “Projection spells can be stopped with simple blocking charms if you don’t put enough force behind them. I’m glad to see you could do it.”

Seeing the success Neville had had, Hagrid balled his fist around the pink umbrella containing the parts of his broken wand and stepped around the corner. Spotting another Death Eater, he punched his hand through the air and forcefully uttered, “Fistus Projectum!”

Percy, standing across the passageway, violently threw his head sideways and fell flat onto the hard stone floor. Hagrid had completely missed his target.

“Oooh! Blimey! I’m so sorry, Percy!” exclaimed Hagrid as he rushed over to pick the poor boy up.

“You’ve got the physical strength Hagrid, but I really wouldn’t try that with a broken wand,” Min advised. “Or a West Country accent, for that matter,” he muttered under his breath.

Hagrid looked mortified as he lifted the unconscious Percy off the floor. A good deal of blood pooled on the floor and a couple of teeth fell out of his mouth. Also, his jaw now seemed to be set at an odd angle.

* * *

Inside the Department of Mysteries, Ludo spoke an incantation, and this time Harry’s eyes sprang open. He couldn’t help it. He was still looking down but, try as he might, he could no longer shut his eyelids, not even to blink. Ludo spoke once more and Harry’s head shot up. He tried to quickly wrench his head to one side to avoid looking into the basin, but his eyes caught the reflection in the smooth pool of liquid, and he was instantly transfixed to the inverted image shining back at him. Those eyes, those terrible glowing red eyes, they were staring back at him, unblinking, unmoving. Harry was caught and he knew it.

Harry then heard Hermione’s voice from across the room, but he couldn’t turn to look. He didn’t need to, however. He noticed that the light in the room dimmed a bit. She was trying to put out the torches, trying to break the visual bond that held him and Lord Voldemort in a hard, fixed stare. But without her wand, her magic was much too unfocused to do any good.

There was some scuffling near the entrance door, and Harry heard it open, letting in a good deal of noise from outside, then listened as it shut tight once more. Lucius shouted, “Seal the door!” and a number of Death Eaters ran toward the entrance door to magically hold it closed. A handful of goblins on the other side of the room plastered themselves against the wall, trying to get as far away from the door as possible.

All of the external distractions quickly faded away as Harry watched Voldemort begin to writhe, his eyes still fixed on the basin. Harry then heard him gasp and watched as a strange bluish smoky image appeared in front of the Dark Lord’s body. It hovered for a moment. Its shape seemed indistinct until it began to move toward Harry. It seemed to be a face, a human face, loosely attached to a spindly body. It didn’t have the snake head, it didn’t have slits for eyes, instead it resembled a man’s face. It was … it was Tom Riddle’s face! An older Tom Riddle to be sure, older than the sixteen-year-old face that Harry encountered down in the Chamber of Secrets, but it definitely was a translucent image of Tom Marvolo Riddle floating toward him.

If Harry could have torn his eyes away from the horror before him, he would have seen the door to the room undulate. Someone was trying to force it magically, but Voldemort’s followers held the door firm. Unfortunately, Harry could not look at anything except what was happening immediately before him.

The eyes of the ghostly image seemed to follow a direct path from the snake-like body toward the basin. As it reached the reflective pool and passed through the physical basin, the face instantaneously reversed, now backing itself toward Harry. Terrified, he opened his mouth to scream as the floating image approached, but no sound came out.

Once it had reached him, the image imposed itself over Harry’s form. Harry felt faint, his eyes became unfocused, and his head dropped. Along with Ron’s and Hermione’s muted screams from across the room, the last thing Harry heard was a distinct sizzling sound emanating from the basin just as he lost consciousness.

* * *

BOOM!

Harry woke with a start. He was groggy and his eyelids felt very heavy. He wasn’t sure where he was or why he was there. The scene was strangely ethereal, almost serene. There was a good deal of movement around him and a few people were shouting, but the sound seemed to be distant. Harry’s head turned quickly to the side even though he didn’t remember telling it to do that. He could see a number of people who he thought were Death Eaters standing by some doorways with their wands drawn.

Harry began to feel a strange sensation filling him. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but it was a very satisfied feeling, one of immense accomplishment. It was similar to the feeling he had when he caught the Snitch in record time during his second Quidditch match.

He then noticed that he was no longer attached to the upturned table. His glasses were back on his face and he was now standing off to the side, looking past Ron and Hermione to the entrance door. Half a dozen Death Eaters were holding the door shut magically. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten here or why his arms were folded in front of him holding a wand that was not his own. He seemed to be waiting.

Harry was startled again by an enormous BOOM! that echoed through the room suddenly. He saw the black door ripple. The only thing holding it together was the magic being performed on it. The impact caused a large slab of stone to fall from the wall, and it splintered when it smacked against the hard marble floor, its pieces skidding across the room.

Wormtail was standing next to him. Harry turned and said, “I can feel his emotions, Wormtail, but I cannot hear his thoughts yet.”

What? Did I say that? Harry thought to himself.

“It will come, my Master,” replied Wormtail.

Harry felt himself growing weaker as he watched the scene unfold. He seemed joyous, but still didn’t know why. Surrounded by Death Eaters, his friends chained to two tables, there was nothing here to be happy about. And yet he felt this strange emotion.

He looked at Ron and Hermione, both of whom were staring hopefully at the door, and a tremendous pang of sadness hit him. As he watched his two best friends, whom he could not help, his eyes began to well up and a tear rolled down one cheek. Oddly, Harry instantly regained some of his strength almost as if he had been given a powerful Pepperup Potion. He felt immensely fortified. Another huge BOOM sounded against the door, startling him.

As he stared at his two best friends his heart crept up into his throat. Ron and Hermione both turned back to Harry at the same time. They all stared at each other for a moment before Ron shouted to him, “Harry!” But it was a very muffled and distant scream. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but an unseen force quickly closed it. All Harry could do was look at them; his eyes began to water once more.

And then something truly bizarre happened. Through all the yelling, the people barking orders, the reverberating pounding on the door, Harry thought he heard something quiet. Something like … whispering. Undefined and directionless, he was still sure he had heard it coming from … somewhere. He concentrated intensely on the whispered sounds. The pandemonium of the room was growing more distant, and the whispers were getting louder and more distinct. He could almost make them out. And one voice sounded familiar … very familiar. It was a friendly voice that gave him surprising warmth and comfort. Most of the voices were like mumbling, but this voice was saying something specific. Something like …

“Harry …”

Harry looked around. He seemed not to notice that his body wanted to do something else, but couldn’t. A very large BOOM echoed through the chamber and visible cracks were beginning to form throughout the structure of the wall, but Harry only heard the sound as if it were a heavy heartbeat. He was concentrating hard on that voice. And then he heard it again.

“Harry …” the voice repeated.

He knew that voice. But where? Who? No, it couldn’t be. Not … But … Could it be?

“Sirius?” Harry muttered.

“Harry …”

“Sirius!” He slowly looked around. Where? he asked himself. Where was it coming fro-

Harry looked through an open door to his left and saw the top of the archway. Through the doorway and down the large seat-like stairs the black curtain of the veiled arch was swaying slightly.

Another huge BOOM echoed through the room and the lintel that topped the barred door came crashing down to the floor. A Death Eater was grotesquely squashed beneath the enormous stone beam, but the door still held tentatively to the walls. Harry hadn’t really noticed any of this.

His heart was beating faster as he tried to walk toward the adjacent room. His legs didn’t seem to want to move, however. Harry got angry and struggled with his misbehaving limbs. He’d forgotten that he had been taken over by another entity. He didn’t understand why his body wasn’t readily responding to his commands. He concentrated harder, screaming in his own mind for his legs to move. And, finally, they did. He took a few painful steps toward the open doorway. Half the veil was now in view. But he still didn’t see any signs of his godfather. He must be further down in the room, Harry thought. And he heard the voice again.

“Harry …”

Yes! That’s it. His heart filled with the voice’s repeated encouragement, he began moving his legs again. But Harry struggled to pick up and put down his feet. It was like they were weighed down with concrete. One foot, then the other. It took all the concentration that he had to move himself.

A Death Eater standing near the entrance to the veil room looked at Harry and seemed about to ask a question, but Harry glared at him and the man quickly averted his eyes. Harry finally reached the doorway and stopped his struggled walking, but still saw no Sirius. A distant BOOM met his ears, but it was little more than background noise. Harry then felt himself try to turn around, but he succeeded in stopping his legs before they could move.

He determinedly took his first step down and his momentum carried him forward even faster, down each steep stair, all the way to the bottom of this strange amphitheater. He now stood before the raised stone dais on which sat a crumbling stone archway.

Harry then heard something very strange. He heard himself scream. And not just any scream, but one of true panic.

“Help me, you fools! STOP HIM!”

His voice filled the chamber and Harry then fully remembered what had happened. He had been chained to an inclined table. Ron and Hermione were screaming in a blind panic. A ghostly vision approached him and then … Voldemort had entered his body. The Dark Lord had wanted him. He wanted Harry to give him eternal life by transferring his essence into a healthy body. Harry was to be his first host. He was trying to control Harry, but he couldn’t, not fully. Harry still had his strength; his will hadn’t been broken.

Harry stared plaintively at the delicately moving black curtain. Sirius had gone through here. He was in there and he was calling to him. Harry now realized he could end it. He could destroy the Dark Lord and be with Sirius. He would take Lord Voldemort with him through the veil and whatever was pounding on that door would save Ron and Hermione. It was so clear. It was so easy. It was just one more step.

“Harry …”

Once more the voice spoke to him in exactly the same pitch and intonation. It needed him. And he needed Sirius. Harry raised his hand toward the black curtain and lifted his foot with all his might, placing it on the dais. As he pushed himself up, transferring his weight to his front foot, a piercing yell resounded from the doorway behind him.

“MASTER!”

Part of him tried to turn his head to look back at the man shouting behind him, but Harry leaned forward. There was a slight smile on his face. His hand moved the delicate curtain aside. And he stepped through.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy and Ludo Bagman ran to the entrance to the Death Room where the archway stood. Peter Pettigrew was sitting on the top step, distraught. In all the confusion, none of them had noticed their Master was moving toward the veil until it was too late.

The stunned disbelief on their faces was instantly broken as the door to the Department of Mysteries, along with much of the stone surrounding it, exploded into the room. A huge beast of a Triceratops skidded behind the debris, knocking over the table holding Voldemort’s now empty body, the bubbling cauldron, the stone basin, and the vacant table that briefly held Harry Potter. The lot of it smashed violently into the far wall with a horrible CRUNCH!

Just about everyone in the room screamed, especially Ron and Hermione. The goblins at the other end of the room were mashed against the far walls along with a couple of unfortunate Death Eaters. Students and teachers from Hogwarts stormed in, wands drawn, shouting a great battle cry. Death Eaters turned to face them with their own wands and both groups stood tensely, waiting for the hail of spells to begin flying across the room.

Min the Triceratops struggled to regain his footing on the slick marble floor and, when he eventually found it, he began turning quickly back and forth looking for someone to fight.

Gasps from the Death Eaters then circled the room as a giant towering fury stepped through the broken doorway. Hagrid strode to the center of the room, his umbrella tucked away neatly in his belt. His fists were balled in anger and the wild look on his face worried everyone, including Professor McGonagall. Hagrid clearly wasn’t interested in using magic, he just wanted to pummel someone.

A strange sort of truce had enveloped the room, however. Everyone was looking around, stunned at what had just happened. Both Ron and Hermione were crying. Professor McGonagall moved to free them before the room erupted in a flurry of flying spells. “Where is Harry?” she whispered to Hermione.

Hermione could barely speak. “In there. He — he went into the veil room,” she stammered. “He and — and … Voldemort went in. I think — I … I don’t know. …”

Min had become human once more. He was sweating and breathing hard as he looked around, giving his most intimidating sneer to make sure anyone who might be interested in starting a fight thought better of the idea. He then walked toward McGonagall and the group made their way over to the entrance to the veil chamber. Lucius Malfoy and the handful of collected Death Eaters near the entrance to the Death Room backed away along the wall, trying not to trip over the scattered debris from the broken tables. Wands were still drawn as both groups watched each other apprehensively. Wormtail remained sobbing on the top step. Professor McGonagall, Hermione, and the newly freed Ron reached the threshold and peered down into the small amphitheater. They saw no one. The only movement came from the black curtain of the veil, which swayed slightly in the non-existent breeze.

The surreal scene had now sunk in enough for everyone to understand. The culmination of so many years of struggle for all had come to a very abrupt and unexpected end. The Ministry of Magic had finally defeated its greatest foe, in its own building, no less. The Death Eaters no longer had a Master to follow. The prophecy had been fulfilled.

Both Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter were dead.

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