Harry noticed that the others were closing in on Ginny. He took a step to the side and stood right in front of Ginny, shielding her, holding the orb to his chest.
"If you want to deal with any of us, you'll have to break this."
He said to Béla Trix, "If you don't take it back, I don't think your master will be very happy, will he?"
She didn't move, just stared at Harry and licked her thin lips with the tip of her tongue.
"So," Harry said, "what kind of prophecy is this?"
He couldn't think of what to do, so he just kept talking.
Neville's arm was pressed tightly against his arm. He could feel Neville shaking, and he could feel someone breathing rapidly into the back of his head.
He hoped that they were all actively thinking of a way to escape, because his mind was blank.
"What kind of prophecy?"
Béla Trix repeated, the grin on her face gradually disappearing.
"Are you kidding? Harry Potter? "
"No, I'm not kidding," Harry's eyes swept across the Death Eaters, looking for a weak link, a gap that they could escape from. "Why does Voldemort want it?"
Several Death Eaters hissed in dissatisfaction.
"You dare call him by his name?"
Béla Trix whispered.
"Of course," Harry still held the orb firmly, in case someone tried to steal it again with magic. "Yes, I have no problem saying that name, Vol-"
"Shut up!"
Béla Trix screamed.
"How dare you say his name from your lowly mouth, how dare you defile it with your mongrel tongue, how dare you —"
"Do you know that he's a mongrel too?"
Harry said without hesitation. Hermione moaned in a low voice in his ear. Obviously, her heart was palpitating very badly.
"Voldemort? Of course, his mother is a Wizard, but his father is a Muggle. Does he keep telling you that he's a purebred Wizard? "
"Faint —"
"No!"
A beam of red light shot out from the tip of Béla Trix's wand, but Malfoy's spell deflected it, and it struck a shelf a foot to Harry's left, shattering some of its glass spheres.
Two ghostly figures, pearly white and fluttering like smoke, stretched out from the shards of glass on the floor and spoke.
Their voices rose and fell, and only a few words could be heard amidst the shouts of Malfoy and Béla Trix.
"A new one will appear at the end of the day …"
An elderly figure with whiskers said.
"Don't attack, we need the Prophecy Orb!"
"How dare he — how dare he —"
Béla Trix screamed incoherently. "He's standing there — the filthy bastard —"
"Wait until we get the Orb of Prophecy!"
Cried Malfoy.
"… After that, no one will come …"
The figure of the young woman said.
The two figures that emerged from the shattered glass ball melted into a thin layer of gas and disappeared without a trace, leaving only the glass shards on the floor.
They had given Harry an idea, however, and the problem was how to tell the others what he was thinking.
"You want me to give you the Orb … You haven't told me what's so special about the prophecy," said Harry.
Harry said, stalling for time. He moved his foot slowly to one side, to touch the feet of the others.
"Don't play games with us, Potter."
"I'm not playing games," said Harry.
Harry replied, moving his foot as he talked to them. Then he felt someone's toe and stepped on it. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him.
He knew that he had stepped on Hermione's foot.
"What is it?"
Asked Hermione softly, very cautiously, from behind.
"Didn't Dumbledore ever tell you that the reason for your scar is hidden in the Department of Mysteries?"
"I — what?"
Said Harry, and then, quite forgetting his plan, asked, "What's wrong with my scar?"
"What's wrong?"
Hermione asked again in a low voice. Her tone was even more urgent than before.
"How is that possible?"
Said Malfoy gleefully. Several of the Death Eaters laughed again. Under the cover of the laughter, Harry moved his lips as quietly as possible and said to Hermione through his teeth, "Break the shelf —"
"Dumbledore never told you?"
Said Malfoy again. "Then that explains why you didn't come here earlier, Potter. The Dark Lord wondered why —"
"— when I say begin —"
"— why you didn't come running when he told you in your dream where it was hidden.
He thought that instinctive curiosity would make you thirsty for that exact information … "
"Did he?"
Said Harry, behind him, not so much hearing as feeling that Hermione was passing on his words to the others.
He had to find a way to keep the conversation going, to distract the Death Eaters.
"So he wants me to get the Orb of Prophecy, right? Why? "
"Why?"
Said Malfoy happily. "Because only the person mentioned in the prophecy, Potter, has the right to get it from the Department of Mysteries. The Dark Lord discovered this when he used others to steal the Orb of Prophecy for him."
"Then why does he want to steal the prophecy about me?"
"It's about the two of you, Potter, it's about the two of you …"
Have you never thought about why the Black Devil King wanted to kill you when you were still a baby? "
Through the hole in Malfoy's hood, Harry stared into his gray, half-visible eyes.
Was this prophecy the reason why his parents died?
Was that the reason why he was wearing that lightning-shaped scar?
Was the answer to all of this in his own hands?
"Someone made the same prophecy for me and Voldemort?"
He said softly, staring at Lucius Malfoy, his hand clenched around the lukewarm glass orb.
It was barely bigger than a Golden Snitch, and it was still covered with dust.
"He asked me to come and get the Orb for him … Why didn't he come and get it himself?"
"He came and got it himself?"
Béla Trix laughed maniacally and screamed, "People have completely ignored the return of the Dark Lord. Would he walk into the Department of Magic at this time?
Now they are wasting time looking for my dear cousin. Would the Dark Lord expose himself to Auror? "
This woman was indeed a lunatic, but it was always easier to get the words of a lunatic than a normal person.
At this time, Harry finally showed a different kind of wisdom.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
