After their long flight on broomsticks with no time to rest, Harry and his group had stormed into the Ministry and now stood inside the Department of Mysteries.
Nothing moved besides them, and above all, it was dark.
Only one light source existed—candles mounted on the walls.
Blue flames flickered and swayed, amplifying the eerie atmosphere.
Most troublesome was that the circular room contained numerous doors, with no way to tell which led to their destination.
In Harry's dream, it had been opposite the entrance, but this Department rotated its circular chamber each time someone entered or left, scrambling the door positions.
At least Hermione was marking rooms they'd already entered with scorch marks, preventing them from entering the same place twice.
But even so, there were over a dozen doors, and no way to know which was correct.
...Incidentally, the marked room contained a tank with floating brains. Completely inexplicable.
The next room they entered was dimly lit and rectangular.
The center was sunken, with steep steps carved toward the pit's heart.
Harry and the others descended the stairs encircling the room and advanced to the center.
There stood a stone dais with a stone archway upon it.
A black veil hung from the arch, rippling quietly despite the absence of wind.
"Is someone there?"
Harry couldn't shake the feeling that someone was behind the veil.
But when he walked around to the arch's back side, no one was there.
Strange... he'd confirmed no one was behind it, yet he still felt someone's presence.
He could even hear murmuring, whispering voices.
What was this? Was someone there?
If he stepped onto the dais and passed through this veil, would he find out?
"Harry, let's go. Please?"
"I hear voices. Can't anyone else hear them?"
"No one's talking! Harry!"
Hermione gripped Harry's arm with a frightened voice, trying to pull him back.
But Harry resisted.
As if summoned, he felt the temptation to pass through the veil.
Then Mirabel grabbed his arm.
"Stop, Potter... if you go through that, you'll never come back."
"What?"
"That's something so dangerous even the Ministry hasn't figured it out. No one knows who made it or when. Only one thing is certain... it's always trying to drag someone in. And once you succumb to the temptation and pass through, you never return."
Harry looked at Mirabel in surprise.
She—that Mirabel—was sweating.
She was glaring at the arch with more wariness than he'd ever seen from her.
"There's speculation it might connect to the afterlife, but even that's uncertain..."
"I-it's that dangerous?"
"Yes. Even I don't want to go near this thing."
Harry swallowed hard and averted his eyes from the dais.
If something genuinely scared Mirabel, it was too dangerous to contemplate.
They dragged away Ginny and Neville, who'd been staring at the arch with entranced expressions, and left the room.
Next they reached a locked room, but Harry excluded it since he'd been able to enter in his dream, and moved to the next one.
When he opened that door, Harry was certain.
This was it!
Beautiful, diamond-sparkling illumination.
Clocks of every size arranged throughout the room.
No mistake—this was the room from his dream. The room where Sirius had been tortured!
"This way!"
"Don't rush, Harry. If You-Know-Who is ahead, we need to be careful now more than ever."
"I know... but..."
Even with Edith's admonishment, he couldn't suppress his impatience.
Sirius was beyond this point—and so was he!
They passed between rows of desks, went past crystal bell jars, and reached the door behind them.
"This is it... we go through here..."
He looked at everyone's faces once.
Except for Mirabel, they all gripped their wands with tense expressions.
Slowly opening the door, they entered.
Inside was a room containing nothing but towering shelves.
Small glass orbs were packed densely on the shelves.
"...Something's off... you noticed, Reinagel?"
"Yeah... too quiet for someone being tortured."
Upon entering, Mirabel and Edith immediately sensed something wrong.
This place was strange—not a sound.
If Sirius was being tortured here as Harry claimed, they should hear screams or shouts.
Yet there was nothing. What did this mean?
"Be ready to cast spells at any moment... this might be a trap."
"Mm."
The group advanced by the light of blue-glowing candles.
Soon Harry seemed to find his destination.
Seeing a shelf marked '97,' he said "Here," and entered the passage beside it.
But no one was there.
No Sirius, no Voldemort, not even signs of struggle.
"Sirius should be right near here... somewhere around this area..."
Clear agitation colored Harry's voice.
Sirius wasn't here? Had it been just a dream, as Hermione said?
Refusing to accept this, Harry searched the adjacent shelf, then the next.
He couldn't be absent. After coming this far through such danger, it couldn't all be for nothing.
But Mirabel gripped Harry's shoulder, stopping him.
"Potter, Sirius Black isn't here. You've been set up."
"S-set up?"
"Look at this."
Mirabel pointed to a dust-covered glass orb on the shelf.
For some reason, it bore a date from sixteen years ago along with Harry's name.
Harry reached for it.
But again Mirabel blocked him.
"That's a prophecy, Potter."
"A prophecy?"
"Yes. Your fate... and Voldemort's fate are recorded there. He probably wanted this. That's why he showed you dreams and lured you here. Because no one except the subject can retrieve it."
Mirabel's lips curled upward as she looked behind them.
No one was there.
But she spoke as if she could already see enemies lurking in the darkness.
"Isn't that right, Lucius Malfoy?"
"—!"
"!"
"!?"
From the darkness came the clear sound of someone gasping.
Harry and the others whirled around, everyone raising their wands.
A pale-faced man with a pointed chin emerged reluctantly.
Behind him followed a dozen black figures.
"Cursed girl, Beresford... we were so close to success."
Lucius pointed his wand with naked anger.
But he didn't cast. Slowly, threateningly, he spoke:
"Now, Harry Potter... take that glass orb. Hand it to us. Then no one gets hurt."
"You expect me to believe you'll let us go home safely if I hand this over?"
Harry laughed derisively.
Did they really think he'd fall for such a childish trick?
Rather, it was obvious they'd be disposed of as soon as they complied.
"Where's Sirius—"
"Don't make me repeat myself, Potter. Sirius Black isn't here... they never captured him in the first place."
Mirabel cut off Harry's attempt to ask about Sirius's location.
But this was something Harry didn't want to acknowledge.
If he did, it would mean his tremendous foolishness had endangered his friends.
Knowing his state of mind, one of the hooded figures let out a cackling laugh.
A chillingly cold woman's voice.
"Wittle baby got scawed and woke up, thought the dweam was weal."
The baby-talk raised goosebumps.
Ron shifted at its hideousness, but Harry stopped him in a whisper.
"Don't do anything... not yet."
They shouldn't move now. Harry judged this so.
Because they hadn't attacked yet.
If they only wanted to kill him, they could have attacked already. But they hadn't.
Meaning there was a reason they couldn't easily attack.
Harry intuited they mustn't discard that advantage.
"Oh my, did you hear? He's planning to fight us, giving orders to the other children."
From the woman's perspective, Harry's courage seemed nothing but pathetic bravado.
She laughed at Harry's recklessness, and the Death Eaters echoed with mocking laughter.
"That's the kind he is. An attention-seeking wannabe hero... takes after his father, doesn't he? Now, Potter, take the prophecy and give it to me."
Harry thought.
They definitely wanted the prophecy. And that's why they weren't attacking.
If Mirabel's words were correct, no one but him could retrieve this prophecy.
That's why they'd summoned him here through dreams.
He didn't know what this prophecy was, but as long as he held it, they couldn't make any flashy attacks.
"I refuse."
"I see, a bit more persuasion is needed. Perhaps you'll be more cooperative after we torture one of your little friends before your eyes?"
As Harry continued refusing, the woman drew her wand impatiently.
But simultaneously, Mirabel moved and cast a spell.
"Acti—"
"Diffindo!"
The cutting charm from Mirabel's wand tore the woman's robes and made crimson flowers bloom.
Only now did Harry see the woman's face.
The terrifying witch's face from the newspaper.
The black-haired witch twisted into a demonic expression—Bellatrix Lestrange glared at Mirabel with bloodshot eyes.
"Don't make careless moves, Death Eater. Don't forget what you want is here."
"You... little brat..."
Mirabel glanced at Bellatrix, who looked ready to cast, and sneered.
But Harry noticed.
He didn't miss the single drop of sweat running down her cheek.
Apparently the situation was desperate enough to make even Mirabel anxious.
Yet she wore a confident smile, keeping her wand aimed at the Death Eaters as she spoke:
"Potter, take the prophecy from the shelf and give it to me."
"What?"
"They seem desperately eager for the prophecy for their precious master. I'll use it as a shield."
Harry honestly didn't fully trust Mirabel.
But it was also true he couldn't think of how to break through this situation.
Reason whispered to hand it over. They needed Mirabel's combat ability and intellect to escape.
Emotion whispered not to. This was his prophecy—he didn't want to entrust it to others.
After this internal struggle, Harry chose to give the prophecy to Mirabel.
He slowly removed the glass orb from the shelf and handed it to her.
"Next... Potter, you come forward too. Position yourself to shield everyone else as much as possible."
"Wh-what are you saying!? Are you trying to get Harry killed!?"
"No, Granger. They absolutely cannot kill Potter—that's why I'm telling him to move forward."
Hermione objected to deliberately putting Harry in front, but Mirabel coldly explained her reasoning.
The fact they weren't attacking supposedly because they didn't want to break the prophecy was already strange.
If they killed Harry here, the prophecy would become irrelevant.
Yet they weren't attacking.
This meant they had no intention of killing Harry.
"They're probably forbidden by their master. 'Don't kill Harry Potter because I want to kill him with my own hands.'"
The Death Eaters didn't respond to Mirabel's explanation.
But silence was the most eloquent affirmation.
Holding the glass orb so the grinding-teeth Bellatrix could see it, Mirabel gripped it firmly.
"Don't move... move and I'll crush this."
"Guh... you..."
"Oh, and don't think you can snatch it faster than I can crush it. I might crush it if you startle me. Well... unless you want to incur your master's wrath?"
"Gu, gugugugu..."
Listening to Mirabel's negotiation, Harry thought: excellent.
She'd brought the overwhelmingly disadvantageous situation to parity with just the prophecy.
Voldemort was absolute to the Death Eaters—someone whose anger they desperately wanted to avoid.
They couldn't know what terrible punishment awaited if they betrayed his expectations.
Mirabel had precisely targeted this psychological weak point, stopping their movements.
Sensing the stalemate, Harry timidly spoke:
"What is this prophecy about?"
"What's it about? You must be joking, Harry Potter."
"No joke. Why does Voldemort want it?"
Bellatrix's face twisted with displeasure at Harry's use of Voldemort's name.
A half-blood speaking their beloved master's name! Unacceptable!
With a vein bulging on her forehead, making no attempt to hide her fury, Bellatrix snarled:
"You dare speak the Dark Lord's name—"
In that instant!
A sharp sound of shattering glass interrupted Bellatrix's words.
The silver guardian emerging from behind Mirabel was smashing several glass orbs on the shelves.
Multiple prophecies spilled out simultaneously, their cacophonous chorus possessing enough destructive power to make the Death Eaters blanch.
The prophecy they sought was safe. Mirabel still held it.
But the fact she'd destroyed prophecies without hesitation unsettled them considerably.
"I didn't give you permission to speak unnecessarily, Lestrange. Just answer the questions you're asked like an idiot."
Though they were the cornered ones, Mirabel acted as if they held the advantage.
Bellatrix trembled with humiliation, biting her lip but unable to move.
Her master's orders were absolute. She couldn't let that prophecy be destroyed.
"...Everyone, touch me. Don't let them notice."
While threatening Bellatrix and the others without dropping her guard, Mirabel whispered this.
Edith, first to understand the meaning, grabbed Mirabel's robes and gripped Harry's hand.
"Mirabel's Disapparition. Everyone can escape from here."
"...!"
Harry desperately suppressed the joy about to show on his face.
Of course—that option!
Mirabel could already use Disapparition at this age.
And somehow, she could even use it within Hogwarts grounds, so even if anti-Disapparition magic was in place here, they could still escape.
Understanding this, Harry grabbed Hermione's clothes and quickly explained.
Once everyone connected, they'd Disapparate. They'd return to school.
"This prophecy records something about Potter and Voldemort... and apparently something else Voldemort cares about. Tell me—what exactly does he want from this prophecy?"
While Mirabel stalled with conversation, Hermione linked hands with Ron and Cedric.
From there, Cedric with Ginny, Ginny with Luna, and Luna with Neville.
Contact complete. Now they just needed to activate the magic.
"Mirabel, ready."
At Edith's signal, Mirabel nodded.
Pointing her wand, she gathered magic for one massive parting gift.
Big, flashy, and loud.
A firework spectacular enough to make even the complacent Ministry officials upstairs notice whether they wanted to or not.
Take the prophecy, alert the Ministry to the Death Eaters' presence, and inflict damage on departure.
Only by doing everything could one be considered first-rate.
"I've changed my mind. Death Eaters, I don't need the prophecy explained after all."
"What?"
"Voltage Raid!"
Lightning burst from her wand tip, threatening the Death Eaters.
The maximum-output electricity destroyed shelves, shattered the ceiling, and produced a tremendous roar.
Simultaneously, Mirabel pictured the area outside the Ministry in her mind and began the transfer.
At this timing, interference was impossible!
Harry and the others showed relieved expressions, certain of their safe return.
But... events occurred at the worst possible timing.
"Harry!"
"—Sirius!?"
It was Sirius Black himself, the very person they'd been searching for until moments ago.
He hadn't been captured by Death Eaters after all. He'd been properly at headquarters.
But he'd rushed to this battlefield to save his beloved Harry.
At the very moment of successful escape, of all times—!
And this produced the worst mistake Mirabel hadn't predicted.
Harry let go in surprise!
"—No, Harry! Your hand...!"
Edith frantically tried to reconnect their hands, but too late.
Mirabel's transfer magic completed with wonderful speed, successfully achieving departure from the scene.
Yes—leaving all the D.A. members behind!
"Ah... no... th-this can't...!"
With the sound, Mirabel and Edith both vanished.
Harry saw this and understood he'd missed the taxi.
And worse, he'd dragged all his companions down with him!
How foolish, how utterly stupid.
Not satisfied with dragging everyone here as collateral damage, he'd even stolen their escape chance.
As the Department of Mysteries descended into chaos with the Order of the Phoenix's intrusion, Harry could only keep blaming himself for his inadequacy.
***
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