The light in the room went out and Professor Lupin, still clutching his phone in his hand, put his index finger to his mouth, ordering all the students gathered in the corner of the room to be absolutely silent. A soft sound, like a sick dog's whine, reached Harry's ears; turning his head to the right he met the terrified gaze of his friend. Ron was shaking madly, barely sitting where he was. He was pale; the color of his skin was slowly beginning to resemble the color of paint on the wall behind him.

"What's going on, Harry?"

Professor Lupin reprimanded them with a defiant glare, and Ron groaned again, but this time much more quietly. Harry swallowed, never taking his eyes off the teacher. The man turned the key in the lock with a trembling hand and peered cautiously through the small rectangular glass in the door, wanting to find out what was happening in the corridor. At the same time, three more shots reached all of them.

"Don't any of you dare to move," Remus, walking away from the door, took a few hesitant steps towards his students. "We're staying here until we are sure it's safe outside."

The woman's shrill cry from outside made everyone believe that they should not ignore the teacher's words. The man instinctively bent down, simultaneously moving away from the window in the door, pressing his back against the wall. One loud shot somewhere in the distance broke off a scream, followed by a deaf, terrifying silence.

Harry looked at the faces of his colleagues; Dean Thomas, who was closest to him, sat motionless, staring at his smartphone screen, corresponding furiously with someone. Bright light reflected in his terrified eyes, and his fingers moved quickly as he wrote the message. Seamus Finnigan, seated to Dean's right, stared fearfully at the closed door, breathing rapidly. Even from a distance, Harry knew that he was minutes away from looking exactly like Ron, who was still shaking next to him. Turning his head the other way, he looked at the other people gathered. Cho, with her face now pressed against her friend's shoulder, was sobbing softly while the other girl held her tightly, stroking her head. As her gaze met Harry's, the boy could see the tears streaming into her eyes. Then his attention was brought back to Ron, who was still shaking.

"Hermione," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Hermione's not here."

Harry looked around the room for his friend's face. But Ron, unfortunately, was right and the girl wasn't inside, though she should have had history classes with them. Was she going to stay away from class at all, and was she safe wherever she was right now? Has she forgotten about them completely, once again spending most of her break in the school library? Whatever was going on, Harry deeply hoped she hadn't encountered this madman who was terrorizing the entire school right now.

"Malfoy's not here, too," he whispered to his friend. Ron, despite all his horror, managed to snort in displeasure.

"He's not what I'm worried about," he said ironically. "People like him always fall on their feet."

"Boys."

Professor Lupin admonished them once again, pressing his index finger to his lips. Harry nodded at his request.

"I'm worried about her," Ron's voice was now softer than before, but also a lot more nervous. Harry raised his hand slightly and bent it, elbowing the boy's ribs. Ron reacted with a loud groan. "What..."

"Shut. Up."

The redhead closed his mouth with a soft gasp, turning his head away and looking at the closed door. He knew his friend was right. He could put them in danger with his talk, but he couldn't shake off the terrifying visions in which the girl who was so important to him was out there somewhere, at the mercy of some madman.

The crowd, which suddenly began to run in the opposite direction to where it was going, made Draco pause for a moment, looking around curiously around him. He was not the kind of person who thoughtlessly went where the majority were. He always tried to go against the tide, often exposing himself to harsh judgments about his surroundings. This time, he too didn't want to run with the crowd, with all those people, most of whom he sincerely hated. So, as he moved out of the way, he leaned his back against the cool wall behind him and watched calmly as the chaos took over the crowded corridor.

Yes, he heard strange bangs coming from the cafeteria, but then his brain gave him the idea that knowing life, someone had brought firecrackers back to the school grounds. This happened exactly two years earlier when the Weasley twins Fred and George decided to show off what they had built in their father's garage. He remembered perfectly well the panic they had caused, almost giving the old Professor McGonagall a heart attack. So Draco could have bet that this time it was their blunt brother Ronald, or their equally limited sister Ginevra, who had decided to enter the pages of the history of the school as the next generation of crazy pyromaniacs.

When the crowd thinned a little, he was able to look in the direction from which the students were running. Several of them screamed into the sky, causing Draco to gag. Why make so much noise about nothing? All these people acted as if they had never watched a fireworks display in their lives. By the way, if they were constructed by the Weasleys, he wouldn't have produced anything more than a groan of embarrassment on his own.

"What's going on there?"

Seeing the first-year boy running towards him, he decided to block his way and looked down at him. The boy collided with the blonde painfully, then raised his head and looked at him with eyes full of fear.

"Dude shoots in the cafeteria!" He replied, almost screaming. "He'll kill us all, you better run!"

Draco frowned as the boy stepped past him and quickly ran towards the nearest exit from school. But he still didn't move as he turned to follow him, and several more screaming people passed him, running right after the first year. The noises rang again, and this time Malfoy could tell that their source was much closer than before. Turning his head in that direction, he saw a young man he had never seen before. Coming around the bend that led to the cafeteria, he was holding what looked like a gun in his hand. The blonde instinctively took a step back, but could not take his eyes off the stranger. At the same moment, the man raised the gun and pointed it at the back of the girl running along the corridor. A shot was fired and the brunette was lying on the floor after a while, and a small pool of blood began to form under her dead body. In her face, paralyzed by fear, Draco recognized Pansy Parkinson, a girl who had been trying to date him a few years earlier.

When his body finally regained the ability to move, the boy jerked in place and began to retreat faster and faster towards the exit. However, he did it very carefully, taking care not to be in the eyes of the attacker. Taking advantage of the moment when he was busy jerking the door handle of one of the closed rooms, Draco retreated around the corner behind his back, making sure that there was no danger lurking in the corridor opposite. It was empty around him and the boy finally decided it was time to run away.

Just as he was about to turn around and start running forward, his attention was drawn to a piece of the shoe sticking out from behind a garbage can on the other side of the corridor leading in the opposite direction. Someone hid behind a large metal container, hoping that the hideout would be overlooked by a madman running around high school with a gun. Draco paused for a moment and looked at it more closely when a soft sob reached his ears.

He was convinced that if the attacker came to this place (and it was more than certain that he would), the person hiding behind the basket would not survive it. The corridor opposite was a dead end, and all the windows were high enough that a fleeing person would not be able to reach them to escape through them. Draco remembered the scene from a few minutes ago; Pansy lying motionless on the ground, red liquid pouring out from beneath her body... He should turn on his heel and blow as far away as he could while he had time to do so, but something prevented him from taking any step towards the exit. Instead, the same, inexplicable "something" pushed him forward, straight towards the hiding, still sobbing person.

The attacker around the corner was trying to get to the next room because the blonde's ears heard the familiar tugging on the door handle. At the same time, he decided to accelerate; a second later, running unnoticed, he was beside the metal crate.

Hermione Granger sat curled up, her arms wrapped around her knees. Sobbing softly, she tried to suppress her crying, knowing full well that whatever sound she made would only make her situation worse. When she looked up to see Draco Malfoy standing above her, she sobbed louder, which in turn forced the boy to raise his hand and put a finger to his mouth, ordering her to remain silent. The girl covered her mouth with her hand, and even more tears appeared in her eyes. The blonde bent over her so that his face was now directly above hers and he looked straight into her eyes.

"Get up."

His whisper was so firm that the girl rose from the ground, accidentally hitting the container standing next to her. The metal hit made a loud noise, making them both gasp at the thought of drawing attention to themselves. Without thinking, Draco grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her in the opposite direction, wanting to get them both out of the danger zone.

As they ran through the space between one and the other bend, they did not escape the bomber's attention. Seeing two new victims, the man raised his gun, aiming at them, then fired two quick shots. Hermione felt Draco's hand tighten around her wrist, but neither of them stopped. As they reached the wall that separated them from the shots, she heard Draco's voice come out of a soft but long string of curses. The boy unexpectedly stopped by the wall and leaned his shoulder against it; his hand released the girl's hand and rested on his thigh. As Hermione turned her head towards him, she saw that a trickle of blood was streaming out from under the long, slender fingers that were now pressed against his leg.

"Run," he looked at her, giving her a brief command. He moved, trying to take a step forward, but staggered instantly, almost falling to the ground. Hermione took a few steps toward the exit, but a moment later she hesitated.

She couldn't leave an injured boy alone to his fate. Moments ago, he saved her by literally extending his hand to her, helping her out of the death trap. Now he needed her help himself. He could not run, which made him an easy target for this freak.

The freak, who was just around the corner, was certainly on his way towards them.

So, she went back to the blonde and put her arm around him, pushing him slightly towards the corridor leading to the exit door. The boy cursed again, wincing in pain, and the hand that was still pressed against his thigh was already wet with the flowing blood. Even so, he still tried to walk, though it was with great difficulty.

After a few meters of this murderous effort, they stopped again against the wall. Draco leaned against her, already panting, and Hermione tilted her head back to where they were running from. The footsteps across the corridor grew louder, which meant the attacker was headed their way. The girl turned behind her, looking for a way out, hearing her own heart beating loudly. A few steps away was the library. If they could only get to it, they would have a chance to hide in it. Risking a lot, she embraced Malfoy, who was weakening more and more and directed him towards the nearest room. Once they were close enough, Hermione tugged desperately on the doorknob, the door swinging slightly open in front of it. Without thinking much, the girl put all her energy to push the injured Draco inside, then locked them from the inside, praying they would be safe there.

The rumble Ginny heard behind her was nothing new to her. Fred and George often made their own fireworks, so all sorts of shots, crackles, and other loud noises were part of her life. You could even say that when there was silence from her older brothers' room, everyone was much more worried than usual.

When the twins had brought homemade fireworks to school two years earlier to throw a fireworks display on the school's playground to celebrate a spring day, their prank touched almost all of the students. Minerva McGonagall nearly paid for it with a heart attack, and their janitor, Rubeus Hagrid, ended up in the hospital with mild hearing impairment. After all, Fred and George were still very much appreciated and liked, and the principal of the school personally made sure that they were admitted to a reputable college with the best possible physical and chemical profile.

However, this time, when the noise behind the girl's back was heard for the first time, the girl looked up from her plate and shifted it to the face of Luna Lovegood, who was sitting in front of her. The girl's eyes widened when she saw what was happening behind her red-haired friend's back. Ginny turned her head immediately, and the sight she found made her speechless.

The man she had seen a moment earlier was still standing at the cafeteria entrance, his jacket unbuttoned this time. His backpack was wide open at his feet, and he held a gun pointed at the ceiling in his hand raised above his head. Looking around, his gaze flickered over the gathered people, who turned their attention to him under the influence of the shot he had fired a few seconds earlier. As they slowly began to understand what was happening, a wave of panic swept through the room.

Then the man smiled and went on for what he was really there for.

Luna sprang up from her seat, as did Neville Longbottom, sitting with them. The chair the boy was sitting on flipped over, hitting the floor with a crash just as the next shot was fired. Ginny didn't know if she was more frightened by the sound of a chair hitting the floor, or the rumble of the body of the girl closest to the bomber falling to the ground. But she already knew that the man was there to kill people.

Screams filled the cafeteria. People jumped up from their seats, running towards the exit, avoiding the shooting man and thus risking injury. Moments later, two or even three more people were lying on the ground, and the madman with the gun took a step forward, now walking down the cafeteria. As Ginny rose from her seat, she noticed Luna and Neville were already making their way to the exit. Her friend, running blindly, was now perfectly in the line of fire. When the next shot was fired, another wave of screeching passed through the room, and Ginny slid off her chair, trying to get under the table as quickly as possible, disappearing from the assassin's line of sight. She had nowhere to run, and she didn't want to risk like the others. She was convinced that trying to escape through the main entrance was almost a suicide mission. Now that there were only a few students left inside the hall, she had a chance of surviving only if she was no longer obvious and hidden away. Crawling on all fours under the metal table, she took a deep breath, feeling her entire body tremble. Three more loud bangs filled the room, and the girl shivered more, closing her eyes for a few seconds. It should be over in a few minutes.

Judging from the loud footsteps in heavy military boots echoing oddly around the cafeteria, Ginny could tell that there were no students left around her. Opening her eyes, she leaned lower, trying to find a better position from which to observe her surroundings. The man paced the room, like someone who doesn't care that he had just killed some young people. He didn't seem to care that the police were probably on their way to catch him. He was walking slowly, enjoying what he had just done. Ginny's eyes widened, letting all the air out of her lungs. Her breath trembled, and she closed her mouth, refusing to make even the slightest sound. She was kneeling on the cold floor now, her hands pressed tightly to the ground, counting the killer's steps.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

Was he really going to walk around every inch of the room to find out that all of the people on the ground were dead?!

She wasn't going to cry. She never cried in an emergency. Her brothers taught her this; whenever she was a little girl and she allowed herself to cry, Fred, George, and even her beloved Charlie laughed at her, pointing out her "girly" manner. So, when she was six she stopped crying and learned to fight. Fighting was certainly a much better solution than crying. Fighting might have taken her somewhere.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

The man changed direction and was now moving away from the table under which the redhead was hiding. The girl let out another shuddering breath, feeling that her legs began to slowly ache. She moved her foot slightly to get rid of the unpleasant feeling, leaning even lower. The attacker was disappearing from her sight, and that disturbed her. She may not have seen him, but he may have had a perfect view of her. By changing the angle of view, she also tried to change her position slightly. If she can only bend one leg, she will be able to hide deeper and will be even safer. Moving very slowly, she held her breath for a few seconds.

She didn't feel her numb leg catch on the chair next to the table; the metal leg slid across the floor with a loud creak. Ginny closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, wincing deeply, hoping that the noise hadn't yet reached her attacker's ears, then exhaled and inhaled again. Fortunately, the steps she had so painstakingly counted before did not repeat. Taking it as a good signal, she opened her eyes and slowly turned her head in the direction where their tormentor was standing a moment ago.

His back was no longer on her table, his shoes were now pointing towards her. He stood still, not moving at all. Ginny wondered if that should worry her. In theory, if he had chosen her as his target, he should move towards her immediately, giving her no chance to escape. He should get rid of the witness, remove from his path a person who could harm him. Was the fact that he hadn't done it yet a good sign? The girl lowered her head, resting her forehead on the cool floor, and closed her eyes again.

Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen...

The sound of the footsteps was heard again and the redhead raised her eyelids, turning her head to the side. The man walked towards her, slowly, like a hunter stealing towards the game he hunts. Ginny turned her head harder just as one of the heavy boots kicked the chair next to the table, knocking it to the floor. The girl jumped in fear as the other shoe launched a kick at the table she was sitting under. Now without any shelter, she cringed tighter, not daring to look up. The attacker, on the other hand, stood over her without saying a word. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him raise his hand and guessed he was pointing his gun at her right now. Moments later, his shoe touched her shoulder, forcing her to roll over on her back. This time she was sure he was aiming at her.

For a few seconds she stared at the dark, round hole at the end of the gun in his hand, and one thought flashed through her mind: would she die right away, or would it take her a long time.

Either way, she knew it was her end.

But she wasn't going to cry or show any weakness. Tearing her eyes away from the barrel, she closed her eyes, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she could.

Then the last shot rang out in the empty cafeteria.