Chapter 697: The Lost Prophecy (Edited)

Voldemort walked down the dark and cool hallway of the Department of Mysteries, followed by two men, one of whom was the newly appointed Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse.

The new minister gave a slight bow, following Voldemort with a respectful expression, deliberately staying half a step behind him.

The other, also half a body behind, was Yaxley, a Death Eater from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who had taken up the position of Deputy Director when Pius became minister.

At the same time, he was also responsible for placing the Imperius Curse on Thicknesse.

Tonight, the guards of the Ministry of Magic had already been organized by Thicknesse, either Death Eaters or under the Imperius Curse, so Voldemort and his group reached the Department of Mysteries without encountering any obstacles.

"Wait for me outside," Voldemort ordered indifferently.

"Yes, my Lord," Thicknesse and Yaxley responded in unison, honestly staying in front of the door.

Voldemort pushed open the door to the Hall of Prophecies and entered the room he had seen many times in the memories of others, but had come to for the first time in person.

It was as tall as a cathedral, filled with tall shelves, on which there were many small, gray crystal balls. The balls glowed dimly in the light of the candle-lit sconces between the shelves.

Although it was his first time coming here, in the memories of other people, Voldemort had walked here countless times, not even needing to look up to see the number on the shelf, and turned directly to the right after entering the door.

After passing the rows of shelves, Voldemort stopped, only then shifting his gaze to the top of the shelf, confirming that he was indeed on row 97, and took a few steps inward.

"Here it is..."

Voldemort couldn't contain his joy anymore and looked at a dusty crystal ball on the shelf.

It was dusty, as if it hadn't been touched in years, but it emitted a faint light from within.

On the shelf, below the dusty crystal ball, was an inserted yellowed label. On the label, written in long, thin letters, was a date from about sixteen years ago, followed by

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

[The Dark Lord and Harry Potter]

Voldemort chuckled quietly, not immediately grabbing the prophecy orb, but muttering to himself, "Now you're watching, aren't you? This time it's not an image I've conjured up for you, so watch and wait with infinite fear... Harry Potter!"

With that, he reached out and grabbed the prophecy orb.

Harry woke up startled, he felt his forehead, the scar didn't hurt at all, and there were no signs of his Occlumency being breached...

But when he thought about what Dumbledore had told him about the nature of the connection between him and Voldemort, Harry became even more worried.

This meant that Voldemort had truly obtained the Orb of Prophecy.

Damn it! Even with a new minister, the Ministry of Magic can't do anything right!

Unaware of Thicknesse's respectful attitude, Harry punched the bed and rushed out of his room in his pajamas, heading towards Sirius.

By the time Harry informed Sirius and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix of the bad news, Voldemort had returned to Malfoy Manor with the Sphere of Prophecy.

"Let no one disturb me!" Voldemort quickly ordered as soon as he returned to the mansion. "Barty, Bella, you two guard outside and don't let anyone approach!"

"Yes, my Lord!"

Barty Jr. and Bellatrix were Voldemort's most fervent followers, and even though they were just guarding Voldemort's door, they were highly excited.

Both wielded their wands and faithfully kept watch at the door.

Voldemort entered the room and quickly cast a spell to isolate it from the outside world before activating the prophecy sphere.

Two figures floated like smoke, white as ghosts, and appeared before Voldemort, one of whom was familiar to him, none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Upon seeing Dumbledore's figure, Voldemort's pale face showed a clear expression of disgust, and then he averted his eyes from Dumbledore's influence to look at the woman he didn't know.

She was a figure wrapped in a shawl, her eyes magnified many times by the lenses, terrifyingly large.

The Sybill Trelawney of fifteen years ago was not much different from the present one, just younger.

When she spoke, it wasn't with her usual ethereal and mysterious voice, but with the deep and hoarse voice Harry had heard once, during his final Divination exam:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... one of them shall die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

As Trelawney's words fell, the voices of both her and Dumbledore grew fainter and eventually faded away.

"So, it is... so, it is..."

Murmured Voldemort, having understood the full extent of the prophecy, finally realizing why he had failed, because his very act of attacking Harry Potter had been a fulfillment of the prophecy.

And it occurred to him that Harry Potter was not the only one fitting the first half of the prophecy, but he had not hesitated to choose that little baby, who was also a half-blood, even breaking faith with Snape for it.

However, the matter of Snape merely crossed Voldemort's mind; he did not think it was a big deal. She was just a woman, and with his "gift" to Snape, he should have long forgotten that Mudblood.

Leaving this "tedious" matter behind, Voldemort finally envisioned how to confront Harry Potter: he had to do it himself, just as he had done the first time he rose.

After sending someone to Ollivander to inquire about the Priori Incantatem spell that had been triggered when he fought against Harry, Voldemort had learned that his wand and Harry's were "brothers," and apparently, the reason for this was related to the lightning-shaped scar left on Harry's forehead.

So, all he needed was a new wand...

"Master!"

Bellatrix and Barty Crouch Jr. greeted Voldemort as soon as they noticed him emerging, bowing.

"Hm," Voldemort responded indifferently. "Where is Lucius now? Tell him to come see me in the study."

A few minutes later, Lucius arrived at his own study and knelt before Voldemort.

"Master, what are your orders?"

Lucius respectfully asked, bowing his head to the ground.

Ever since he had told Voldemort about the lost diary, his position among the Death Eaters had plummeted.

Although there were still people who remained friendly to him because of old times, many more were thinking of ways to replace his former position among the Death Eaters, and Bella, the madwoman who had ignored his bond with Narcissa, held a grudge against him...

As Bellatrix had the diary in her possession initially, Lucius lost it and made her believe that Voldemort would blame her for it.

If Lucius hadn't already betrayed Voldemort in secret, he would have felt suffocated... Although, even now, he still feels suffocated.

"Your wand, Lucius. I want your wand," said Voldemort bluntly.

"Master?" Lucius raised his eyes in surprise.

Then he met Voldemort's scarlet eyes.

Lucius quickly bowed his head again and, pulling out a wand from his robe, respectfully handed it to Voldemort.

Voldemort brought the wand close to his red eyes and examined it closely.

"What is it made of?"

"It's made of elm wood, my Lord," Lucius whispered.

"And the wand core?"

"The heartstring of a fire dragon," Lucius responded in a whisper.

"Very well," said Voldemort. He took out his own wand, comparing the lengths.

Lucius Malfoy involuntarily shuddered and, for a moment, seemed to expect Voldemort to exchange his wand for Lucius's. But he soon dismissed that thought.

Having betrayed Voldemort, he saw his "master's" character more clearly.

Voldemort noticed his behavior and nodded with satisfaction at Lucius's understanding.

"You have nothing else to do here, leave."

"Yes, my Lord."

Lucius stood up from the floor, with his head bowed and respectfully stooped, his eyes fixed on the ground, and he walked backward out of the study.