The Echo of Prophecies and the Wrath of Fire

The Echo of Prophecies and the Wrath of Fire

They all appeared in the Ministry of Magic, right in the vast entrance hall where the fireplaces rose in endless rows. This time, however, it did not teem with employees or travelers emerging wrapped in green flames. A silence as dense as a fog filled the air, sending a shiver under their skin. Even the faintest echo of their steps sounded like an omen.

"Harry Potter, sir, does Dobby need to accompany you... to make sure you're not in danger?" Dobby asked in a whisper that trembled in the gloom.

"No, Dobby. You can go back. We'll use the Floo Network if we have to return," Harry replied in a low but steady voice, knowing that it would break the elf's heart to see him at risk.

Dobby blinked, as if he were about to protest, but when he met Harry's serious gaze, he lowered his head. With a soft snap, he vanished.

The silence closed in around them once more. They all looked at each other, sharing the unspoken understanding that, from that point on, there would be no turning back. One by one, they drew their wands. In their other hands, they gripped the daggers Einar had taught them to forge, their blades glinting in the dim light. Fred and George each held two ice daggers: one created by Einar—perfect and lethal—and the other of their own making, less refined in its polish but no less sharp.

"Let's go. I think I remember the way from the last time I was here," Harry said, his face tense. He lifted his wand as if the whole weight of destiny rested on it. No one argued. They all nodded and headed for the lifts.

As they descended, Luna raised her wand in an elegant gesture. She murmured an incantation so softly it was almost inaudible, but the effect was immediate. Seven wolves emerged from a circle of light: three wreathed in flames crackling with radiant heat, and four spectral, white and silent. At her side, Ginny did the same, and three wolves with reddish fur appeared to flank them.

"Well... at least I feel a bit safer," Fred joked, his voice trembling as one of the wolves brushed against his leg like a giant dog.

"Should I have brought my sword?" George asked.

"Probably, but for now... this will do," Fred replied, running a finger along the icy edge of one of his daggers.

The lift arrived with a metallic groan. The door opened onto a dark corridor. They advanced cautiously, each step sounding like a warning. At the far end, a black door with no handle awaited them. They pushed it open, and the circular chamber swallowed them in a slow, sinister turn: dozens of identical doors rotated around them as if mocking their memory.

"The room is designed so no one remembers which door leads where," Luna said in a tone that chilled the air even further.

"And now?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione lifted her wand decisively. "The clairvoyance spell." A blue glow was born in her palm, stretching across the floor in a luminous trail that marked a path.

They walked in single file behind the light. They crossed identical doors without daring to look around until the trail led them to a final threshold and vanished.

"Why did it stop?" Fred murmured.

"Because we've reached the point I could see. I don't know what lies beyond," Hermione said, her voice tight.

Harry took a deep breath. He pressed his wand to his chest and thought of Sirius, but his mind couldn't fix his image clearly. Instead, a flicker, like a whisper, called to him from somewhere nearby. He invoked his own clairvoyance. A pale light emerged from his palm and crept through the shadows until it stopped before a passageway that looked no different from the rest.

"This way," he said, a knot tightening in his throat.

They lined up behind him. They advanced between colossal shelves crammed with glass spheres, until the clairvoyance faded with a faint spark. They had arrived.

Harry stopped in front of a sphere resting on a pedestal of burnished metal. The silence around it was absolute. He leaned in to read the plaque:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. regarding the I.

Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter.

Something inside him seemed to call to it, an invisible pull that tightened every nerve.

Hermione stepped forward. "Harry... Don't touch it. It could be a trap," she said, her voice breaking.

He froze with his hand outstretched, then pulled it back with a shudder.

"What is it?" he asked in a thin voice.

"A prophecy," Hermione replied, her eyes locked on the glass.

Luna drew closer, fascinated. "I've never seen one up close."

Fred looked around with a frown. "Is this what they've been guarding all this time?"

Harry swallowed hard. The aisle was silent, but every shadow seemed to watch them. He stepped back to scan the shelves and felt a chill run through him. No sign of Sirius. Only the echo of his own breathing.

Suddenly, one of Luna's fire wolves lifted its head. Its roar boomed like thunder. It shot off toward a nearby intersection. A heartbeat later, the explosion lit the entire aisle in an orange flash. The tremor shook the shelves, and several spheres crashed to the floor in a shower of splintered glass.

"Enemies!" Ginny shouted, as a second fire wolf appeared beside Luna.

The shadows began to move. Hooded figures in dark cloaks with wands raised emerged between the shelves. Another spectral wolf leapt at them, knocking one attacker to the ground with a guttural snarl.

Fred and George raised their hands. Their ice daggers lifted off the floor with a sharp tremor, hovering around them like predators. With a flick, Fred sent the first dagger flying: the blade sliced through the air and buried itself in the arm of a Death Eater trying to cast a spell. A scream tore through the silence.

The other twin did the same, and his dagger traced a deadly arc that grazed another enemy's throat, leaving a line of frost in its wake. At that very instant, Harry raised his wand as a red bolt grazed his cheek. His counter-curse shot out with relentless force, slamming a Death Eater against the shelves.

The flaming wolves charged in a stampede, exploding in bursts of fire that lit up the tense faces of his allies. A second blast shook the floor, tearing a scream of pain from one of the hooded attackers.

Ginny conjured a circle of fire that surrounded two enemies, while Luna pointed her wand, and a spectral wolf barreled through another, dropping him like a rag doll.

Fred extended his hand, and his ice daggers floated back to his side, spinning in readiness for the next strike. George mirrored him, hurling one of his blades telekinetically at an enemy who tried to flee. The blade hissed through the air before burying itself in his back.

In the midst of the chaos, Harry moved like lightning, dodging curses and returning spells with lethal precision. Each step was a dance of fire, ice, and steel. And as the explosions kept erupting, he understood that this place held not only prophecies…but the threat of a battle far greater than any they had ever imagined.

The others fought with the same perfect coordination, almost superhuman. Even though the dark wizards outnumbered them, they responded with a ferocity that made even the most confident Death Eaters recoil. Their spells intertwined with the wolves' fire blasts and the daggers' icy detonations.

Fred and George twisted their wrists with determination. Their ice daggers seemed like living creatures: they flew through the air in impossible trajectories, driven by the telekinesis they had perfected thanks to Einar's teachings. One dagger embedded itself in a Death Eater's arm, freezing his muscles in an instant. Another pierced the thigh of a second attacker before snapping free again, leaving a trail of frost and cries of agony.

"They don't have the prophecy!" a female voice screamed, thick with rage, as spells of every color crossed the air.

"Take one hostage!" another voice shouted. Immediately, half a dozen curses targeted Luna, who stood firm at the center of her wolves. Around her, new flaming wolves emerged one after another, racing toward the enemies and detonating in explosions impossible to contain. Several water spells intertwined to dampen the blasts, but even so, three Death Eaters were hurled into the shelves.

The ground began to tremble under Harry's feet as, all around him, the prophecies fell from the racks like a rain of glass, shattering on the stone floor in a deafening clamor. Amid the chaos, Harry lifted his wand and started shouting orders:

"Retreat! We regroup by the exit!"

They forced their way through, hurling every curse, counter-curse, and incantation they had ever learned—from the simplest charms of their first year to the wildest arts Einar had taught them. And still, the enemies kept multiplying without end.

Twenty had already joined the battle. Then another ten stormed in through the passages. Among them, a woman with a deranged grin raised her wand, and a torrent of spells erupted.

Neville didn't hesitate. He charged forward and hurled his dagger telekinetically straight for the woman's chest. But with a flick of her wrist, she deflected it as if it were nothing but a twig.

"Don't split up!" Hermione screamed, her voice hoarse from the effort. They tried to leave the hall, but every time they moved, another enemy stepped in their way.

Harry realized that if they stayed, they'd take one of his friends hostage. And by what they'd heard, it was clear they had come to seize his prophecy.

"This way!" he shouted, leading them out of the Hall of Prophecy. They stumbled forward, dodging the last curses, until they reached the circular room again.

The moment they stepped inside, the chamber began to spin once more, the doors shifting before their eyes. Hermione sucked in a shaky breath, her pulse hammering.

"Give us an exit," she murmured, her voice trembling. She raised her wand. "Clairvoyance!"

The spell traced a new blue path toward one of the doors. Without thinking, they rushed through it.

But as soon as they crossed the threshold, a chill slid down their spines. They were back in the room of the great arch and the rippling veil. Harry felt something brush against his mind, like a whisper coming from the other side.

Ginny froze, her face pale. "No… I don't want to go near that," she whispered.

They had no time to regroup. A door burst open, and more Death Eaters poured in, wands raised. A new roar of war made the air quake.

Harry struck his chest twice, closing his eyes.

From the folds of his robe, Viir, the little black dragon, leapt forward. He rose up, wings spread, crest bristling. He opened his jaws, and a torrent of green fire blasted forth like a cannon. The flames struck two Death Eaters, who fell to the floor shrieking in agony as their robes burned with a sinister crackle.

"DIIL QOTH ZAAM!" Viir shrieked, his tiny voice transformed into a thunderclap.

A portal cracked open in the ground with the groan of splitting stone. Hundreds of skeletal arms emerged first, then skulls, as skeletons in rusted armor rose as if waking from a thousand-year sleep.

"By Merlin…" Hermione whispered, frozen for a second.

The Death Eaters turned, eyes wide. The woman, now fully visible, raised her wand in fury: Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Avada Kedavra!" she screamed, hurling the curse at Viir.

The dragon opened his jaws. The green bolt vanished down his throat. A second later, Viir spat it out with contempt: the curse shot across the room and struck a Death Eater behind her, dropping him lifeless without a sound.

Neville roared, charging into the fight. A Death Eater managed to snap his wand with a sharp strike. Neville barely glanced at the fragments, tossed them aside, and clenched his fists. Two spectral swords burst from his magic, glowing with vibrant blue light. Without hesitation, he charged straight ahead.

"It's time for the show to begin!" Fred shouted, a wild gleam in his eyes. He raised his wand toward the ceiling, then pointed it at the floor.

A whirlwind of frost erupted with a polar roar. The temperature plummeted in an instant, covering the floor with a thick crust of ice. Several Death Eaters screamed as the cold burned their skin.

"Take cover!" George shouted, copying the motion.

A blast of fire engulfed the center of the room. In the blink of an eye, they went from deadly cold to scorching heat. The clash of temperatures unleashed a blast of wind that knocked the nearest enemies off their feet.

The skeletons kept pouring out without end, brandishing rusted swords and spears.

Hermione darted from one side to the other, casting healing spells as she tried to keep everyone standing. Around her, Ginny and Luna controlled their wolves with precise gestures, though exhaustion was starting to wear them down.

Bellatrix, her hair wild and tangled, lifted her wand high.

"Fiendfyre!"

The room turned into a blazing hell. Fiendfyre roared in every direction, forming monstrous shapes of flame that devoured skeletons, columns, and anything in their path. The heat was so intense it felt like it was tearing the breath from their lungs.

In front of them, a dozen Death Eaters blocked the only exit, wands raised and eyes filled with hatred.

Harry felt terror and fury clash in his chest until it hurt. For a heartbeat, everything around him seemed to freeze in absolute silence.

Then, like thunder echoing through every stone in the Ministry, he remembered Einar's voice.

Strong, clear, unmistakable:

"If you are in trouble… just shout my name to the sky: Dovahkiin."

For a moment, Harry was about to do it. He drew a deep breath, lifted his face toward the vault blackened by the flames, feeling the cry forming in his throat.

But before he could utter a word, the door behind the Death Eaters shattered in an explosion of splinters and fire.

A dozen spells flew through the air with a deafening roar. The flames recoiled with a thunderous hiss.

Sirius burst in at the front, his wand blazing with bright blue light, his face marked by fury and concern. At his side, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Moody stormed in formation, conjuring shields and counter-curses in unison.

Sirius swept the chaos with a single look, until his eyes locked onto Harry across the fire.

"Harry! Are you all right?" he called out, his voice rough, his eyes blazing with pure determination.