The Order of the Phoenix's operation in the Department of Mysteries was harder than they had imagined. More and more people were charging toward this floor of the Magical Congress Building through its various passageways.
It was simply unbelievable.
Aurors were the elite of the Wizarding World, but there had never been many of them.
Even when the Magical Congress first faced the terrible Witch Hunt, it had only twelve Aurors. After generations of growth, there were still only twenty or thirty today.
But there were so many wizards charging in.
Some even had office clerks' nameplates hanging from their uniforms. They were rushing forward like mad, as if determined to perish alongside the demons destroying their homes.
Who knew what Voldemort had told them?
For a time, all kinds of spells whistled and thundered through the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. One Prophecy Orb after another was blasted off the shelves, shattering on the floor.
Among the crystal shards, several pale, translucent figures floated up like Ghosts, muttering their respective Prophecies—"...a new... will appear at the solstice..."
"His pursuit of his dreams is doomed to fail. The deaths of his loved ones will imprison him like a cage..."
Chaos reigned everywhere. All sorts of magic had wreaked havoc, especially Transfiguration, which dramatically altered the surroundings. It had easily toppled an entire rack full of Prophecy Orbs.
On a battlefield like this, holding back could only lead to your own destruction.
An old man leaning on a cane charged forward, waving his Wand. Professor McGonagall cast only a single Stupefy, but as he fell, a flying rack struck him. He had no time to dodge, and his neck snapped on the spot.
Professor McGonagall didn't even have time to raise her Wand and save him!
She watched