Harry Potter and the Hall of Echoes [COMPLETED]

Chapter 12

When Harry finally awoke, it was in a place that he didn't recognise; it seemed to be an enormous, dark, damp-covered room.

The walls of this room were lined with tall, identical shelves: they reminded Harry of the kinds of scaffolding you'd see on a Muggle building site. Upon these shelves were rows and rows of statues — they appeared to be statues of wizards and witches, and they all looked incredibly life-like.

Harry tried desperately to move, but realised he couldn't. His hands were bound with rope, and so were his feet — he also seemed to be tied to a chair that was currently floating just above the ground. He considered trying to call out for help, but this idea was quickly stifled once he realised he was not alone.

On the left side of the room was an enormous, wooden workbench, and atop this bench were three half-completed statues. A tall man in a cloak was currently sitting at the bench, and he was aiming his wand at the statue in front of him. The man tapped on the statue's arm, which began to glow a bright blue — and to Harry's surprise, it also began to move.

While the man inspected the statue's arm, Harry tried again to wrest his hands free, but as he did so, the man spoke —

'There's no point struggling,' he said, turning around to face Harry. 'I see you're awake, though — that's good. Unfortunately Professor Honeywell can be a little overzealous with her wand work.'

Harry did a double take as he finally realised the identity of his captor. 'Headmaster Hopkins?' he said, disbelieving. 'You're — you're working with Professor Honeywell?'

Hopkins raised an eyebrow.

'Well, I wouldn't say it like that,' he replied. 'It would be more accurate to say that Headmaster Hopkins works for me, and the same goes for Professor Honeywell.'

'What?' said Harry, confused.

Hopkins laughed.

'It's a little complicated, I know,' he agreed, 'but I'm more than happy to explain everything — I should also make it clear that I am not going to hurt you. Not unless I have to do so.' Hopkins then waved his wand in a circle, and a pair of tall black mugs appeared on the table. 'Would you like a Cinnamon Melt, Harry?'

'Where are my friends?' Harry pressed. 'Where's Blake?'

'Ah,' said Hopkins. 'I believe they're currently over in the Moulding Room with Professor Honeywell. Now, please — have a drink... Relax.'

Hopkins waved his wand again, and the chair Harry was sitting in began floating back to the ground; it then hovered over to the other side of Hopkins' table, and landed with a soft, echoey thud.

'If you hurt them...' Harry began, but he stopped upon realising that Hopkins was laughing at him. This laughter, however, soon turned into a deep and nasty-sounding cough — and this cough ended with Hopkins spitting something goopy and yellow onto the ground.

'Ugh,' said Hopkins, pointing his wand at the phlegm, and instantly Vanishing it. He then took a sip of his Cinnamon Melt, and let out a long sigh.

'All right,' he then said. 'Where to begin. I suppose the prudent thing, first of all, would be to explain why I'm doing all of this.' He gestured to the rows of statues around him, with their stiff limbs and frozen expressions.

'You're working with Lord Voldemort, aren't you,' Harry guessed, trying not to look at the eerie faces that surrounded him.

Hopkins looked partly affronted, partly amused. 'You-Know-Who?' he said. 'You think I'm in league with the Dark Lord?'

Harry didn't blink. 'Well, I just reckon a normal Headmaster wouldn't tie up an exchange student to a floating chair,' he said.

'You've got a point, Harry,' said Hopkins, with a wry smile. 'But I think you misunderstand the basis of what drives me. I am not an evil wizard — and I do not desire things like money, or power, or anything of that sort.... I am an educator, plain and simple, and my priority is the children.'

Hopkins seemed to think this was a satisfactory explanation, but Harry had no clue what he was on about.

'Three years ago,' Hopkins went on, 'I find myself coming down with a bad cough. As you can imagine, I think it's just a common cold.' He sighed in a wistful way. 'A trip to Cardiff and the Healers tell me I've got an incurable case of Dragon Pox... They tell me I've got six months to live — a year, at best.'

Harry stared.

'Now, I know what Hogwarts is like,' Hopkins said, 'because I went to Hogwarts myself. And I know that the young witches and wizards who turn down a place at Dartford always do so in favour of Hogwarts.'

Harry noted that he seemed a bit resentful about this fact. 'So I thought to myself,' Hopkins continued, 'how do I go about solving this unsolvable problem? How do I ensure that the best and brightest will come to Dartford?' He smiled. 'It is no easy task to dethrone Hogwarts, I can tell you, but I think I've figured out a way.'

He gestured to the statues around him.