Harry Potter and the Hall of Echoes [COMPLETED]

Chapter 18

The Quidditch pitch at Dartford was little more than a vast, open field, located right behind Professor Banjeev's wooden ranch. The pitch was surrounded by a ring of tall, oak trees, though the trees were dwarfed by the golden poles and hoops that lay at either end.

As the students all hurried excitedly to the wooden seats — which were right at the edge of the ranch's backyard — Harry noticed Banjeev himself coming out from the back door. He was accompanied by a Nightwelp: the maroon-coloured creature, with pointy ears and a fork-like tail.

As the Nightwelp began to chew on one of Banjeev's wooden legs, Banjeev spotted Harry in the distance, and gave him a hearty wave.

'Those are weird,' said Ron, looking over at the Nightwelp. 'Better hope Hagrid doesn't see that thing — I don't want to see any roaming around Hogwarts...'

'Ouch!' said Harry suddenly, reaching for his side — it felt like someone had just been kicked in the hip.

'Harry!' said Hermione. 'What's wrong?'

'I don't know,' said Harry slowly. 'Ow!'

Yet again, he felt the same, sudden pain; he rummaged around in his pocket and pulled something out...

'What the —' said Hermione, as Harry held up the Mystery Box. 'How come you've got that with you?'

'I don't know,' said Harry. 'It must've been in my robes...'

The box was currently vibrating angrily, like a box of buzzing hornets — its lid was threatening to burst...

'What is this?' Harry asked Ron. 'Seriously, mate — what is this?'

'I — I don't know,' Ron sputtered. 'That was the whole point: the woman who sold it told me it was a mystery...'

'Where's Professor Dumbledore,' said Hermione worriedly. 'Oh, gosh — Help! Help!'

But before anyone nearby could hear Hermione's cries, something burst out from the Mystery Box with enough force to knock Harry on his feet; the thing doubled in size, then tripled, then tripled again — until it was ten times the size of the box it had come from...

As Harry looked up at it from his place on the ground, he realised he knew exactly what it was: it was nothing other than a —

'A chicken?' said Ron.

The white-feathered chicken looked first at Hermione, then at Ron — then it clucked very angrily at both of them.

It went up to Harry, apparently harbouring hostility towards its owner, because it began pecking Harry endlessly on the head.

'Ow! Ow! Ow!' cried Harry. 'Someone — do — something...'

'Wingardium Leviosa!'

The chicken was now floating in the air: standing behind it was a bemused-looking Blake.

Blake maneuvered the chicken until it was a good distance away, then he dropped it back to the ground. After a moment of confusion, the chicken began clucking again, then it began sprinting over to the bushes in Banjeev's front garden.

'Guatemala?' Blake asked Harry. 'You've been there before?'

'Er, I have,' Ron replied. 'I went for a holiday.'

Blake laughed. 'Well, I haven't seen a Chicken Box since I was five years old,' he said. 'That's the last time I went back over to visit.'

'Visit who?' Hermione asked.

'My family, of course,' Blake explained. 'My mum is from Guatemala: that's why we've got that weird transforming box thing, and all that kinda stuff... Anyway — we all ready to play some Quidditch?'

X

It was clear from the outset that the Dartford students were more geared towards academics, because half of them could barely fly a broom. The Exchangers looked better by comparison, but this was not saying much at all - one of the Beaters was staring at his club like he'd never seen one before.

Ron, as captain, had decided to marshall together all the Chasers and Beaters — and Harry was amused by the serious expression on his face.

'All right you,' — Ron pointed to a tall, sandy-haired boy — 'try and switch up the play to the far side... and you, er, Kevin —?' (Ron clearly hadn't got to know the other Exchangers very well) 'well, you're kind of small, so you're probably agile: use your speed to draw an opponent away from the game...'

After Ron had finished his speech, he flew over to Harry. (Harry noticed the other Exchangers looking over at Ron and grumbling privately amongst themselves, but he decided it was in the best interests of the game not to point this out.)

'Harry — just... do your thing, yes?' Ron said to him fervently. 'It's down to you to catch that Snitch... Looks like Blake's the Seeker, so try and take him out.'

'Take him out?' said Harry.

'Yeah, you know,' said Ron, 'within the rules, and all that... Oh — sorry, Harry... looks like they need me...'

Professor Honeywell had floated up to the middle: she called over Ron and Blake, who shook each other's hands; Blake looking quite bemused at the fierce expression on Ron's face.

'Three... two... one... PLAY!'

Honeywell threw up the Quaffle, and Ron was the first to catch it — he passed it to Kevin, who passed it back; Ron then speeded up the pitch...

Harry crouched into position as he sped off towards a tall oak tree. He noticed that Blake was tailing right behind him. Blake was much better than he'd made out: he was easily the strongest player in their team...

Beneath them, in the stands, Harry could see the faces of Hagrid and Dumbledore — he saw a cheering Hermione, standing amongst a group of second-year girls... he saw Professor Banjeev, seated comfortably on a swing-chair in his backyard.

To the groans of the Exchangers below, Honeywell had blown her whistle to call a Dartford goal: Harry heard a distant cry of frustration from Ron.

As Harry took a sharp turn back around, he noticed a slight glimmer next to the hoop on the far side...

And so with an eager grin, his hair fluttering wildly behind his ears, Harry raced towards the Golden Snitch.

THE END