Harry Potter and the Hall of Echoes [COMPLETED]

Chapter 13

'These are what I call my "Echoes",' Hopkins explained. 'For the past three years, I've been crafting them in secret. It's very difficult magic, but I've managed to master the art of constructing them. And finally,' he sighed, 'over the past three weeks, I've finally been able to test some of them out... Would you like to see what they do?'

In spite of himself, Harry was quite curious about the statues: but there were more important things at the moment — Ron, Hermione...

'My friends —'

'Are safe,' Hopkins assured him. 'They will be perfectly safe just as long as they listen to Honeywell's instructions.'

'What's the Moulding Room?' Harry asked. 'Where did she take them?'

Hopkins smiled. 'All in good time,' he said. 'I promise.'

He waved his wand, which caused the blue-armed statue to spin around.

Harry noticed immediately who the statue resembled, and his blood went cold at the sight of it. It was an old man with dark brown eyes, and his legs were made of wood. 'Professor Banjeev?' he murmured. 'What the...'

The neck of the statue began rotating very oddly, and his eyes, Harry noticed, were beginning to glow a soft blue.

'Animatio,' Hopkins murmured, lifting his wand up high.

The statue's arms and legs began to move around like those of a string-puppet, though his head remained limp and lifeless.

'Profess Banjeev will be the final Echo I create,' Hopkins explained. 'He'll also be the first person I need to — you know — murder.' Hopkins smiled at the look of shock on Harry's face. 'Banjeev was always quite sceptical of our "security measures" — but lucky for me, he was alone in his scepticism. And in the end, it didn't really matter... Nima managed to scan him eventually — just like she did with everyone else...'

'Nima?' said Harry faintly. 'You mean the house-elf?'

'Nima,' Hopkins agreed. 'My loyal, humble servant. And the key to the whole plan.'

At that moment, the room was filled with a strange sound: it was a gravelly, guttural noise, sort of like the failing engine of a motorbike. The Echo-Banjeev was writhing around where he stood, his legs apparently pinned down by some invisible force.

'Nima is able to do a spell, you see,' Hopkins said, ignoring the writhing Echo. 'It is a very special ability that I have never seen before in the wizarding world. With a snap of her fingers, she can make a copy of any living person: their thought-patterns, their memories, their dreams... all replicated perfectly.

'The problem, of course, is that Nima can't transmute this "copy": she can't seem to turn it into a bodily form. And that,' Hopkins explained, 'is where I come in. I can give the Echoes flesh, I can give them blood... I am able to give them life.'

He pointed at the Echo-Banjeev, who suddenly fell limp for a moment. But Harry noticed that its chest was moving: the Echo was expanding and contracting... it was breathing.

'You're mental,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'You're completely mental. You're making your own personal army of slaves...'

'Slaves?' Hopkins said. 'Slaves? Harry, the control I have over these Echoes is nothing like the Imperius Curse, I can tell you — though I do regret using...' Hopkins suddenly trailed off.

'What's the Imperius Curse?' Harry asked.

Hopkins suddenly looked worried, perhaps afraid. 'I shouldn't have done it,' he muttered. 'But it was the easiest way — I mean, how else was I supposed to get you here?'