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Chapter 686: Voldemort’s Suspicion
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 11:12:44 +0000 UTCNo one could have imagined the prophecy globe would be so fragile. It had only tumbled down a single step, yet it shattered into countless pieces.
Harry was just as surprised. He had always assumed it was sturdier—sturdy enough, at least, that he’d casually slipped it into his pocket without a second thought.
Now he sat on the ground, staring blankly at the spot where the prophecy globe had broken apart.
From the shards rose a milky-white figure, its magnified eyes eerily large, almost cartoonish in size. There was something unsettlingly familiar about those eyes. Harry squinted, the resemblance dawning on him—those bulging eyes were almost identical to Professor Trelawney’s, like her gaze during Divination class. Add a pair of glasses, and the resemblance would be uncanny.
The ghostly figure began to speak, its voice soft, almost a whisper.
“At the moment of victory or defeat, there will be a new...”
The words trailed off. The voice was so faint, and the chaotic din around Harry—crashes, screams, and shouts—drowned out the rest.
Before he could react, someone grabbed his arm, yanking him out of the way.
“Move!” Harry recognized Sirius’s voice, sharp with urgency.
He quickly understood why.
Two curses, their beams glowing in vivid colors, struck the ground where he’d just been sitting. Without Sirius’s intervention, Harry wouldn’t have stood a chance.
“Thanks,” Harry muttered, scrambling to his feet.
“Don’t just stand there!” Sirius barked, his tone harsh but his focus locked on Bellatrix Lestrange in the distance.
Bellatrix, too, had seen the globe shatter.
“No!” she screamed, her voice shrill with desperation. She flung curses at Harry with unrestrained fury, each one more reckless than the last.
Voldemort had ordered the prophecy globe be retrieved intact. Its destruction was a catastrophic failure—one Bellatrix couldn’t bear. She was consumed with rage and a frantic desire to salvage something, anything. Killing Harry might be her only chance to atone.
She hurled spells wildly, oblivious to the danger above her. A sphere of dragon fire had appeared, glowing ominously and growing in size.
A nearby Death Eater noticed the threat just in time. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her toward the nearest exit, barely pausing to explain. Bellatrix, resisting at first, was ultimately forced to retreat.
As the door slammed shut behind them, Bellatrix’s voice echoed through the room, shrill and full of anguish:
“I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him! Master, I tried—I did my best! Don’t punish me!”
Her retreat had immediate consequences.
The remaining Death Eaters faltered. With Bellatrix fleeing and the prophecy lost, their resolve crumbled. Panic set in, and they scattered.
Those swift or fortunate enough bolted for the exits, while the rest found themselves blocked by Sirius, Lupin, and the others who had quickly regrouped.
...
“Haha, what luck, I’ve won the jackpot,” Sirius said with a grin, dragging a rigid, immobilized figure behind him.
The captive was Antonin Dolohov, infamous for having tortured Moody earlier. Truly, a jackpot catch. Dolohov’s body was frozen stiff, courtesy of the Full Body-Bind Curse, and he glared furiously at everyone in the room. Not that anyone paid his glare any mind.
“I think we should keep him and hand him over to Alastor when he wakes up,” Lupin suggested, his tone calm but firm.
Lupin himself had his hands full—quite literally—with another Death Eater. This one was tall and lean, slumped heavily in his grip.
“Macnair,” Kingsley interjected, nodding at the unconscious figure. “A member of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. I should’ve expected him to be among the Death Eaters.”
The battle was now all but over.
Realizing they had no chance of escape, the remaining Death Eaters had dropped their wands and surrendered. The fight had drained their resolve, leaving them with no choice but to submit.
Just a couple of minutes later, a heavy thud sounded, followed by a cloud of dust rising into the air. Fluffy, the massive Three-Headed Dog, had staggered back to Kyle and collapsed on the ground.
The creature bore clear signs of the fight—scorch marks across its fur and a deep gash on the leftmost head that oozed blood onto the floor. Despite its formidable resistance to most spells, even Fluffy couldn’t withstand a concentrated barrage of magic from a dozen Death Eaters.
“You’ve worked hard, Fluffy,” Kyle said, crouching down to pet the middle head’s chin. Immediately, the other two heads nudged in, eager for attention. They jostled and snapped at each other playfully, each vying for Kyle’s hand.
Meanwhile, Norbert swooped down from above and landed nearby. The dragon, thanks to its ability to fly and unleash powerful long-range attacks, was in much better shape than Fluffy. If anything, Norbert looked slightly dissatisfied, as if the battle hadn’t been challenging enough.
“Amazing,” Lupin said, tilting his head in astonishment. “I never thought I’d see a Three-Headed Dog and a Dragon inside the Ministry of Magic.”
Then, after a moment’s thought, he added with a wry smile, “What’s even harder to believe is that they’re so... docile.”
On instinct, Lupin reached out to stroke Fluffy’s fur. But as his hand moved closer, the leftmost head turned sharply, baring its teeth and growling low. Lupin quickly withdrew his hand, a sheepish look on his face.
“Maybe not so docile,” he admitted. “At least, not to anyone but you, Kyle.”
The rest of the group began to gather around. Harry, noticing the Wampus Cat nearby, made his way over to it. Bowing slightly, he said with genuine gratitude, “Thank you...”
He remembered vividly how the Wampus Cat had kicked him out of harm’s way when Bellatrix had fired the Killing Curse. The sensation of that powerful yet familiar shove still lingered in his mind.
The Wampus Cat responded with a subtle nod, its calm demeanor unchanged.
Harry’s attention then shifted to Fluffy and Norbert. Something about the Three-Headed Dog stirred a memory, tugging at the edges of his thoughts.
“This... Could it be Hagrid’s Fluffy?” Harry asked tentatively.
Three-Headed Dogs were rare, and the only one he’d ever seen was back in his first year—Hagrid’s pet, used by Dumbledore to guard the Philosopher’s Stone. But the Fluffy he remembered was much smaller than the massive creature before him.
“Yes, it’s Fluffy,” Kyle confirmed with a nod. “I borrowed him from the Forbidden Forest recently—just in case.”
Kyle gave Fluffy another affectionate pat on the chin before reaching for the suitcase he’d brought.
“All right, back inside. I’ll prepare a big meal for you tomorrow.”
At the mention of food, Fluffy immediately started drooling. Norbert, unimpressed, gave Fluffy a disdainful glance before diving into the suitcase first. The cramped space outside was hardly comfortable for him; the suitcase’s enchanted interior offered far more room.
Kingsley stared unblinkingly at Kyle’s suitcase. After the dragon and the Three-Headed Dog had disappeared inside, he finally spoke.
“What is your relationship with Mr. Newt Scamander?”
Kyle glanced up. “He was kind of my mentor when it came to Magical Creatures.”
“A good relationship?” Kingsley pressed.
“Well, it was okay,” Kyle replied with a nod.
Kingsley smacked his lips, his expression unreadable. It all made sense now—the inexplicable sense of familiarity he’d felt when looking at the suitcase. He could already picture the Aurors adding another name to their list of high-priority individuals to monitor.
Not because Kyle wasn’t trustworthy—far from it. Even Dumbledore placed unconditional trust in Kyle, and Kingsley wasn’t one to doubt the headmaster’s judgment.
But this wasn’t about trust. No Auror would feel completely at ease with someone casually carting around a dragon.
And the dragon wasn’t the only concern. Kyle’s suitcase also housed a Wampus Cat, a Three-Headed Dog, and who knows what else—each a Class 5X Magical Creature, capable of causing widespread panic if unleashed.
Even now, Kingsley felt he was risking his career by tacitly aiding in hiding them.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Kyle said, clearing his throat. “I borrowed all of these. The Three-Headed Dog is from Hogwarts’ Forbidden Forest, and the Wampus Cat belongs to Newt. I’ll return them all in due time.”
“Oh...” Kingsley responded blankly, his skepticism showing.
“Well, we should head out too,” Mr. Weasley interjected, looking around the room. “Where are the injured?”
“They’re here, too,” Kyle said, patting the suitcase with a faint smile. “Don’t worry—they’re safe.”
The group turned as one to stare at the suitcase, their expressions a mix of disbelief and unease.
Mr. Weasley’s mouth twitched, as though he wanted to argue but decided against it. Technically, Kyle was right—the injured were safe inside the suitcase... if one could overlook being surrounded by creatures like a Dragon and a Three-Headed Dog.
“What about the Death Eaters?” Kyle asked. “Should we put them in the suitcase too? It’d be easier.”
“Er, no need. Leave it to me,” Kingsley replied quickly, his voice almost hurried.
With a wave of his wand, he conjured a long rope and used it to securely bind the captured Death Eaters, who had already been disarmed. Then, with another flick of his wand, he dragged the restrained prisoners along behind him.
Kyle said nothing, simply observing as Kingsley took charge.
The group headed toward the nearest door. Sirius and Lupin led the way, wands drawn as they cautiously pushed the door open.
Fortunately, the Death Eaters who had fled earlier weren’t lying in wait on the other side.
Still, no one let their guard down. Sirius and Lupin continued to scout ahead, wands at the ready, while Kyle instructed the Wampus Cat to stay with them for added security.
As they walked, Mr. Weasley couldn’t help but glance at Kyle. “Kyle, shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts? How did you end up here?”
“Oh, Fred and George spotted Harry flying off on a Thestral and told me,” Kyle explained. “I went to Professor Dumbledore, and he’s the one who brought me here.”
Harry blinked in surprise and looked back at Kyle. “We were discovered?”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem? Most people can’t see Thestrals, but that doesn’t mean they can’t see the people riding them.” He paused, then added, “If you’d waited a little longer, Dumbledore would’ve told you Sirius was safe.”
Harry’s head dropped, shame evident on his face.
Sirius, walking just ahead, glanced back at Harry as if wanting to say something. But Lupin stopped him with a small shake of his head.
Now wasn’t the time.
Harry had acted recklessly. Charging into the Ministry without a plan had put everyone in danger. The group had stumbled headfirst into the Death Eaters’ trap, forcing everyone onto the defensive.
If Kyle hadn’t arrived when he did, things could have ended in disaster. With over twenty Death Eaters, the odds of fighting back had been nonexistent. It would’ve only been a matter of time before they were overwhelmed.
Lupin shuddered at the thought, a chill running down his spine.
This couldn’t be allowed to happen again.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, his head bowed, speaking sincerely. "I will never do it again."
"You’d better remember what you said today," Lupin responded without turning around.
“Okay, Remus.” Seeing the tension in the room, Mr. Weasley stepped in to smooth things over. “Sirius is, after all, Harry’s only family. He’s the affection Harry has longed for, for more than ten years... This was a trap, carefully prepared for him by the cunning You-Know-Who."
“You-Know-Who’s tricks are difficult to anticipate. Sometimes even we fall for them, let alone Harry, who lacks experience.”
Lupin sighed. It was true, but some things still needed to be said.
“Oh, yes,” Mr. Weasley shifted the topic slightly, “Kyle, you mentioned earlier that Dumbledore brought you here?”
“Well, the Phoenix brought us directly from Hogwarts to the Ministry of Magic by Apparition,” Kyle replied.
“By Merlin, what was Dumbledore thinking, bringing students to such a dangerous place...” Mr. Weasley trailed off, his gaze shifting to the suitcase in Kyle’s hand. Strictly speaking, Kyle was likely far more dangerous than the Death Eaters at the moment.
Choosing not to dwell on it, he continued, “So where is Dumbledore? Why didn’t he come with you?”
“Yes...” Sirius, who was walking ahead, couldn’t help but interject, “If he’d been there, Bellatrix definitely wouldn’t have escaped. That crazy woman is far too dangerous.”
Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement. If Dumbledore had been there, he could have exposed Malfoy’s true identity himself. Earlier, Mr. Weasley had caught a glimpse of the unmistakable platinum blonde hair, poorly concealed by a mask or hood. It was clear Malfoy had been among them.
“That,” Kyle said calmly, “is because Professor Dumbledore is still outside the Department of Mysteries, fighting Voldemort.”
Without exception, everyone stopped in their tracks.
“What are you talking about?” Sirius nearly shouted. “You-Know-Who is at the Ministry of Magic?”
“Yes,” Kyle replied, “I ran into him on the way here. Professor Dumbledore and Voldemort. Us and the Death Eaters. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”
Harry felt a wave of guilt crash over him, but no one was paying him any attention now. The group stood in silence for a moment before continuing, their expressions considerably more serious.
The return trip was uneventful. They encountered no Death Eaters blocking their way; it seemed the attackers had fled and chosen not to remain in the Department of Mysteries.
With his excellent memory, Lupin quickly led the group back to the black rotunda, where the corridor leading to the elevators began.
Then, Lupin and Sirius froze simultaneously.
If Kyle’s words were true, this area was just outside the battlefield between Dumbledore and Voldemort. Was it really safe for them to proceed? Would they end up distracting Dumbledore...?
Before they could consider further, a door to the right opened suddenly, revealing the corridor to the lift.
Everyone tensed, but they soon realized the corridor was empty. Neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort was in sight.
Sirius, Lupin, and Kingsley cautiously stepped forward, only to gasp at the scene before them.
The corridor looked as though it had been ravaged by countless Blasting Curses. The walls on both sides were nearly destroyed, the floor was littered with debris, and a massive hole gaped in the ceiling.
Now, no one doubted Kyle’s claim.
Fortunately, the lift was intact. Mr. Weasley stepped forward to test it.
“It works,” Mr. Weasley said, stepping into the lift first.
Harry and Kyle followed, with Sirius and Lupin close behind. Kingsley stayed behind, choosing to guard the captured Death Eaters, as it was safer for everyone if they remained under supervision.
The adults quickly agreed that Kyle and Harry should be escorted out of the Ministry as soon as possible. Sirius jabbed the button for the main hall. “Hurry up, damn it! Can’t this thing go any faster?”
The lift clattered upward, groaning under the strain, before halting abruptly at the main hall.
The doors slid open, and the first sight to greet them made Sirius stop in his tracks.
Dumbledore and Voldemort were standing face-to-face.
“Oh no!” Sirius muttered in dismay. “Why did I let them come up? They should’ve stayed with Kingsley in the Department of Mysteries.”
Kyle peeked out from behind Lupin’s back, his eyes wide as he surveyed the scene.
The battle appeared to be at a pause. Dumbledore and Voldemort stood on opposite ends of the once-majestic hall, which now lay in ruins. The grandeur of the Great Hall had been shattered—its gleaming surfaces scarred by the battle. The central fountain’s statue was broken, with pieces scattered across the floor.
Half of the Centaur statue lay nearby, while a little farther off, the head and pointed ears of the wizard figure were visible amid the wreckage.
A lone Death Eater knelt before Voldemort, trembling—Bellatrix Lestrange.
“Bellatrix, you’ve failed me again, haven’t you?” Voldemort’s cold red eyes remained fixed on Dumbledore as he spoke, his voice a venomous whisper. “Months of planning… and yet my Death Eaters disappoint me once more.”
“I’m sorry, my lord!” Bellatrix cried, crawling pitifully to Voldemort’s feet. “Please, don’t punish me…”
“Silence, Bellatrix.” Voldemort’s gaze never wavered from Dumbledore. “This is the third time you’ve failed me, and you know what?” His tone was mocking yet filled with menace. “Someone got here before you."
“He was weak, but he brought me interesting news. Apparently, you deliberately attacked Harry Potter, who was carrying the prophecy."
“And that Kyle fellow,” Voldemort continued, his voice dripping with suspicion, “he seems to know you quite well, doesn’t he? Even the three-headed beast deliberately avoided attacking you too harshly.”
“No! That’s not true!” Bellatrix hissed, her face a mask of horror. “Master, I swear to you, I’m your most loyal servant. I was and I am!”
“I used to believe that too,” Voldemort said, his voice chillingly calm. “But your actions… they’ve made me doubt.”
Bellatrix collapsed, trembling violently on the ground. “No, my lord, I haven’t... I would never...”
Dumbledore stood silently to the side, watching the scene unfold without interfering. His sharp eyes took in every detail, from Bellatrix’s desperate pleas to Voldemort’s carefully chosen words.
Almost everyone in the wizarding world knew Bellatrix Lestrange as Voldemort’s most devoted follower—fierce, unhinged, and fanatically loyal. Yet here she was, being openly accused by her master.
Dumbledore’s brow furrowed slightly. Something about this scene felt strangely familiar to him. It wasn’t until Kyle’s name was mentioned that realization dawned.
Kyle.
Dumbledore’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. Then it’s fine.
But still, something nagged at him. The accusations and their delivery felt too blatant, almost staged. While Voldemort was notoriously distrustful, his quick acceptance of this apparent betrayal seemed oddly out of character.
Was this confrontation genuine? Or were they performing—for his benefit?
