say please,” Charlie said, helpfully.
Ben tried again. Still nothing. He tried three more times, without success. It was as if the eye wasn't listening.
“You need to talk more to compensate for not using his name,” Natalie said.
Ben took a deep breath and composed himself. “My name is Ben Greenwood. I am the son of Jane and Greg Greenwood. If they have given family access to their lockers, then please open the door.”
The iris blinked twice. Ben suddenly felt he was being measured by something far older and more intelligent than the lockers downstairs. Ben was careful to maintain a level stare with the locker.
There was a loud click, and the edges of the locker door suddenly glowed yellow. The door swung open soundlessly.
“Oh my,” Natalie said, her hand going to her mouth.
The locker was far larger than their ones in every respect, but it was the contents inside that caused Natalie to gasp. There were clothes, books and bits of food scattered across the floor. Ben stepped inside and knelt down. It was clearly his mum's locker, and it was just as clear that it had been ransacked.
“I thought you said nobody could get in,” Ben said quietly, as he surveyed the damage.
“I didn't say it was impossible,” Natalie replied. She had also stepped into the locker. “I just said it was protected by some very powerful spells. Few people could break it.”
“Check this out, Ben,” Charlie said.
He was pointing to a photograph, stuck on the back wall, that had somehow survived the carnage.
It was Ben and his parents, standing outside his house. Ben was standing in the middle and both his parents had their arms around him. He couldn't have been more than six or seven years old and barely came up to their waists. He hadn't seen that photo before, and it tugged at his heart strings. Ben stared at the photo until he realised his eyes were in danger of watering.
“Shall we tidy up?” Natalie asked, her voice gentle.
“Yeah, let's do that.”
Nobody commented on his slightly croaky voice.
There were hangers for the clothes, and plenty of room to stack the books.
“Woah, look at that,” Charlie said.
Hidden amongst the clothes was a spellshooter. The long twisted barrel looked slimmer than usual, as did the handle. Despite the treatment the locker had received, the spellshooter shone like new. Inside the spellshooter's orb a handful of spell pellets floated.
Ben picked up his mum's spellshooter and placed it reverently on one of the hangers so that it dangled from the handle.
They stepped out of the locker and shut it. An awkward silence had fallen between them. Both Charlie and Natalie gave Ben a little distance.
Ben forced aside memories of his parents that had suddenly resurfaced. “Let's see if we can find my dad's locker.”
“Are you sure?” Natalie asked.
Ben's determination came flooding back. “Absolutely. That's what we're here for.” He returned to the exact spot in the middle of the locker room where he'd spotted his mum's locker watching him and continued forwards. There wasn't much left to walk, so he took it slowly.
It took just one step. This time, it was far more obvious. A locker on his right side, right at the back, was staring at him. Ben, Charlie and Natalie hurried over.
There were even more scuffs on this locker and half a stone was missing near the base. Its eye, Ben noticed, had a red gash running across it.
“Looks like someone tried getting in this one too,” Charlie commented. “Did they succeed?”
“Let's find out,” Ben said.
He repeated the same command as before. There was a loud click, the edges of the locker door glowed, and the door swung slowly open. Three pairs of eyes looked eagerly into the locker as it revealed itself.
It was completely empty.
Ben stepped inside. The locker was the size of a small room. There were no clothes, no books, and no photograph.
Despite finding nothing, Ben smiled grimly. “I bet my dad got his stuff away before they could trash it.”
“Good for him,” Natalie said.
“Doesn't help us much, though, does it?” Charlie said.
Charlie was right. There was nothing here that could help them. Ben had to swallow his disappointment. He had known it was a long shot, but was still secretly hopeful of some sort of lead or clue. He trailed a hand along the back stone wall, feeling the coarseness beneath his fingers. Not long ago, his dad would have come here almost every day.
“We should get out of here,” Charlie said. “We must have