My eyelids are heavy when I wake up. I lift up my head and look around. I'm in the corridor outside of the hospital wing. On a normal day, this passageway is bustling with people. But today, not one individual is in sight. My mind is whirring with the facts of the night previous. My Father. The dark mark. The box... The box! Where is it? I pull myself up onto my feet and splash through a lake of my own blood. I think I know what happened. Someone must have hit me with a curse, and I must have fallen and hit my head. I rub my temple and hurry along the deserted hall. I stop outside the trophy room. I peer in. No one. 

           I creep along the rows and rows of old quidditch trophies. There, in front of a large, ornate podium, sits a small metal box. I let out a sigh of relief and stoop over to pick up the box containing 1/7 of Voldomort's soul. A voice carries across the room. 

        " Andrew!? " 

    I freeze. 

      " ...Yes?"

 " The adults! They've disappeared!"