Harry Potter and the Hall of Echoes [COMPLETED]

Chapter 3

'You're sure this is yours?' the shopkeeper asked.

'Yes,' said Harry. 'She's mine.'

The shopkeeper stared fixedly at Harry for a moment, but his expression soon softened, and he smiled. 'Well, I found her out on the street,' he explained. 'And in quite a sorry state, I might add... You'll notice her wing is a bit clipped, so I've been giving her this —'

'Clipped?' said Harry. 'What do you mean?'

The shopkeeper shrugged. 'It happens sometimes,' he replied, as he dabbed ointment on Hedwig's feathers. 'They fly in all sorts, those birds... and the snowies aren't really built for wind or rain...'

He gave Harry a mutinous sort of look, as if he thought Harry had intended to injure Hedwig on purpose.

Harry sighed. 'How much does that stuff cost?' he asked, pointing at the ointment the shopkeeper was holding.

'Twenty Sickles,' the shopkeeper replied.

Harry pulled out his coin purse, shaking out a few pieces of silver.

'And that cage is five Galleons,' the shopkeeper added evenly. 'Or you can get a nice gold one for twenty-five.'

Harry groaned and picked out some gold.

***

After visiting Gringotts Bank to replenish what he'd just spent at the Owl Emporium, Harry made his way over to Flourish & Blotts. He grinned privately as he noticed a stack of familiar books in the Discount pile — they were all written by Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry's former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Harry thought back to last term, when Professor Lockhart had tried to erase his and Ron's memories, only to have his Memory Charm backfire on himself. It was hard to feel much sympathy at all, considering everything that had happened. The events of last year had revealed Lockhart to be a complete fraud, which Harry suspected was the reason why his books were now on sale for a Knut each.

As Harry picked up a copy of Magical Me (which was decorated with a moving, smiling Lockhart), he heard a sudden, familiar voice come from behind him.

'Harry?' said the voice. 'Is that you?'

Harry turned around to see a tall, freckle-faced boy with a long nose; it was Ron Weasley, standing next to a girl with bushy brown hair.

'Oh, Harry,' said Hermione, before embracing him in a tight hug. 'Thank goodness you haven't left yet... I thought maybe Hedwig hadn't delivered our letters!'

'Letters?' said Harry. 'What letters?'

'The ones we sent,' said Hermione, 'saying we'd be meeting you today instead of yesterday. But how come you didn't meet us in front of Ollivanders, like we'd said?'

'I didn't get the letters,' said Harry, and he held up Hedwig's cage. Then he explained about how he'd found her at Eeylops Emporium.

'Weird,' said Ron, shaking his head. 'Well, that's never happened to Errol or Hermes... The worst they've ever had is a plucked feather or two.'

'Er, excuse me,' said an unfamiliar voice — it was a boy, and he was tapping Hermione gently on the shoulder. 'I'm sorry, but I think you might've dropped something.' 

The speaker was very pale, with a mop of dark, brown hair. He was very tall for his age — even taller than Ron — and he spoke with an implacable accent.

Hermione looked at what the boy was holding — it was a bright, red rose. 'Um, I don't think this belongs to me,' she said confusedly, handing it back.