Harry Potter: World at War

Chapter 1: The Ministry Gambit: Pt. 1

It was two o'clock when the fifth-years entered the Great Hall for the last of the O.W.L. Exams. Harry took his place in front of the face-down test paper and sighed.

He was exhausted from the rigors of testing, he just wanted this to all be over so he could go and sleep; then tomorrow, he and Ron were going to go down to the Pitch—he wanted a fly on Ron's broom, and he wanted to savor his freedom from the revision of all his course work.

"Turn over your papers." Professor Marchbanks called from the front of the Hall as she turned over the hour-glass. "You have one hour, and your time starts. . . now."

Harry was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749 and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?) but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere.

All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, so that the glowing red of his eyelids grew dark and cool. Vampires. How had vampires been involved?

Harry sat, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers and the sand trickled through the hourglass at the front. . .

He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last. . . the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors…

Straight across the stone floor and through the second door. . . patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry…

He slowly walked the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others…

Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres. . . his heart was beating very fast now. . . he was going to get there this time. . . when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows…

But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal. . . Harry's stomach contracted with fear… with excitement…

A voice issued from his mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness…

"Take it for me. . . lift it down, now. . . I cannot touch it. . . but you can. . . If only you'd stop hiding in the shape of that infernal mutt."

The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm. . . heard the high, cold voice say "Crucio!"

The shape on the floor let out a yelp of pain, attempted to stand onto its four legs, but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting…"

Very slowly, the shape of the dog morphed into an inhumanly gaunt man. His face was bloodstained, and his clothes torn. He was still trembling from the after effects of the Dark Lord's curse. Tortuously, the man raised his head and spat on the Dark Lord, his face twisted in horrific pain, yet rigid with his unwavering defiance.

"You'll have to kill me," Sirius Black whispered. "And if you do that. . . You'll lose your best chance at getting that prophecy."

"Oh you are right about that Black. In the end you shall die." The high cold voice agreed. "But first, you will fetch it for me. After all, isn't that what mongrels like you love to do? Don't worry if you don't, we've got hours and hours ahead of us. Nobody is scheduled to come back to the Department of Mysteries until tomorrow morning. Nobody will even hear your sweet, sweet, screams."

Sirius twisted on the floor, somehow rising to his feet. "My screams won't be the only ones echoing in this chamber!"

Sirius slid into his dog form and leapt for Harry's throat. He simply sidestepped the lunge, and swung a whip of fire from his wand. The lash struck Sirius's hindquarters and he yelped in pain, as he fell to the ground, returning to his human form.

"You fool!" Harry shouted, lashing out with his whip. "You dare attempt to harm me; I who have taken steps further than any other down the road to immortality?" The lash of flame carved into Sirius, opening up wounds all over his body, running together into a puddle of blood.

"I'd love to let you bleed out mongrel, but we do have a date to keep." Harry snarled. He waved his wand, and slowly the wounds closed up, stitching together, and healing with nary a scar.

"You do seem to respond well to my healing spells mutt." Harry said, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. "That just means I can be creative."

Somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk on to the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him. Everyone had got up out of their desks and backed away against a far wall except for Hermione, Ron, and surprisingly Neville, who all rushed over to help their friend.

"Harry what happened, are you alright?" Hermione asked frantically.

Harry hissed and clutched at his scar, as Neville and Ron each grabbed an arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Yeah I think so, scar really burns though." Harry spat through clenched teeth, as he gingerly steadied himself.

Umbridge burst into the room, a fearful Marietta Edgecombe at her shoulder. "Ms. Edgecombe informed me that there was a disturbance in the testing room. What is the meaning of this Mr. Potter?" Her sickly voice asked.

"Nothing." Harry replied. "Just a headache."

On the other side of the room, Malfoy threw his hand up in the air with a smirk before chiming in. "Excuse me professor, Potter fell out of his chair screaming and clutching his head. I think it was supposed to be a signal that the Gryffindors created to trade answers."

"Thank you Mr. Malfoy that will be enough for now." Umbridge said happily.

"Thanks to you Mr. Potter, that will be a hundred points from Gryffindor for each student in the room, ten of you in total." She added eagerly, totaling it up. "As for you, Mr. Potter you personally will fail your History O.W.L. for speaking during a silent examination. You may leave the room now."

"You can't do that." Ron screamed at her, nearly spitting with rage.

"I assure you I can Mr. Weasley, you have a night's detention, and unless you'd like to fail your O.W.L as well, sit down and return to your exam. That goes for you as well Ms. Granger. There will be no more interruptions." Umbridge declared.

She walked to the door before turning around. "Oh, and Mr. Potter, every second after I leave that you are still in this room will be considered another attempt to cheat by Gryffindor, costing your house a further hundred points."

Harry scampered out, unable to believe that he'd cost Gryffindor a thousand points in seconds. Stunned, he sat in the hallway, barely acknowledging the passage of time, even the constant nagging burn of his scar was ignored as he stared blankly at the wall. Soon, the exam finished, and everybody trickled past him in hushed silence.

"What happened in there Harry?" Neville's quiet voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Si—" Harry's voice trailed off as he realized Neville didn't know of Sirius' innocence. "A friend of mine must've gotten caught by Death Eaters or something. Voldemort had him in the Department of Mysteries, he was being tortured, he was resisting, but I don't know how long he can last."

"How do you know?" Neville asked. "You just screamed out in the middle of the exam."

"I saw flashes of it, like I did with Mr. Weasley." Harry explained. "Sometimes I can see what Voldemort can if he's emotional enough."

"Who was it?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"It was Snuffles." Harry whispered.

Hermione bent down and pulled Harry into a hug. "Oh Harry," She murmured. "I'm sorry."

Harry numbly wrapped his arms around her in return. "I know where he is." He said after a moment. "We can go get him."

"Get who?" A new voice demanded. Harry looked up through his tear-streaked glasses and saw a mane of red hair atop a face of little red dots: Ginny.

"You-Know-You has captured Snuffles." Ron told her. "Harry wants us to go get him."

"What?" Ginny screamed, turning to Harry. She put her hands on her hips, every inch the daughter of Molly Weasley. "You're going to get yourself killed if you go after him. If he was captured by You-Know-Who, he's dead!"

"Ginny." Hermione said warningly, pulling herself from Harry's embrace and rising to her feet.

"Don't 'Ginny' me!" The younger witch howled. "I am not trying to get my family killed on a suicidal rescue mission. My dad was nearly killed because Dumbledore wanted him to protect some damned door to the Department of Mysteries! If he crossed wands with You-Know-Who, Sirius is gone. "

"Sirius?" Neville asked slowly. "As in Sirius Black, I thought he betrayed your parents Harry?"

"No." Harry said quietly. "It was someone else, but he pinned the blame on Sirius."

He slowly got to his feet, and continued in a much stronger voice. "Stay here if you'd like Ginny, you certainly have every right to, but Sirius risked his life to help me last year, and in third year. I can't leave him in the heart of the Ministry to be tortured and eventually killed. This is just like last time, if I could save your dad, then I have to at least try to save Sirius. He's all the family I've got left."

"No he's not." Neville said suddenly. "We're Godbrothers. It's family of a sort."

At Harry's blank stare he continued. "My mum's your Godmother, and vice versa. It's legally considered family; your heirs stand to inherit the Longbottom name if I don't produce any of my own."

"Really?" Harry said in wonder. "I have a brother. . ."

"Sorry that I never told you before." Neville said sheepishly. "Gran only told me about it over the Christmas Hols, and I didn't want to bother you with everything else this year."

Abruptly his face hardened. "We are family, and if you say Sirius Black is innocent, I believe you. I'll come with you to rescue him, like the Potters and Longbottoms of old."

"I'm your family too." Hermione said, squeezing his hand in hers. "And I'll come with you to get your Godfather."

Harry turned to face Ron and Ginny. "You always said we were family Ron." Harry pleaded. "Prove it to me now, when I need you the most."

He locked eyes with his ginger-haired friend, and then sagged as Ron broke his gaze. "Family or not, I won't be there Harry, I can't risk my life for Sirius, not when there's no chance he's alive."

"Ron, please. . ." Harry whispered.

Ron met his eyes quickly, before looking away. "Sorry Harry, Sirius' body isn't worth getting killed over."

Harry's mind was muddled, the constant burn in his scar, and the day's events became too much for him; suddenly he felt nothing but the sudden crunch of bone under his fist, as Ron's nose spurted blood, and he reeled back from the hit. "Then consider our friendship over, Weasley."

"Fuck you Potter!" Ginny screeched. "You've always been Dumbledore's precious Golden Boy! The Chosen One and all that bullshit! After the Chamber, the first thing he did was see if you were okay, and didn't give two shits about little Ginny Weasley!"

Harry turned away, wiping his bloody fist on his robes to clean it. Behind him, Ginny helped Ron to his feet, and both left, presumably headed to the Hospital Wing.

Harry stood straight-backed as his ears tracked their departure. Only after the footsteps had long since faded away, did he allow his guise of confidence to fall.

"Have they always felt that way?" He choked out, barely louder than a whisper. "Do Mr. and Mrs. Weasley feel like that too?"

He hated the thought as soon as he had voiced it. The Weasley's had always been so kind to them, and if Ginny was right. . . He'd repaid them by tearing their family apart. First Percy left, and sided with Fudge, something that never would have been an issue if he hadn't been their friend. Fred and George were targets, until they eventually escaped Umbridge's rule, and now they were without their N.E.W.T.s, in a world without opportunity. Bill had taken a pay cut and a demotion with the goblins, to return and fight in a war he was at the center of. Ron's life had been in danger every year because he was Harry's friend, and yet he had stuck by him. And poor Ginny. . . she'd been possessed by Tom Riddle because of her obsession with him, an event that clearly traumatized her to this day.

Hermione placed a calming hand to his arm. "Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be petrified if they heard what Ginny had said. Don't let her get to you."

"What if they're right?" Harry asked, tears welling up involuntarily. "What if Sirius is dead?"

"Look at me Harry." Hermione said firmly, grabbing his hand. "He's not dead. You'd see it if he was, Voldemort's glee would be overwhelming. We can still get him."

"But R-Ron's right." Harry said firmly, stumbling over his friend's name. "I can't ask you to risk your lives for me. I'll have to go alone."

"The hell you will." Hermione snapped. "You spoke of us being family, and like it or not, family helps each other. I will be there right by your side; even should Voldemort himself try to stop me."

"But. . ." Harry started weakly.

"No buts Harry." Hermione told him. "I wouldn't miss this for the world. I can't let you face him alone. I love you too much for that."

Harry cleared his throat, and wiped his eyes. "I know you do 'Mione. If you want to come that much then, I don't think I'll be able to stop you."

A grin crossed her face. "That's right. Let's get going, we don't have any time to waste."

Harry's face instantly hardened into a mask of strength and calm. "That's right. We can take a broom from the Quidditch Pitch. I know you can't fly one very easily by yourself 'Mione, but you can ride on the back of mine."

"I think you'll find we need two brooms Harry." Neville said. "They can't fit three, and I'm not staying here."

"I'd argue, but I'm pretty sure I'd lose." Harry said wryly, flinching as his scar flared yet again. "Alright, we need two brooms then."

"Wait!" Hermione said urgently. "We can't rush off recklessly. If it's a trap—"

"It's not a trap Hermione!" Harry shouted; rage suddenly welling up from within. "I saw it, Just like I saw Mr. Weasley get attacked, we ha—"

"I know we have to rescue him Harry!" Hermione interrupted. "But we can't head out with a half-cocked plan. We need to contact the Order, and let them know to come to the Department of Mysteries."

"Then tell me how!" Harry screamed. "I've thought about it, and there's no way to get a letter out of this school with Umbridge in charge! She's got this place locked down tighter than Azkaban!"

"I don't know! But give me a minute to figure something out!" Hermione pleaded. "If Voldemort is there, we need the Order's support, we can't face him alone."

"What about the Room of Requirement? Where we held the DA lessons?" Neville suggested.

Harry and Hermione both nodded.

"It can do anything you want to right?" Neville asked. "What if we just ask that it give us a way to get a message to Sirius and see if he's been captured, and if not, send a message to Dumbledore. He's the only one that You-Know-You was ever scared of."

"That's not a bad idea." Hermione admitted. "But how do we get to the Room? Umbridge has it under constant watch."

"That's easy." Neville snorted. "I accidentally created a secret passage to the Room a few months ago after the last DA meeting."

"What!" Hermione cried. "How? Why didn't you tell us?"

"It was when Umbridge first showed up." Neville explained. "My only thought was 'Get me out of here!' I was in the back of the Room, and one of the bookcases swung open to reveal a set of stairs. I followed them and it led to a doorway behind the portrait of Arthur and Merlin in the common room. I never told anybody because it was all but useless. We couldn't bring everybody into Gryffindor Tower, and there are traitors in every house."

"We'll need to split up then." Harry said decisively. "Neville, we need you to deal with Umbridge. Follow her around and wait for an opening, hit her with the strongest stunner you can muster. Knock her out, body-bind her, triple-silence her, disillusion her, and then stuff her in Myrtle's bathroom. That will buy us plenty of time for Hermione to write and send these letters, and get ready to leave. I'm going to follow up on a second option to get the word out. Use your DA coin to send messages to me; you should be able to send simple phrases that aren't too long."

"What are you going to be doing?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"I just told you," Harry grinned. "I'm following up on another option."

*****HP: WAW*****

Harry soon stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He'd avoided revealing his second plan, because he wasn't sure if it would work. But there was only one thing he knew that could get a message to an Order member quickly enough to make a difference.

Raising his wand, he softly whispered. "Point me." The wand spun around on his outstretched palm, before pointing east. Harry followed the directions from the wand; luckily the ground of the Forest was fairly downtrodden in this sector. The presence of the centaurs kept the undergrowth at bay.

He quickly reached his destination in the heart of Forest. Kneeling down onto the soft ground, he called out. "Help me. You're my best hope at saving my Godfather. I need to get this letter to Arthur Weasley at the Burrow as fast as possible."

Just as he'd hoped, the dark clearing was suddenly illuminated by a brilliant swathe of light from behind a massive tree. Slowly, an old Ford Anglia rolled into view, its paint chipped, and scratched; years of living in the Forest had clearly taken its toll. Harry could only hope that the enchantments held out for the three years since he'd seen it last.

"Will you help me?" Harry asked quietly. He reached into pocket of his robes and pulled out the letter he'd written.

The car honked its horn and reversed back into the Forest.

"Wait!" Harry called out. "There are instructions in here for Mr. Weasley to withdraw the money from my vault to get you fixed up properly. You'll be restored to as good as new."

The horn honked again, but it sounded less aggressive than before. "I promise." Harry said, holding the letter out. "Just carry this one letter, and then you're free to do as you please for the rest of your existence."

Finally, the car rolled back into view, obligingly lifting a windshield wiper. Harry tucked the letter underneath it, before patting the Ford's hood. "Thank you." He said quietly. "You don't know what this means to me."

The car's door opened, before swinging back and forth, in a manner reminiscent of the "come hither" gesture. Reluctantly, Harry crawled into the driver's seat.

The car suddenly took off, becoming airborne over the Forest. It hurtled over the treetops, headed towards Hogwarts.

"What are you doing?" Harry cried, banging on the door of the car. "I need you to go to the Burrow!"

The old Anglia ignored him, and instead flew directly into the side of the ancient castle at full speed.

Harry was thrown clear of the wreck, landing on his back in a dark room. The Anglia honked twice belligerently, before revving out of the newly created hole, and disappearing above the clouds. Harry closed his eyes as he prayed against all hope that the Ford would fulfill his request.

Only to painfully open them again, as an all-too familiar voice drawled behind him. "Mr. Potter, what is the meaning of you crash-landing in my private office?"

Snape; of all the people's offices to land into. . .

Harry groaned, as he gingerly rolled off of the table he'd been dumped onto.

"It wasn't intentional Snape." He groaned. "That damned car dropped me here as you can damned well see."

"Obviously. But that doesn't excuse you from interrupting the delicate proceedings of several of my potions. I'll have thirty points from Gryffindor." Snape said vehemently.

"Not like it fucking matters." Harry grunted, pulling himself up off of the floor to a standing position. "Umbridge took over a thousand points from us today."

Snape's eyes widened. "What did you do to her Potter? That is further than anyone has dared to tread."

"I had a vision from Voldemort during my O.W.L." Harry started.

"Do not say the Dark Lord's name!" Snape hissed out, clamping his hand over his left forearm. "As I'm sure Dumbledore has seen fit to tell you, I've been branded with the Dark Mark. He doesn't like us to use his full name. He went so far as to put a curse in the Mark that causes it to burn should it be said within a certain radius."

His black eyes glinted in the dim light of the dungeons as he leaned forward. "You said you had a vision? Tell me, in great detail. Don't leave anything out."

"Err. . . I was in the History O.W.L." Harry said hesitantly. "I was drifting in and out, unable to focus on the exam. My eyes closed against my will, and I was in his mind. He's got Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, torturing him, trying to get Sirius to get him something; something that Vold—that You-Know-Who couldn't touch."

"Interesting." Snape said, his voice surprisingly lacking his trademark sarcasm. "What methods did he use? Try to remember everything you saw."

"Err." Harry thought back to the vision burned in his memory. "He used the Cruciatus at first. Then he used a flame whip, before healing Sirius, and then promising to get creative." Harry shuddered. "That can't be good. Can it?"

Snape straightened abruptly. "That certainly sounds like the Dark Lord's methods." He admitted. "Very well, I shall contact the Order at once. I believe that this vision may in fact be genuine. But whatever else should happen. . ."

Harry looked up expectantly.

"Stay here Potter. Do not under any circumstances leave Hogwarts' grounds." Snape warned. "Umbridge will be doing everything in her power to get you expelled from the school; do not give her any more reason. You could be carted off to Azkaban on trumped up charges if she has her way."

Harry seethed inwardly. If that git thought he'd stay while Voldemort was torturing Sirius, he had another thing coming.

"Potter, return to Gryffindor Tower at once." Snape ordered, interrupting his musings. "I will summon you one hour before curfew to discuss what the Order has decided. If anybody asks, you are once again taking remedial potions."

With what was clearly a dismissal, Harry departed the office in silence. At least the Order would be contacted, but now Harry knew he had to get off to the Ministry before the Order arrived. If he got there late, they'd simply send him back. He had a sinking feeling that Sirius wouldn't be able to be saved without him being there.

His pocket burned, and he drew the Galleon from his pocket. Silver letters spelled out a simple phrase. Mission Accomplished. N.L.

A second later it burned again. Sorry Harry. I talked to Kreacher and. the message faded and was replaced a moment later. He said that Sirius left with his cousins. H.G.

To Harry this only confirmed everything. Sirius' cousins were the dreaded Black sisters: Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. Both unquestionably were sided with Voldemort. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that Voldemort was torturing Sirius at that very moment. A powerful twinge in his scar cemented his resolve.

He drew his wand and pressed it to the Galleon, focusing on a single phrase. Mine's done. Voldemort has him. H.P. He watched the letters fade away, and repeated the process. Head to the lawn. Time to go. H.P.

He took off at a jog towards the Great Hall.

*****HP: WAW*****

Harry met the others on the lawn just minutes later. "Let's go." Harry said. "Snape found out about the vision, and he thinks it's real. We don't have much time left."

Hermione smiled. "I always knew you were hiding a brain in there Harry. I hadn't even thought of Snape, but he's an Order member. Of course he's got a way to contact them!"

"Not the time." Harry said crossly. "Let's get going."

The trio set off on a run towards the pitch, surprisingly, it was Neville who led the pack, with other two barely keeping pace. "I've been running ever since the DA started." He explained as they ran. While Harry and Hermione were panting and breathing heavily after only a few minutes, Neville's breathing was even, and his pace steady. "I felt it was a good way to help handle the Death Eater's, most of them can only dodge one or two spells before they run out of energy. The quicker I am on my feet, the longer I can last."

"Well keep it up Nev." Harry said between pants. "It's certainly helping out here."

They had passed through the massive doors in the Great Hall and were sprinting across the lawn. Dozens of students were already outside, enjoying the summer day after a long week of testing was finally over.

They passed a group of Gryffindors that were whispering harshly amongst themselves, but quickly silenced as Harry and the others approached. Fingers were pointed, and remarks made, but none of the trio could catch what was being said.

Things were quite different as they passed a gang of seventh year Slytherins. "Potter!" One of them shouted. "Come join us! Have a Butterbeer, you've all but given us the House Cup. Cheers!"

Harry ignored them, and put on a burst of speed he didn't know he had. Taunts and jeers were aimed his way as they traveled the long expanse of greenery, but he barely heard them. Every fiber of his being was focused on reaching the shed on the outside of the Quidditch pitch.

At last, they arrived at the broom shed behind the pitch, coming to a stop beside the Forbidden Forest. Neville tried the door, before swearing under his breath. "Harry! It's locked, what do we do now?"

Hermione stepped forward confidently. "Alohomora!" The pale jet of light hit the knob. It glowed slightly, but remained stubbornly locked.

"Damn. Hooch must've bewitched the lock. I can't get through." Hermione muttered, clearly frustrated.

"You could always try the older unlocking spell." A light airy voice prompted.

Harry and Neville whirled around, wands pointed at the unexpected visitor. Stepping out from behind a large tree was Luna Lovegood.

"The wand movement is the same, and its incantation is Open Sesame." The girl continued. "It's a little crude, but it gets the job done."

Hermione stared at Luna for a moment before complying. Tracing the reverse "S" in the air with her wand, she declared: "Open Sesame!"

The hinges of the door exploded outward, reducing the wooden door to little more than firewood. All four members of the group were peppered with hot iron, and slender shards of wood, opening up light gashes on their exposed faces and hands.

Harry touched a hand to the side of his face, and wasn't surprised to see it come back with a light coating of blood; sighing he wiped it off on the grass at his feet.

Hermione moved to berate the younger girl, but Harry interrupted her. "It doesn't matter Hermione. The door is open, so we can get the brooms to go and rescue Sirius now."

Hermione sighed, deflated. "I know, let's go."

"Sirius?" Luna asked in wonder. "Do you mean Stubby Boardman?"

She shrugged her robes off, revealing her naked chest beneath.

"I have a mole that looks just like him!" She twisted, exposing her side, letting it catch what little light was left in the day. "See? If I help you rescue him, do you think he'll sign it?"

Harry and Neville both stared open-mouthed, unable to formulate a reply.

Hermione harrumphed. "Honestly boys." She said smacking both of them on the shoulder. "Luna. Put your robes back on, I'm sure Siri—Stubby will be happy to sign something for you, but we need to get to London now! We don't have time for any more distractions!"

"London? Then why are you at the Quidditch pitch?" Luna asked, picking her robe up from the grass, and pulling it on.

With Luna's chest now hidden, Harry could once again focus on the goal. "We need to get to the Ministry, and the school brooms are the fastest method of transport we have available." His voice trailed off as he realized something. "We could actually just take them to Hogsmeade. I doubt Umbitch thought to shut down the Three Broomsticks' Floo."

"Oooh!" Luna squealed. "If we take the Floo, can we stop by the Minister's Office on the way back? Daddy says they raise Heliopaths there, to protect evidence of Fudge's corruption."

"Err. . . Sure?" Harry said, deciding not to care about Luna's creatures, and instead worry about Sirius.

"Yay!" Luna cried, throwing her arms around Harry. "Daddy's going to be so jealous that I get to pet a Heliopath! Ooh! I'll bet it just tickles."

Harry stood awkwardly as she released him. "Anyway, Harry, everybody knows not to fly brooms at night. The Swoop-Legged Crythax prey on wood, and they only come out in the dark. We're much better off riding one of those things instead."

Harry followed her pointing finger, she was pointing at one of Hagrid's Thestrals. It had apparently emerged from the woods sometime after they had arrived, and was licking their blood off of the grass. As Harry scanned the Forest, he saw the outlines of several more of the skeletal steeds standing under the cover of darkness, drawn to the scent of blood.

"Alright then, I guess we can try it." Harry said; wincing as his scar twinged. "Hagrid did say they have a great sense of direction. They can't be much slower than the school brooms anyway."

Cautiously he approached the nearest Thestral. "Can you understand me?" He asked, feeling foolish as he did so.

To his surprise, the great beast slowly lowered its silky head, in what was unquestionably a nod.

"Well then, I guess that settles that." Harry muttered. He wound his hand tightly into the mane of the Thestral, placed a foot on a large rock lying nearby and scrambled clumsily onto the horse's back.

He then looked around at the others. Neville had heaved himself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing the other leg over the creature's back. Luna was already in place, sitting side-saddle while adjusting her robes as though she did this every day. Hermione was still standing motionless on the spot, staring open-mouthed at the perceived empty space in front of her.

"What?" Harry asked.

"How am I supposed to get on?" Hermione said faintly. "When I can't even see them?"

"Oh, it's easy," Luna said, sliding obligingly from her Thestral and marching over to her. "Come here. . ."

She pulled Hermione over to the other Thestrals standing around, and easily helped her mount the closest one.

She looked extremely nervous as Luna gave her instructions on gripping the Thestral's mane, before patting her on the shoulder and returning to her own steed.

"Everybody ready then?" Harry called out looking around.

At the answering nods, he looked down at the back of his Thestral's glossy black head and swallowed.

"Alright boy," Harry said confidently. "We need to get to Hogsmeade as fast as possible. Will you take us?"

For a moment Harry's Thestral did nothing at all; then, with a sweeping movement that nearly unseated him, the wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast and so steeply that Harry had to clench his arms and legs tightly around the Thestral's neck to avoid sliding backwards over its bony rump. He closed his eyes and pressed his face down into the horse's silky mane as they burst through the topmost branches of the trees and soared out into a blood-red sunset.

In a second, they were over the Hogwarts grounds. A few moments later, they were right above Hogsmeade. Harry tugged on the Thestral's mane, and swung him to a steep descent onto the streets of Hogsmeade. Throwing himself off of the Thestral before it even fully landed, Harry sprinted into the Three Broomsticks, the others close behind him.

"Accio Floo Powder!" Harry shouted as soon as he was through the door. A small clay pot flew towards him, and with reflexes honed through years of Seeking, Harry snagged it out of the air. He pulled out a pinch, before tossing the pot to Hermione.

Hurling his powder into the warm blaze, Harry roared out his destination. "Ministry of Magic!" The flames flickered green, and he leapt into the emerald fire.

After only a few seconds, he was thrown backwards out of the fire, and it flashed black before suddenly extinguishing. "What!" Harry cried out. "What happened?"

Luna came up behind him. "Floos do that when they've been locked down from the other side Harry." She said surprisingly lucidly. "Something at the Ministry must be interfering with our signal."

Harry turned to look at her. "It's Voldemort! It has to be! He's the only one that would cut off remote access to the Ministry; the working day isn't over yet! He has Sirius!"

Not even waiting for a response, Harry hurtled out the door, vaulting over a stunned Rosmerta, and remounting his Thestral, returning to the sky just seconds later.

Twilight soon fell: the sky was turning to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars, and soon only the lights of Muggle towns gave them any clue of how far from the ground they were, or how very fast they were travelling. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around his horse's neck as he willed it to go even faster. How much time had elapsed since he had seen Sirius lying on the Department of Mysteries floor? How much longer would Sirius be able to resist Voldemort? All Harry knew for sure was that his godfather had neither done as Voldemort wanted, nor died, for he was convinced that either outcome would have caused him to feel Voldemort's jubilation or fury course through his own body, making his scar sear as painfully as it had on the night Mr. Weasley was attacked.

On they flew through the gathering darkness; Harry's face felt stiff and cold, his legs numb from gripping the Thestral's sides so tightly, but he did not dare shift his position lest he slip. . . he was deaf from the thundering rush of air in his ears, and his mouth was dry and frozen from the cold night wind. He had lost all sense of how far they had come; all his faith was in the beast beneath him, still streaking purposefully through the night, barely flapping its wings as it sped ever onwards.

Thoughts unbidden rose to his mind. Fear that they would be too late, that Sirius would be . . . "No." Harry said aloud, his voice lost to the wind. "He's still alive, he's still fighting! I can feel it, if Voldemort decides that Sirius isn't going to give him the information. . . I'd know." The words though morbid, were strangely comforting once said. As if his thoughts lost all their power once they were sucked away into the icy night.

Harry's stomach gave a jolt; the Thestral's head was suddenly pointing towards the ground and he actually slid forwards a few inches along its neck. They were descending at last. . . he thought he heard a shriek behind him and twisted around dangerously, but could see no sign of a falling body. . . presumably they had all received a shock from the change of direction, just as he had.

Quite suddenly, it seemed, they were hurtling towards the pavement; Harry gripped the Thestral with every last ounce of his strength, braced for a sudden impact, but the horse touched the dark ground as lightly as a shadow and Harry slid from its back, looking around at the street where the overflowing skip still stood a short way from the vandalized telephone box, both drained of color in the flat orange glare of the streetlights.

Neville landed next to him, falling off of his Thestral as he attempted to dismount it.

Hermione and Luna touched down on either side of him: both slid off their mounts a little more gracefully than Neville, though with similar expressions of relief at being back on firm ground.

"Where do we go from here, then?" She asked Harry in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather interesting day-trip.

"Over here," he said. He gave his Thestral a quick, grateful pat, then led the way quickly to the battered telephone box and opened the door. "Come on!" he urged the others, as they hesitated.

Hermione, Neville and Luna squashed themselves into the tight space; Harry took one glance back at the Thestrals, now foraging for scraps of rotten food inside the skip, and then forced his way into the box after Luna.

"Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six, two, four, four, two!" He said.

Neville did so, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial; as it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Hermione Granger," Harry said very quickly, "Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood. . . we're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you," The cool female voice said. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Four badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to Harry over Luna's head; he glanced at the topmost one, Harry Potter, Rescue Mission.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" Harry said loudly, as his scar gave another throb. "Now can we move?"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows; the scavenging Thestrals were sliding out of sight; blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," Came the woman's voice, as the lift came to a halt.

The door of the telephone box burst open; Harry toppled out of it, closely followed by Neville and Luna.

"Come on," said Harry quietly and the four of them sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain towards the desk where the watch wizard who had weighed Harry's wand had sat, and which was now deserted.

Harry felt sure there ought to be a security person there, he was sure their absence was an ominous sign, and his sense of foreboding only increased as they passed through the golden gates to the lifts. He pressed the nearest 'down' button and a lift fell into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a creak and they dashed inside.

Harry stabbed at the number nine button with a finger; they were off, soon the lift halted, the cool female voice said, "Department of Mysteries," and the grilles slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving out but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

Harry turned towards the plain black door. After months and months of dreaming about it, he was here at last.

"Let's go," He whispered, and he led the way down the corridor, Luna right behind him, gazing around with her mouth slightly open.

Harry turned to face the door and walked forwards. . . just as it had in his dream, it swung open and he marched over the threshold, the others at his heels.

They were standing in a large, circular room. Everything within was pitch black, even the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

"Someone shut the door," Harry muttered.

He regretted giving this order the moment Neville had obeyed it. Without the long chink of light from the torch lit corridor behind them, the place became so dark that for a moment the only things they could see were the sconces of shivering blue flames on the walls and their ghostly reflections in the floor. In his dream, Harry had always walked purposefully across this room to the door immediately opposite the entrance and walked on. But there were around a dozen doors here. Just as he was gazing ahead at the doors opposite him, trying to decide which door was the right one, there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as though frightened the floor might move, too, but it did not. For a few seconds, the blue flames around them were blurred to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around; then, quite as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

Harry's eyes had blue streaks burned into them; it was all he could see.

"What was that about?" Neville whispered fearfully.

"I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in through," Hermione said knowingly.

Harry realized at once she was right: he could no sooner identify the exit door than locate an ant on the jet-black floor; and the door through which they needed to proceed could be any one of the dozen surrounding them.

"How are we going to leave?" Neville asked uncomfortably.

"Well, that doesn't matter now," Harry reminded him forcefully, blinking to try to erase the blue lines from his vision, and clutching his wand tighter than ever, "We won't need to get out till we've found Sirius—"

"Don't go calling for him, though!" Hermione said urgently; but Harry had never needed her advice less, his instinct was to keep as quiet as possible.

"Where do we go, then, Harry?" Luna asked.

"I don't—" Harry began. He swallowed. "In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room—that's this one—and then I went through another door into a room that kind of. . . glitters. We should try a few doors," He said hastily, "I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon."

He marched straight at the door now facing him, the others following close behind him, set his left hand against its cool, shining surface, raised his wand, ready to strike the moment it opened, and pushed.

It swung open easily.

This room was much larger than the entranceway. It was lit, albeit rather dimly, by the same blue candles that occupied the entrance room. The center of the rectangular room was sunken into the floor, forming a massive stone pit, some twenty feet deep. The door had led them onto the topmost tier of the steep stone benches that circled the pit. They descended on steep stairs at points, reminiscent of the courtroom in which Harry had been tried the previous summer. The flat base of the pit was barren, save for a rocky archway. It was so ancient, so cracked and desolate that Harry was amazed the thing was still standing. It jutted out from the floor, the only landmark of the room. Despite the lack of a supporting wall, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that it was more a doorway than an arch. As he watched, the tattered black veil that hung from the archway fluttered as if struck by a breeze or the lightest touch.

"Who's there?" Harry said, carefully descending the steep stairs. There was no answer, but the veil suddenly fluttered more violently as if in response to his voice.

"Careful!" Hermione whispered.

Harry cautiously walked down the stairs, one by one until the stairs ended at the flat stone base of the sunken pit. The echoes of his footsteps were deafening as he slowly walked towards the dais. The crumbling archway was much larger than it had seemed when he was looking down at it from the top of the pit. Still, the veil swayed back and forth, as if somebody had just passed through it.

"Sirius, are you in here?" Harry spoke again, but more quietly now that he was nearer.

He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping his wand very tightly, he edged around the dais, but there was nobody there; all that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil.

"Let's go," Hermione called from halfway up the stone steps. "This isn't right, Harry, come on, let's go."

She sounded scared, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was.

The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up onto the dais and walk through it.

"Harry, let's go, OK?" Hermione said more forcefully this time.

"OK." He said, but did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whisperings, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil.

"What are you saying?" He said, very loudly, so that his words echoed all around the stone benches.

"Nobody's talking, Harry!" Hermione insisted, now moving over to him.

"Can't anyone else hear it?" Harry demanded, the whispering and murmuring becoming louder in the background; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais.

"I can hear them too," Luna breathed, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. "There are people in there!"

"What do you mean, 'in there'?" Hermione demanded, jumping down from the bottom step and sounding much angrier than the occasion warranted, "There isn't any 'in there', it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there. Harry, stop it, come away—"

She grabbed his arm and pulled, but he resisted.

"Harry, we are supposed to be here for Sirius!" She said in a strained, high-pitched voice.

"Sirius," Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerized, at the hypnotic sight of the continuously swaying veil. "Yeah. . ."

Something finally slid back into place in his brain; Sirius, captured, bound and tortured, and he was staring at this archway. . .

He took several paces back from the dais and wrenched his eyes from the veil.

"Let's go," He said.

"That's what I've been trying to—well, come on, then!" Hermione said, and she led the way back around the dais, and marched firmly back to the lowest stone bench, before she clambered all the way back up to the door.

"What do you really think that arch was?" Harry asked Hermione as they returned to the dark circular room.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it looks very dangerous," She said firmly, as the others shuffled in behind them.

"Wait!" Hermione said sharply, as Luna made to close the door of the veil room behind them. "Flagrate!"

She drew with her wand in midair and a fiery "X" appeared on the door. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them than there was a great rumbling, and once again the wall began to revolve very fast, but now there was a great red-gold blur in amongst the faint blue and, when all became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing the door they had already tried.

"Good thinking," said Harry. "OK, let's try this one—"

Once more, the wall spun and became still again. Harry approached another door at random and pushed.

"This is it!"

He knew it at once by the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light, a long dark hallway lit by the bluebell lamps, and at the end… a doorway glowing with an inner light.

"He's this way!"

Harry's heart was pumping frantically now that he knew they were on the right track; he led the way down the narrow space between the lines of desks, heading, as he had done in his dream, for the source of the light.

"This is it," Harry said again, and his heart was now pumping so hard and fast he felt that it would interfere with his speech, "It's through here—"

He glanced around at them all; they had their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious. He looked back at the door and pushed. The door swung open.

They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

Harry edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. He could not hear anything or see the slightest sign of movement.

"You said it was row ninety-seven right?" Hermione whispered.

"Yeah," Harry breathed, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles glimmered the silver number fifty-three.

"We need to go right, I think," Hermione whispered, squinting to the next row. "Yes. . . that's fifty-four. . ."

"Keep your wands ready," Harry said softly.

They passed row eighty-four. . .eighty-five. . .Harry was listening hard for the slightest sound of movement, but Sirius might be gagged now, or else unconscious. . .or. . . he might already be dead. . .

"Ninety-seven!" Hermione whispered, interrupting his train of thought.

They stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there.

"He's right down at the end," Harry said. "You can't see it properly from here."

And he led them between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as they passed.

"He should be near here," Harry whispered, convinced that every step was going to bring the ragged form of Sirius into view on the darkened floor. "Anywhere here. . . really close. . ."

"Harry?" Hermione said tentatively, but he did not want to respond.

"Somewhere about. . . here. . ." He said.

They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight, there was nobody there.

The room was empty, an echoing silence, that only seemed amplified by the undisturbed dust coating the floor and walls.

"He might be. . ." Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the next alley. "Or maybe. . ." He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

"Harry?" Hermione said again.

"What?" he snarled.

"I. . . I don't think Sirius is here."

Nobody spoke. Harry did not want to look at any of them. He felt sick. He did not understand why Sirius was not here. He had to be here. This was where he, Harry, had seen him. . .

He ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. Empty aisle after empty aisle flickered past. He ran the other way, back past his staring companions. There was no sign of Sirius anywhere, nor any hint of a struggle.

Harry dropped to his knees, and slammed his fist into the dusty floor. "He has to be here." He whispered, tears streaming down his face. "Even Snape agreed."

He pounded the floor until his fist came back stained, knuckles ruddy with his own blood. He barely noticed the burn as the years of dirt and dust staunched the flow of blood and clotted around his fist.

The pile of standing water grew as he wept. Sirius was gone, captured by his cousins, and was undoubtedly being tortured as he sat there helpless in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione had been right: it was a trap. And he'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

"Harry?" Neville called, breaking his reverie.

"What?" He choked out, wiping the tears from his eyes, and cleaning his glasses.

He did not want to hear what he had to say; did not want to hear Neville tell him he had been stupid or suggest that they ought to go back to Hogwarts, but the heat was rising in his face and he felt as though he would like to skulk down here in the darkness for a long while before facing the brightness of the Atrium above and the others' accusing stares. . .

"Have you seen this?" Neville said.

"What?" Harry repeated, but eagerly this time—it had to be a sign that Sirius had been there, a clue. He strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven, but found nothing except Neville staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelf.

"What?" Harry said again, glumly.

"It's—it's got your name on it," Neville explained pointing.

Harry moved a little closer. . .

"My name?" Harry said blankly.

He stepped forwards. The ball that Neville pointed at was just out of his sight. He gingerly placed his foot on one of the metal shelves, and pulled himself level with orb. The sphere was just like the others, dusty and filled with a swirling mist.

"Not the sphere." Neville said. "Look at the shelf beneath it."

Harry glanced at it. In spidery writing that was somehow familiar to him, was a date written some sixteen years previously, and below that:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

Dark Lord

And (?)Harry Potter

Harry stared at it.

"What is it?" Neville asked, sounding unnerved. "What's your name doing down here?"

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it," Hermione said sharply, as he stretched out his hand.

"Why shouldn't I?" He said. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

"Don't Harry," Luna said suddenly. "It's a prophecy sphere. If you touch it, the Hobdewots can control your fate."

"It's got my name on it," Harry said. "I can't leave it."

And feeling slightly reckless, he closed his fingers around the dusty ball's surface. Harry lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.

The others moved in closer around Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it free of the clogging dust.

Recklessly, Harry cocked his arm back, and moved to throw it.

Neville's hand closed around his wrist, saving the orb from destruction, and just then, from right behind them, a drawling voice spoke.

"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slow, and give that to me."

A/N: Updated and edited 4/22/2017