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Harry noticed the others closing in around Ginny. He stepped sideways, positioning himself directly in front of her to shield her, and raised the Prophecy Orb to his chest.

"If you want to go after any one of us, you'll have to smash this."

He said to Bellatrix, "If you don't bring it back with you, I don't think your master will be very happy, will he?"

She did not move. She merely stared fixedly at Harry, running the tip of her tongue over her thin lips.

"So," Harry said, "what kind of prophecy is this, anyway?"

He could not think of what else to do, so he could only keep talking.

Neville's arm was pressed tightly against his. Harry could feel Neville trembling, and he could also feel someone breathing rapidly against the back of his head.

He hoped they were all actively thinking of a way to escape, because his own mind was completely blank.

"What kind of prophecy?"

Bellatrix repeated, the snarling smile gradually fading from her face.

"Are you joking, Harry Potter?"

"No, I'm not joking." Harry's gaze swept across the Death Eaters, searching for a weak point, an opening through which they could escape. "Why does Voldemort want it?"

Several Death Eaters let out low, displeased hisses.

"You dare speak his name?"

Bellatrix said in a low voice.

"Of course." Harry still gripped the glass sphere tightly, lest someone use magic to snatch it away again. "Yeah, I have no problem saying his name. Vol—"

"Shut up!"

Bellatrix shrieked furiously.

"You dare speak his name with that filthy mouth of yours! You dare defile it with that Mudblood tongue of yours! You dare—"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?"

Harry said without hesitation. Hermione let out a soft moan beside his ear, clearly terrified.