4

Harry pored over the book that would hopefully teach him how to transfigure a snake into a length of string. There was so much confusing information being packed into his skull that Harry was surprised steam wasn't coming out of his ears. Unfortunately, to his left, there were several grubby strings all lined up in front of Hermione. Her face was covered with poorly disguised smugness.

`The password's `Grindylow'- mind you remember it, Elliot.'

McGonagall. Harry hastily cleared away the pathetic attempt at Transfiguration as the portrait hole swung open. Eleven came through, in oversized robes and tie instead of her filthy dress and jacket. Those were presumably in the bag she carried.

All eyes turned towards her. Ron gave Eleven a friendly wave, which she hesitantly returned.

`Go and meet your housemates, Elliot,' McGonagall said, not unkindly, but still authoritively. Eleven stepped further into the room and Professor McGonagall left. Harry saw Lavender Brown lift back Parvati's hair and whisper into her ear, as Eleven stood nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

`Come and sit with us, Elliot,' Harry said cheerfully. Happy to escape the limelight, Eleven scurried over and sat down in an armchair that almost absorbed her.

`LaZboy,' she murmered.

Then Lavender stood up and walked over. She flicked her brown hair back, then opened her mouth into an unnaturally wide smile.

`Hello, I'm Lavender,' she said loudly. `You're new here. What's your name?'

`Elliot,' Eleven replied, shrinking further back into the armchair. Harry felt an instinctive urge to somehow drive Lavender away, like a irritating pigeon.

`Would you like to-' she giggled here, and looked back to Parvati. Parvati was insensible with silent laughter. `Would you like to hang out with us?'

Harry kept his fingers crossed Eleven would say no, and Hermione had sparks flying from her eyes. Ron's ears flushed redder and redder.

`No,' Eleven replied firmly, shaking her head and sitting up straighter.

And that was that for the rest of the evening, as Eleven looked through the supplies and wand McGonagall had issued her. Hermione ocaisionally chipped in with an enthusicastic comment such as `Ooh, that one's good- Read this before you start charms, it's a lifesaver-'

`Murder!' Wailed Nearly Headless Nick as he soared into the common room. `Dead, dead! Slaughtered in the Entrance Hall!' His head was fully detached in his distress.

`What?' Yelled Harry, his books tumbling off his lap as he jumped up. `The monster again?'

Eleven covered her ears against the noise.

Nick swooned dramatically, hand to forehead. `What else, dear boy? But this night, the victim is a Slytherin.'

The word was repeated with rising hysteria. Then McGonagall came charging in, robes gathered up in one hand. Her tartan socks had scarlet pom-poms at the top.

`Nicolas, I expected better of you than to stir up the students like this! All of you, with me,' she barked, and immediately the Gryffindors filed out. Eleven held onto Hermione's shoulder to try and stay anchored in the stampede to the door.

Mike couldn't get the image out of his head.

It reminded him of the roadkill he sometimes saw buzzards picking at- torn open, scattered about. No decay, not yet. But somehow the freshness made it so much more horrifying.

The worst part was the blood he managed to get on his shoes, thick and clotted. That, and the first-year's remaining eye, frozen open and staring. It seemed like the boy was staring at him.

All Mike had wanted to do was see Eleven; that was it. Find Eleven, collect Dustin and figure out how to get to Lucas and Will. Somehow get home.

Then he'd seen the torn corpse in the Entrance Hall. Claw marks all around- there was no doubt what had caused it.

The demogorgon was getting deadlier. All Mike had been able to do was stare at the exposed strings of tendons and ligaments for a minute, then ran to find a teacher, whilst feeling evil and sick for thanking God it was some other kid, and not Lucas.

Four houses worth of students were crammed into the dungeons. It was deemed the safest place, with it's easily defended doors. There was no question of students being forced through the Entrance Hall.

Dustin pushed through the crowd, scanning for Mike and Eleven.

Rumours flew about- who had found the body? What did it look like?

Dustin wanted no part in it.

A boy named Ernie had told him the house colours of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Then a smattering of freckles and a mop of ginger hair came into sight. Dustin sprinted after Ron and grabbed his sleeve. Ron jumped.

`Hey, Ron,' he panted. `Where's Elev- Elliot?'

`Hermione,' Ron answered. `They went to find you and your friend. I think she's in the Slytherin bit.' Ron seemed to muse for a second. `God help her.'

`Thanks. Here's some candy,' and Dustin tossed him a packet of Smarties smuggled into his robes.

Disciplined as always, the Slytherins were stuck in one solid mass.

`If your siblings care, they will come to you,' Snape said coldly as students begged to be let out of the group to check on family. `Moving around makes for inefficient searching.'

`Elliot? El?' Dustin called over the racket. She would be way easier to spot without that blonde wig. Hopefully the bossy girl with the space hair would be more visible…

`Dustin?' Eleven's voice, quiet as always, reached his ears.

`El! Hey! You're not dead!' Dustin said enthusiastically.

`Not dead,' Eleven agreed seriously. `Mike?' She asked hopefully, craning her neck. A boy jolted Dustin forwards as he shook his head.

`Hey, look where're you're going,' Dustin snapped. The boy stopped, and turned round. His eyes narrowed.

`You got in my way, Hufflepuff,' he snarled, pointed eyes getting pointier. He turned to Eleven and did an over-exaggerated sniff. Then turned to Hermione. `Mudblood,'he greeted her politely. A smirk replaced the ugly snarl.

`Malfoy, back off or I'll hex you,' Hermione snapped, gripping her wand to show she meant business. But Dustin saw, with shock, that her eyes were filled with tears.

Eleven got there first. Malfoy froze up. Only his eyes twitched. `What the-'

Then his robes flew up and his trousers fell around his ankles.

Despite the terror, laughter burst through the houses. Eleven held Malfoy still for a few seconds more before letting him go to tug up his trousers, cheeks burning.

`Mudblood, you'll pay for that, you'll pay-'

`How?' Dustin asked, grinning. `Her wand wasn't out.'

Malfoy seemed lost for words, then ran back to Crabbe and Goyle, who flanked him like shields. Crabbe's face was pink with suppressed laughter.

Eleven caught Hermione's eye and winked. It was terrible, all screwed and squinted up, but still recognisable as a wink.

Dustin laughed until his gut ached.

Mike could hear everyone laughing.

Unfortunately, he was on the wrong side of the heavy, locked door. On the wrong side and trying not to breathe too loudly as the demogorgon staggered through the corridor.

He had been so close, so unbearably close to making it to that door- all he'd done was stop to help a first year.

A girl with flaming hair and an empty look in her eyes. Her unconcious body was behind a statue of a one-eyed witch in the recovery position. Mike hadn't wanted to knock her out, but without any warning a jet of green light had blasted from the end of her wand.

Mike didn't have to be a wizard to know this was very bad indeed. Something- instinct, maybe- had told him not to run or dodge but to make sure she was too incapacitated to come after him.

So he'd slammed her head against the statue.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the right decision; a thick, vicous substance like ink had bubbled out of her mouth when her tiny body had hit the floor. It oozed from her nose. The black stuff gathered into a puddle on the floor and for a minute, it seemed to stare at him. Then it seeped into the wall through a tiny crack. And Mike had run down to the dungeons. He shouldn't have followed the girl; she had held her limbs in a horrible way. When the girl raised her wand, it looked like someone had tugged up her arm at the elbow. Her wrist and fingers were slack, her head was unnaturally tilted up, she was knock-kneed.

And the demogorgon had that same quality as it sluggishly moved through the corridor where Mike hid. He was crunched up in a corner, no way of escape if it found him.

A thought suddenly returned to him- the blood on his shoes. Would the scent attract the demogorgon? He shifted his shoe a little, and there was a sticky noise as his blood-covered shoe detached from the ground. The demogorgon came to a sudden halt. Mike froze.

Don't let me die.

It's eyeless head turned to him.

Don't let me die.

The head twitched up.

Please, don't let me die.

And the demogorgon ran towards him with a scream.