Demigods at Hogwarts

Chapter 25

Oh, this one is long, almost 9,000 words. Lord. 

Enjoy...

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"I told you, no!" Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman. "If you smash it–!"

Harry's mind was racing. The Death Eaters wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere.

He had no interest in it. He just wanted to get them all out of this alive, to make sure none of his friends, and the three demigods, paid a terrible price for his stupidity...

The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled down her hood.

"You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Very well–take the girl," she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. "Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."

Harry felt his companions close in around Hermione; he stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held tightly up to his chest.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," Jason told Bellatrix, not caring that this was about Harry, he knew it when someone was nervous and he had to show that they were willing to fight if things led to it. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"

She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.

"So," Jason said, standing to stare and hanging his arm down to his side.

But before Jason could continue his talking Harry spoke up. "What kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?"

"What kind of prophecy?" Bellatrix repeated, the girl fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," Harry said, his eyes flickering from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through which they could escape. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

Several of the Death Eaters let out a low hiss.

"You dare speak his name?" Bellatrix whispered.

"Yeah," Harry said, maintaining his tight grip on the glass ball, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from him. "Yeah, I've got no problem with saying Vol–"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips–"

"Jee, woman, calm down," Leo said nonchalantly. "If you've got such problems with us calling him his name then we can also just call him no-nose-face, or Voldy, I especially like that one."

"You dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare–"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" Harry said recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle–or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?"

"Stupef–"

"No–"

A jet of red lightning had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell cursed hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs shattered.

Two figures, pearly-white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves front he fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak; their coined vied with each other so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts.

"...at the solstice will come a new..." said the figure of an old, bearded man.

"Do not attack, we need the prophecy!"