Harry Potter and the Hall of Echoes [COMPLETED]

Chapter 7

They made their way back through the west wing of the castle, then down a narrow, spiral staircase, until they reached a lower level. The hallways all seemed noticeably darker than before, as if the moonlight coming through the windows had suddenly dimmed and faded.

'Is it here?' said Ron, pointing down the dark hall.

'I don't think so,' Harry replied. 'We're in the basement, aren't we? I think it's still a couple down.'

Ron gave a shrug, and was about to follow Harry — but he was stopped in his tracks by a strange noise in the near distance. It was a low, echoey sound... it sounded like a man's voice, a kind of groaning...

'Did you hear that?' said Ron.

Harry nodded, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

'Let's go,' said Ron quickly, pointing down the stairs. 'I don't want to find out what that is...'

The groaning of the man grew louder and louder, and then a kind of sputtering noise filled the air, as if someone was coughing up blood.

'Help,' the man was saying. 'Help — me...'

Harry felt a shiver go down his spine as the man's voice reverberated through the air. He and Ron both looked down the hallway, but there were no windows on this level, making everything completely and utterly dark. The cries of 'help' from the man kept echoing through the hall: help... help... help...

'Do you think someone's there?' Ron asked, sounding fearful.

With no time to worry about the danger they might be in, Harry took his wand out of his pocket — 'Lumos!' he shouted.

He shone the light down the hallway, revealing what they previously were not able to see.... and as the beam of Harry's wand reached the very end of the hall, he and Ron both gasped in unison.

'Please,' said the man, who was trying to beckon them over. He was slumped against a wall, his hands both covered in blood, his head bent downwards as if his neck couldn't support the weight.

An eerie please... please... please... kept ringing out through the hall as Harry and Ron sprinted towards him.

Once they had reached the man's side, Harry realised immediately who it was. He was dark-haired and young, but frail and sickly-looking. 'Professor Hopkins?' he said confusedly. 'What happened to you?'

'They found me,' Hopkins whispered, grabbing Harry's sleeve. 'They ... they ... they're everywhere —'

'Who's everywhere?' Ron asked.

Professor Hopkins suddenly looked around, his eyes wide and unfocused. 'There isn't much time,' he said, shaking his head. 'I've learned too much, and they've figured it out. You,' he pointed to Harry. 'They want you — for the Echoes...'

'The Echoes?' said Harry. 'What do you mean?'

Hopkins opened his mouth to answer, but he looked suddenly frightened at what he was looking at. 'There,' he said, pointing frantically. 'Don't trust her!'

Harry and Ron turned around at the same time — a woman was walking briskly towards them — and as she came into the light, Harry noticed there was something very strange about her appearance.

X

'Move aside,' said Professor Honeywell. 'I said now,' she added, failing to notice the bewildered expression on Harry's face.

'Professor,' said Harry slowly, 'your arm....'

But Professor Honeywell ignored him. She pulled out her wand, then she stared at Hopkins for a moment. 'Hold that up,' she directed Harry, pointing to his wandlight. 'You,' she said to Ron. 'Could you please find Professor Banjeev — the Teachers' Chambers are three floors above. Tell him there's been a terrible accident in the East Hall...'

'Uh, yeah... all right,' said Ron vaguely; he was looking at Professor Honeywell with the same mystified look as Harry. But he eventually gave her a firm nod, and set off towards the spiral staircase.

'Stand back,' said Professor Honeywell.

Harry did as he was told.

A warm, red light then came from the tip of Professor Honeywell's wand, and she aimed this light at the wounds on Hopkins' body. There were deep gashes on his face, and a particularly grisly one across his chest — but Harry noticed these wounds were clean and sharp, as if Hopkins had been sliced by a skilled surgeon.

'Oh, dear,' said Professor Honeywell, as she placed her hand on Hopkins' chest wound. 'It couldn't be...'

'What is it?' Harry asked.

But Professor Honeywell did not answer him. Instead, she kept moving her wand over the cuts and gashes; the wounds were sealing themselves closed as Honeywell muttered her spell. As she did this, Harry could not help looking at her arm — the tips of her fingers seemed to be made of a glass-like porcelain, and her palm was glowing white under the skin.

The sounds of footsteps came from above, and Ron soon appeared again, now accompanied by a breathless Professor Banjeev. Harry noticed Professor Honeywell was tugging at her sleeve — it seemed like she was trying to hide her glass arm...

'It looks bad, Anwar,' Professor Honeywell told Banjeev hastily. 'I can't heal this on my own. You haven't misplaced a Nightwelp recently, have you?'

'Me lose a Nightwelp?' said Professor Banjeev, somewhat affronted. 'Of course I haven't done that, Wynny... I wouldn't be stupid enough to keep one of those on school grounds...'

He moved towards Hopkins, who was breathing more calmly now that Honeywell had attended to his wounds.

'Headmaster?' said Professor Banjeev gently, as he pulled a small bottle from his pocket. 'Look at me: try not to move too much. I'm going to use this salve, but I have to warn you that it's going to sting a little...'

Hopkins' eyes kept darting between Professors Banjeev and Honeywell — he was so frightened and anxious that he clearly hadn't heard what Banjeev had said.

'Please, Headmaster — stay still...'

But Professor Hopkins was trying to wriggle out from Banjeev's grasp. 'Are you one of them?' he said, gesturing towards Professor Honeywell. 'You have to tell me, Banjeev — you can't lie...'

'Look, David,' Banjeev replied, 'I'm not really sure what you mean by "them"... but you have got to stay still, or else you're going to bleed out. It looks like you've been attacked by a Nightwelp.'

'Wh - what...' muttered Professor Hopkins, and then his eyes slowly closed.