The hair on the back of Harry's neck raised a bit as he stepped off the elevator to the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore had finally decided that it was a good time to grab the prophecy from within the Department, and they had gathered the calvary to make sure that this was to be as safe as possible. Sirius and Remus flanked either side of Harry, while Dumbledore took point, and Nymphadora brought up the rear. Harry felt a bit awkward, like he was some kind of VIP with a high security detail, but he supposed at this specific moment, he was.
"Wotcher, lil bro. It's not that bad. Been here lots of times, did a security rotation during training." Nym said, reaching up and ruffling Harry's hair. "Weird stuff in here, but the dangerous stuff is properly contained. Don't go poking around on anything we're not here for, and we'll be fine."
"Indeed, the Department of Mysteries does contain many items of great danger, but they are well contained, and constantly monitored by some of the Wizarding World's best and brightest." Dumbledore said with a reassuring smile. "As long as we interact with only what we have come for, this will be a most unexciting trip."
This calmed Harry down a bit, but he still felt on edge. This had been the first time he'd REALLY been out in public since Voldemort's return in June, and something in him simply screamed that he was in danger.
Walking up to the large opening that had "Department of Mysteries" carved into a marble plaque above it, they were stopped by a large unfamiliar man with deep sallow eyes. "Halt. No entry into the Department of Mysteries without a reason." The man said, his voice deep.
Harry stepped forward, swallowing his nervousness. Dumbledore had prepared him for this, HARRY was the one mentioned in the prophecy, and therefore, he had to be the one who spoke up here, he was the one with the reason. "I have reason to believe that I have a prophecy stored within the Hall of Prophecy. I would like to retrieve it." Harry said, his hands shaking. There was no going back from this point, he'd said it, they would be retrieving the prophecy one way or another now.
The man glowered at Harry for a moment, before stepping aside. "You may enter, you must speak with the Head of the Hall of Prophecies to receive information about your Prophecy." He said, as Harry and co. stepped through the archway, nodding at him and moving on. After they were out of earshot, the man rushed off to a side hallway, before sending a message through a private Floo. Harry Potter was retrieving the prophecy, it was now or never.
The Department of Mysteries was eerily quiet as they stepped through, where other parts of the ministry simply burst with activity, everything in this department seemed quiet and still. Only the occasionally clack or bubble of liquid could be heard over the clicks of their shoes on the tiled floor.
"Is it always so quiet in here?" Harry asked, glancing around nervously. A side passage he could see through seemed to simply contain a large selection of tanks filled with brains suspended in fluid. Harry felt no desire to go in there.
"The Department of Mysteries is kept with very small amounts of staff, everyone very carefully vetted to ensure that they will not use its contents for ill intent." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he glanced over its halls. "Those who work here are called the Unspeakables, so named because they cannot reveal much about the contents of this wing. Some information does leak out, but it is very rare."
Approaching the desk in front of the labelled 'Hall of Prophecies', Harry was greeted by an elderly man, bald with deep set wrinkles, and a small shock white goatee. "I've expected you here for many years, Mr. Potter. A pleasure to finally meet you." The man said, standing up from his chair, and letting his can tap on the floor as he moved closer to Harry. He was hunched over slightly, seemingly from many years of sitting at a desk and looking over something.
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage sir, I have no idea who you are." Harry said politely. He could take a guess that this could be the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy, but he couldn't really be sure. The desk had no nameplate or identification.
"As I'm sure you experience quite often." The old man said with a jovial smile. "I am the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy, you may call me Allan."
"A pleasure to meet you then Allan." Harry said, somewhat awkwardly as he gave the old man a once over. He was, for all intents and purposes, an otherwise unremarkable old man. "How did you know I would be coming?"
"As the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy, I have inherent knowledge of all the prophecies contained within. Once the subject of a prophecy is known, I know it. The magics that dictate this go back thousands of years, and are not widely understood even today. Prophecy is ancient magic, possibly the most ancient, and the role of the Keeper of the Prophecies is to provide the prophecies to those who need them. Follow me, and I shall show you where your prophecy is stored." Allan walked forward, his can clicking against the floor with every step as Harry and his entourage followed him. "Your prophecy was the only one recorded in 1980, so it was the only thing I had to chew on for that entire year."
"You know the contents of the prophecies?" Harry asked, somewhat surprised. Dumbledore had made it clear that only he knew the full text of the prophecy before he had told the others.
"Yes and no." The Keeper said as he continued his march through the shelves. "If anyone were to look into my mind, they would not find the contents of a prophecy, but I am aware of them. Think of it like remembering a dream, it is on the edge of your mind, but never quite tangible." With a few final steps, he reached his cane to a shelf three rows from the bottom, tapping a small placard that read: "SPT to APWBD, Dark Lord and ? Harry Potter"
"Why is there a question mark?" Harry wondered aloud as he stared at the misty orb. It called to him in some off way, made him want to uncover what was contained within, even though he knew its contents.
"When the prophecy was first given, there was significant ambiguity in who could be the subject other than the unnamed Dark Lord." Allan said, bringing his cane back to the ground. "Prophecies do have a few rules though, so we were able to make some predictions about subjects once certain requirements were met. Prophecies take effect immediately, and events discussed within them at least begin within 3 years. Since there was mention of a Dark Lord, the only person who fit that bill within that timeframe was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, so when he attacked you, and you defeated him, we had reason to believe that you had been the one marked by the prophecy, having met all the requirements within, you were then added to the Prophecy as one of the two people who could remove it, being the subject of a prophecy after all."
"Who is the other one who can remove it?" Harry asked. He knew that the prophecy could have referred to Neville as well up until that Halloween, did that still count?
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Allan said simply. "Magic doesn't pick sides, he is as much a subject of this prophecy as you are, and therefore has every ability to pull the prophecy from here as you do. I do imagine though, that he would not last long attempting to simply walk in here and take it."
Harry nodded, reaching up to grab the orb. "Is there anything I need to do to take it?"
Allan shook his head. "No, simply grasp it like you would at object. Once it is removed from the shelf, the protections leave. Placing it back on the shelf would return them, but something tells me that isn't something you have on the agenda."
"You'd be correct." Harry said, reaching up and grabbing the orb. It felt… eerily cool in his hands, and merely by holding it whispers of the prophecy fluttered through his mind at the edge of his consciousness. Had he not known what this would say, he wouldn't be able to place the words, but knowing them he could feel how they interacted with his mind. "Professor?" Harry asked, turning to Dumbledore.
"Excellent work my boy." Dumbledore said as he reached into his sleeve, pulling out a small pouch and opening the top for Harry to drop the orb into. Harry did so, and Dumbledore pulled the strings taut, before duplicating the bag, and handing a copy to everyone in their party. "A hopefully unnecessary precaution." Dumbledore said with a small chuckle, as everyone stashed their bag somewhere. "A great many thanks to you Keeper Allan. I wish you a pleasant evening."
"You as well. I shall see you out of the Hall of Prophecy." Allan said, motioning for them to return the way they came. Once outside the Hall of Prophecy, Allan smiled at them. "I wish you luck in whatever your endeavors with the Prophecy are… it is my hope that you will succeed Mr. Potter."
"Thank you, Allan." Harry said with an uneasy smile. Something in his gut was telling him something was wrong, but what exactly, he didn't know.
Stepping out through the Department of Mysteries, Harry unfortunately discovered what was filling him with dread. Whether it was the knowledge of prophecy, or merely the magical connection everyone assumed Harry had with him, his gut had been correct. Standing in the foyer in front of the Department of Mysteries, far removed from any Auror who could step in and help them, was Voldemort, his white scaly skin reflecting the flickering orange flames of the torches surrounding him. With him were three others, one Harry was far too familiar with, and two others Harry had only known in passing.
Most familiar was Barty Crouch Jr., a man whose face still occasionally graced Harry's nightmares. Memories of being chained to the angel in Little Hangleton, the demented man's face looking directly at his. The straw blonde hair and freckled face glaring at him as though his mere existence was a personal offense.
With him and Voldemort were Corban Yaxley, and Patrick Parkinson. Parkinson, Harry knew to be Pansy's father. He had met the man briefly at Susan and Daphne's debut. The man hadn't liked Harry very much then, and now he could see why. The feeling was now QUITE mutual. Yaxley was all too familiar from that night at the graveyard himself. Harry noticed the glove he wore on the hand that did not present his wand, how the fingers didn't sit quite right in it. The silver hand beneath was a passing facsimile of a hand, but moved awkwardly. No joints meant that his fingers did not bend, they curved, more tendril than phalange.
"Surely Dumbledore that you have not gone senile in your old age?" Voldemort drawled, his snake-like voice hissing the s on the word senile. "Did you truly believe you could fully hide the prophecy from me? That I would not know when you came to collect it? That I would not intervene?"
Everyone in Harry's group had their wands in their hands near instantly, as Dumbledore stepped forward, gently nudging Harry, and the others behind him. "I had no such delusions that you would not find out we had acquired the prophecy, although perhaps I'd hoped we would have been safely away from here before you could do anything about it… Tom." Dumbledore said, letting the ever so common name slide out of his mouth.
For the briefest of moments, Voldemort allowed himself to flinch. Those standing with him couldn't have noticed, their attention faced forward and away from their master, but Harry saw it. Saw how the memory of being merely a man, of hearing what he TRULY was, wounded him. "And yet here you stand, caught with your metaphorical pants down." Voldemort spat venomously at Dumbledore.
"You won't win here, Tom." Dumbledore said flatly. "You are wasting your time."
"On that matter, we disagree Dumbledore. My victory is well in hand." Voldemort said with a sneer, as his wand shot up. In a single instant, the air crackled with magic as two wizards, titanic in reputation, bore down on each other. A Dark Lord fighting Hogwarts Headmaster, as magic bolts rocked the corridor like thunder.
Sirius, Remus, and Nymphadora formed up in front of Harry, as Crouch, Yaxley, and Parkinson took their places opposite them, beginning their offensive push. Remus erected a magical barrier between them that seemed to catch the spellfire, but it was obviously tiring him out. "Harry, run. We've got this, you make sure you get away." Remus said, as Sirius and Nymphadora fired a countervolley of spells against the Death Eaters.
"I can't run Remus. I fought him in the Graveyard, I can fight here. I can't just sit here and let you fight my battles for me." Harry said, bringing up his wand and shooting a variation on his shockwave charm, staggering the Death Eaters.
"Moony, you know good and well he's got far too much of his mother in him for us to fight it." Sirius said, with a cocky grin. "Whether its Lily or Andy, it's true either way. We're not going to get away with sending him somewhere, and that shockwave probably just brought reinforcements, even if it's going to take them some time."
Harry smirked as he took his place in the offense line, standing alongside his uncles and sister as an equal. "We've got them outnumbered. We'll win." Harry said confidently.
"Don't be so sure, boy!" Crouch said, shooting forward and firing a blasting curse beside Harry, who dodged on instinct. Both lines split as Crouch followed Harry into a side passage, while Yaxley and Parkinson stood their ground against the Blacks and the Werewolf.
Harry huffed as he was in the side passage, a brief healing charm to deal with the ringing in his ears from the explosion and his eyes locked onto Crouch, who chuckled. "I must say boy, I never truly did get to mention how impressed I was with you." Crouch said, firing a few spell bolts at Harry, who caught them with small shield charms and sent them careening into the nearby walls. A plaque detailing the accomplishments of a Tybalt Yaxley was destroyed. Harry didn't have a moment to feel bad about it. "Your marks in all your classes were excellent." A spell bolt fired and was banished into a statue. It was probably of a bird before it became rubble. "Your talent incredible." Another bolt, a painting set ablaze. "And Determination unmatched, even now, you stand tall in the face of adversity." A drawn out beam was fired from the wand, Harry's shield charm buckled from the power, but didn't break. It was sent further down the hall where it drilled a hole deep into the stonework. "You would have been one hell of a Death Eater. Probably could have even taken mine or Bella's spot. If you had earned it, I wouldn't have even been mad."
"You're already mad." Harry spat. "Mad as a hatter, both for what you do, and for thinking I'd ever join your club of bigots and murderers." Harry fired back his first offense of the night, a bludgeoning curse aimed for Crouch's hand. Harry wasn't about to get lethal here, but breaking Crouch's hand? That was honestly preferable. Crouch caught the spell with a cackle, flicking it to the side with his wand. Harry fired another, and another, pressing the offensive as the mad former Azkaban inmate cackled.
"Oh you're so FUN Potter." Crouch said as he sent a retaliatory curse. His dodge of a piercing jinx caused his curse to go high, missing Harry. "None of the other Death Eaters that are still around are anywhere NEAR as fun to test my skill against. You'd have been an excellent right hand for me." Crouch turned the offensive around, firing more and more curses. Harry noticed his repertoire wasn't aiming lethal. Bludgeoning curses, pain jinxes, a gout of flame. Unfun aspects for certain… but not lethal.
"Scared to kill me, Crouch?" Harry asked as he recalculated his plan. He needed to goad the man, get him to overcommit. It was risky, and a better duelist would probably be able to power through this, but Crouch just had too much experience over Harry. Crouch was every bit the academic powerhouse in school that Harry was now, and was active in the duelling club when it still existed. Crouch had seen more duels and battles than Harry likely ever would, even if Harry was more talented and better trained, he simply hadn't had the experience to make the mistakes and learn from them that Crouch did.
"Oh no, the Dark Lord wants that honor, and I, his ever faithful servant, will be happy to deliver." Crouch said, before shoving his wand forward, a powerful bludgeoning curse aimed for Harry's chest. If that connected, he'd surely be out of the fight.
"Thought so." Harry said, as he pulled one final trick out of sleeve. "Reverso!" Harry incanted, his spell slamming into the bludgeoning curse, causing it to change course and slam into Crouch himself. Crouch coughed up blood as the curse connected, his ribs shattered, and the wind completely leaving him. The effect wasn't lethal, but god, did it certainly hurt. "Stupefy." Harry followed up, knocking the Death Eater unconscious. Harry summoned the madman's wand to his hand, before charging wand-first to the hallway where Sirius, Remus, and Nymphadora were dueling Parkinson and Yaxley.
Where Harry and Barty had dueled each other as equals more or less, Parkinson and Yaxley recognized that they were outnumbered and likely outmatched by the three Order members. As such, they'd played a much more defensive duel. Against lesser wizards, it might have worked out for them, but Sirius, Remus, and Nymphadora were not lesser wizards, and the trio had decimated their defense, and had finished stunning Yaxley as Harry emerged from the corridor.
"Harry! You're alright." Sirius said, rushing and hugging the boy.
"I'm fine. Crouch wasn't trying to kill me. Said Voldemort wanted that honor." Harry said, patting his uncle on the back. "Crouch is unconscious and I've got his wand. You have Parkinson and Yaxley's?"
Remus held up the pair of wands, nodding. "Taken care of, and those stunners should keep them out for a while."
"Then let's go help Dumbledore. There's no way Voldemort can manage five against one." Harry said, and the others nodded.
Dumbledore and Voldemort had moved their way to a larger atrium within the department, each wizard making use of the space and sending devastating spells against their opponent. Voldemort had conjured what appeared to be a massive serpent composed of lightning that surged toward Dumbledore, who countered by calling forth a wall of stone that took the serpent head on, dissipating it's power deep into the earth. "A fool you are to never learn from the muggles, Tom. They've discovered a great many things on channeling electricity." Dumbledore spoke, as though giving a lecture to an unruly student. In many ways, this likely came from years of experience doing exactly that.
"Stupefy!" Harry, Remus, Sirius, and Nymphadora called out, shooting their spells towards Voldemort, who blocked them all with a magical barrier.
Voldemort turned to them, his eyes widening ever so slightly at seeing them. "Useless Death Eaters." He fired a spell bolt at them, a massive streak of lightning that Remus caught on the tip of his wand, holding back against the power as Sirius fired a bolt to knock it to the side, Nymphadora firing back with a smaller bolt of her own. It caught Voldemort in the hand, obviously wounding him. "You cannot kill me. I have cheated death, have become immortal. To strike me down would end in your failure. I am eternal. I am inevitable."
Harry stood resolute, making his way to stand beside Dumbledore, wand pointed at Voldemort. Sirius, Remus, and Nymphadore each also took their places, forming a well spaced wall against the mad wizard. "Maybe you can't be killed, but we've already seen that your body can be destroyed. I did it twice myself." Harry said, glaring at the dark wizard. "Even if we can't finish you for good… do you think you can handle another fifteen or so years as a wraith? That's fifteen years for ME to get stronger, while you can't do anything. I dueled you to a standstill in the graveyard in June… how do you imagine that'll go when it's a full blown adult you're fighting, not a 14 year old who had just spent three hours fighting his way through a maze?"
Voldemort faltered. It was only for an instant, and Harry was certain only he truly noticed it, but he did notice. For the briefest of instances, Voldemort had truly felt fear.
"That of course, even assumes you could GET another body. Crouch found you this time, but how many others could do it? Your top lieutenants are rotting in Azkaban, and they aren't getting any younger. What was it you told Nott that night? 'I see how your knees buckle as you kneel?' The youngest of your lieutenants must be… 50 or so now? Surely you recognize they won't be quite the fighting force they were in their day." Harry pressed. He was playing a risky gambit, but he knew that right now, he needed Voldemort to do just one thing. He needed the Dark Lord to crack. To break his invincible facade and show true weakness. Make a god bleed, and people will cease to believe in him. Voldemort was no god, but to make him 'bleed' would dispel his mystique.
Voldemort blinked. Uncertainty filling his features for a moment. Long enough for everyone to see. In an instant his form turned to smoke and he vanished.
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, the bravado and challenge in him leaving in an instant. His heart raced into his throat as he struggled to breathe, the beginnings of an anxiety attack flowing through him. Nymphadora grabbed him, holding him tightly as the doors flew open, a squad of aurors, including Kingsley Shacklebolt and Amelia Bones stepped in, wands at the ready. Seeing the incapacitated Death Eaters though, they immediately moved to apprehend them as Kingsley and Amelia approached Harry and his group.
"When you told me you were coming to get the prophecy today… I expected fewer bodies." Amelia said as two junior aurors bound Crouch, Yaxley, and Parkinson. "I take it these three didn't come alone?"
"You'd be correct Madame Bones. He was here as well, although I believe Mr. Potter scared him off." Dumbledore said, a slightly mirthful twinkle in his eye as he glanced over to Harry. "Quite remarkable it was."
"Capturing him would have been better." Amelia said, but sighed. "I'm glad you're all okay. I'm sure I'd never get the end of it if something happened to Harry here. Susan would be inconsolable."
"Do my best to make sure that never happens." Harry said, between deep breaths.
"I believe the blow Harry just dealt to Voldemort is quite a major one. For once, he feels truly, truly vulnerable, and with even more of his top lieutenants gone… he'll be getting desperate very quickly I believe. Tonight's victory, and that is what this is, a victory, is quite the blow." Dumbledore stated, smiling widely.
"Only Malfoy and Nott are missing from behind bars now." Sirius said, looking as the aurors carted the Death Eaters to their cells. "Nott isn't exactly in any condition to be on the front lines anymore, and Malfoy's too focused on politics. He's running out of anyone scary enough to lead a battle."
"He apparently has at least one Unspeakable on his payroll." Amelia notes with an annoyed glare down the hallway. "It'll be difficult to narrow down who tipped him off, but not impossible. Having one of them though is noteworthy. Means we can't know who is safe and who isn't."
"It is how it has always been." Dumbledore said solemnly. "My war with Grindelwald was much the same, but we have an advantage here that we didn't have then, nor with our first war against Voldemort."
"What's that professor?" Harry asked.
"We didn't have you before, Harry." Dumbledore said with a smile. "We didn't have someone people flocked to for leadership like people seem to do you. Even with all my years of experience, I believe everyone here is more likely to listen when you tell them to do something than if I do." Dumbledore chuckled as Harry turned red in the face. "It is a sign of a great leader that people listen to them instinctually. And the sign of a great man that you would not seek to abuse this power."
Harry felt like he wanted the world to swallow him as Sirius, Remus, and Nymphadora laughed at his embarrassment, but a small piece of him swelled with pride. Today, unequivocally, was a total win against Voldemort. Hopefully, the first of many.