Harry Potter and the Hall of Echoes [COMPLETED]

Chapter 10

It was hard for Harry to fall asleep that night; he couldn't stop thinking about the man with the glass arm. He just couldn't stop wondering who he was.

There was one name, of course, that kept lingering at the back of his mind... but then, why would Lord Voldemort be here, of all places? He was supposed to be in hiding, barely clinging to life... a shadow of his former self.

And now that Harry thought about it, why on earth would Voldemort be trying to get Hedwig to send a letter? That's what the man had been doing with Harry's owl — Harry had seen him tying an envelope to Hedwig's leg.

It just made no sense, no sense whatsoever... and yet Harry had the lingering feeling there was something glaring he was missing: some clue or sign that he'd managed to overlook.

So there was a man with a glass arm, and his arm was red... And there was Honeywell, with a white one... but she apparently didn't have it anymore.

Harry tried thinking back to the night when the Headmaster Hopkins had been attacked — he'd been scared, almost paranoid... but about what? About... who?

And then Harry remembered what Hopkins had been trying to explain... They're everywhere, he'd said — and he'd been afraid they were going to get him.

Harry sat up in bed, his heart now thumping loudly in his chest; maybe Hopkins hadn't been having delusions that night... maybe he'd been trying to warn Harry about something: some kind of danger the school was in...

But exactly what danger that was, Harry still could not understand.

X

'Who's "them"?' said Ron, in the boys' dormitory next morning. 'So you think this man with the glass arm is one of them?'

'Well, I don't know,' said Harry truthfully, 'but I'm willing to bet a bag full of Galleons that Headmaster Hopkins does.'

Ron looked a little concerned. 'Maybe it's something to do with You-Know-Who,' he suggested.

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'Could be.'

'E-excuse me?' someone muttered timidly. Harry turned around to see that he was being addressed by a short boy in Dartford uniform.

'No autographs,' Ron grunted, trying to wave the boy away — but Harry noticed that he was carrying something that looked familiar.

'Uh, is this yours?' the boy asked Harry. He then held up a small, matchbox-sized package that Harry recognised as the Mystery Box (Ron's present to him from his family trip to Guatemala). 'Some of my friends were looking at it before... but I noticed your name was written on it.'

The boy was holding out the box with his arm fully extended — as if he was very afraid of what lay inside it.

'It's mine, yeah,' said Harry, taking the box. 'Wait, what the —'

The ribbon across the top seemed to have been ripped in half, and the edges of the box were all creased and damaged.

'It wasn't me,' the boy said defensively. 'It wasn't us, I mean. The box did the damage itself... I don't know what's in there, but —'

Ron snorted. 'How convenient,' he said. 'It was the box that damaged the box... Which one of your friends stole it, eh? Oi — come back —!'

But the boy had already dashed off in fear.

Harry stared at the box: it certainly didn't look dangerous.

'How come you never opened it?' said Ron, sounding slightly hurt. 'That present cost me six Sickles.'

'I just didn't get around to it,' Harry explained. 'I'll open it now.'

'Open it later,' Ron grumbled.

Harry sighed as he pocketed the tiny Mystery Box. He then followed Ron down the stairs and into the main lounge area.

'Hey,' said Ron. 'Look at that...'

He was pointing at the door-sized wooden box: the one with the pictures of oddly-coloured reptiles. Harry noticed that one of the pictures was currently glowing — it was the purple lizard, which was on the left-hand side.

Harry followed Ron over to the box, watching curiously as Ron tried pressing on the small, illuminated picture.

'Nothing,' said Ron, shrugging. 'It's probably broken.'

'Morning, gents,' said a jovial voice from behind them: Harry turned around to see that it was Blake. 'Are you two set for the All-Stars Quidditch game this Wednesday?' he asked.

'That's still happening, is it?' Ron asked. 'We haven't really been training.'

Blake laughed as if Ron had made a funny joke, then he slapped Ron on the back while shaking his head.

'Ooh,' murmured Blake, noticing that they were looking at the wooden box. 'That doesn't usually light up.'

'What is this?' Harry asked. 'What does it do?'

Blake paused for a second, then he smiled. 'Well, one of you has to move to the side,' he said, 'because it only works with one person. All right — Ron? You stand here...'

Blake positioned Ron until he was directly facing the picture of the orange frog in the centre.

'Now what?' Ron asked.

'Trawsffurfiad,' said Blake, upon which the orange frog began to light up.

Harry and Ron both watched as the picture seemed to vibrate in place, and Harry noticed that the frog's eyes were turning into a strange, black colour.

A bright beam of light then shot out from the frog's eyes, hitting Ron square in the middle of his forehead.

'What do I do now?' Ron asked Blake. 'How do I play the game?'

'Game?' said Blake uncomprehendingly. 'Oh, shoot — look at the time... well, I better get going...'

Harry thought he noticed a slightly mischievous smile on Blake's face as he quickly left the boys' dormitory.