Chapter 153: The Prophecy's Change
Elian regarded the twelve raised wands with an almost bored expression, as though he'd found himself stuck in a particularly dull lesson.
"Tell me," he said, his voice carrying easily through the vast chamber, "does Voldemort not have the courage to come himself?"
"How dare you speak the Dark Lord's name!" a Death Eater spat, his mask unable to conceal the shock in his voice. "You filthy Muggle—"
"Muggle-born," Elian corrected smoothly. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but your precious Dark Lord is himself half-blood. Funny how that detail always seems to slip your minds."
"Silence!" Bellatrix Lestrange lunged forward, her wand arm trembling with barely contained fury. "You will not disrespect the Dark Lord with your filthy tongue!"
Elian made a small circular motion with his right hand, and in the space between heartbeats, he stood twenty feet behind them, near the doorway leading deeper into the Department.
"I said not to stand so close." His tone was conversational, almost pleasant. "I'd prefer not to smell any of you."
He raised the prophecy sphere high, letting the ethereal light within catch the attention of every Death Eater in the room.
"Now then. Since we're all here, wouldn't you like to know how I saw through your little trap for Harry? How I knew you'd be waiting?"
Bellatrix raised her wand, her face contorted with rage beneath her tangled dark hair, but Elian cut her off before she could speak.
"Ah-ah." He waggled a finger. "I did warn you about rash actions. What if my hand were to slip? I don't imagine your Dark Lord would be terribly pleased if this rather important little sphere were to shatter on the floor."
Lucius Malfoy caught Bellatrix's arm, his pale eyes narrowed with calculation behind his mask. "How did you know?" His voice was silken with suspicion. "The Dark Lord's plan was flawless. Only Potter knew of this place, and even if he'd told you, you couldn't possibly know so much."
"What I know about this prophecy," Elian said, letting his gaze drift meaningfully toward the shadows where he sensed a presence he'd been expecting, "goes far beyond what you imagine. I know, for instance, that Sirius Black isn't really here."
Lucius laughed, and Bellatrix joined him, her cackle echoing off the glass spheres.
"Still can't tell dreams from reality, that fool Potter," Lucius said with evident satisfaction. "He actually believed his vision was real."
Elian said nothing. He'd already given Sirius the signal—a subtle gesture that told the hidden man to stay exactly where he was.
"What I don't understand," Lucius continued, his amusement fading into genuine curiosity, "is how you've become so familiar with this place. How did you know about the prophecy? Dumbledore wouldn't have told you such things."
Elian smiled. "As I said. I know far more than you think."
He couldn't exactly explain that he'd witnessed the battle that was supposed to happen here dozens of times—not in this life, but in the echoes of possibilities that the System had shown him. That he knew exactly how this was meant to play out, with Harry arriving, with Sirius dying, with Bellatrix's wand delivering the killing blow that would send Harry into a grief-maddened chase.
"No matter," Bellatrix hissed. "What matters is why you can hold it. Only those named in a prophecy may retrieve it from the Hall. So tell me, Muggle-born—why does it answer to you?"
Elian looked at the sphere in his hand, watching the milky substance within swirl and shift.
"That's simple enough," he said quietly.
"Simple?" Lucius pressed. "Explain."
"Because the prophecy has changed." Elian turned the sphere slowly, watching the light catch its surface. "Surely you've felt it? The way things have shifted? This prophecy is no longer just about Voldemort and Harry Potter." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "It now contains three names. Voldemort. Harry Potter. And me."
"You dare—" Bellatrix's face purpled with rage. "You dare speak his name with that tongue—"
Elian shrugged. "Speaking of which. Why exactly hasn't your master come to collect this himself? Surely a prophecy about his own fate warrants personal attention?"
Lucius opened his mouth, but Elian held up a hand.
"Let me guess. The Ministry still officially denies his return. The Aurors are currently too busy rounding up your cousin's old supporters to notice much else, but if the Dark Lord himself were to appear—" He tilted his head mockingly. "Well. That would be rather like sending himself to the Azkaban welcome committee, wouldn't it? Only someone with a diseased mind would take that risk."
"At least you possess some intelligence," Lucius said coldly.
Elian laughed, the sound sharp and genuine. "Intelligence? No, Malfoy. I simply recognize cowardice when I see it. Your master hides behind all of you, sending you to do his dirty work while he cowers wherever he's currently nested." His voice dropped, filled with contempt. "He doesn't dare show his face. So he sends rats instead."
"Die!" Bellatrix screamed, raising her wand—
And then there were thirteen Elians standing in the chamber.
The original had vanished into the shadows between shelves, leaving a perfect circle of identical figures facing the Death Eaters. Each clone wore the same slight smile, each held the same relaxed posture, each radiated the same infuriating calm.
Bellatrix froze, her spell dying on her lips.
"Which one?" someone hissed from behind a mask.
"Focus!" Lucius barked, recovering faster than most. "The prophecy sphere—we need the sphere! Ignore the copies!"
But ignoring them proved difficult when each clone began moving independently, weaving between shelves, herding the Death Eaters away from the doorway where Elian—the real Elian—had slipped through.
In the darkness between two towering rows, Elian pressed himself against the cold stone and waited. Sirius was here somewhere. He'd sensed him the moment he'd entered the Hall, a warm presence hidden among the cold shelves of glass and prophecy.
"Sirius," he breathed into the darkness. "Come out. We need to go—now."
Above, the sounds of battle echoed. His clones were giving the Death Eaters everything they could handle, attacking not with traditional spells but with the pure energy of the Mystic Arts—golden shields deflecting their curses, discs of force sending them stumbling, illusions confusing their aim. Bellatrix's screams of frustration echoed through the chamber as her Killing Curses passed harmlessly through images that weren't there.
But Elian couldn't maintain the clones forever, and he couldn't leave without—
"Bloody hell, boy." The whisper came from directly behind him, and Elian spun to find Sirius Black emerging from the shadows, his dark hair wild, his eyes wide with something between shock and grudging admiration. "How did you know I was here?"
Elian allowed himself a small smile of relief. "No time to explain. Harry's not coming—I made sure of that. But we need to move before—"
A crash from above. One of his clones had been dispersed by a well-aimed curse.
"They're adapting," Elian muttered. He grabbed Sirius's arm. "Stay close."
He raised his free hand, the Sling Ring already warming against his fingers, and began to trace the circle that would take them home—
But even as the golden sparks began to fly, he felt it. A presence. Cold. Ancient. Furious.
Far below, in the depths of the Ministry, something had just realized its trap had been sprung on the wrong prey.
And it was coming.
(End of Chapter)
✨If you're enjoying this story, consider supporting me on Patreon —
Patreon.com/TofuChan
Where you can read Extra Advance Chaters
Bonus Chapter For Every 100 Power Stones
Lets hit the goal of 300 Patreon Members now for 5 Extra Chapters 💕
New Novel is out 🎉❤️Check it out and add it to your collection also,
There is a 20% discount For 2 days on Patreon