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Tom Riddle looked out through the eyes of Ginny Weasley.
Something new, something- not right. His monster wasn't the only one roaming Hogwarts. And a new body was running through the halls; dirty and impure. Not just a muggleborn- an actual muggle. How did it get in?
Tom spurred Ginny onwards and she unsteadily walked towards the source of the pounding footsteps. Along a corridor, through a tapestry, up a flight of concealed stairs-
Found you.
A muggle in a red jacket ran, breath wheezing out of his chest. It's jacket flew out behind like a cape, and something was following it with heavy, lumbering strides.
The monster was just around the corner.
And then it came into sight; a panic reponse sparked in Ginny Weasley's brain, which Tom immediately dulled. If she had too strong an emotional reaction to something, it would break the possession.
Something white and skinny and muscled chased the muggle- it reached out a long claw towards it, and in desperation the muggle shot a few pebbles at it. Tom watched, amused. Then even he felt a slight jolt of nerves when the monster opened up it's face, a shriek ripping from it's throat. Strands of saliva landed wetly on the ground. He took a step back; this body was mortal. With him inside it, if the Weasley girl died, he'd be gone too.
The muggle screamed with fear, a thin, reedy yell. And then it was caught, like a fish on a hook. The muggle thrashed and kicked, and tried to throw the slingshot. It missed by miles, thumping into a tapestry and then breaking apart dramatically when it struck the ground. Tom could see the muggle's second scream of terror building up in it's throat-
And they were gone. Just like that. One second there, and then the air seemed to be settling around the empty hole the two figures left.
Tom frowned; Apparation wasn't possible in Hogwarts.
Hopefully that monster wouldn't be a threat to his Basilisk. And then he was too weak to hold on; Tom released Ginny Weasley, and she collapsed to the ground.
`You three hide here,' Hermione ordered bossily, pointing to a broom cupboard. It was larger than the one they'd landed in, but no picnic. And Harry thought it was a little unneccessary- there was still an hour and a quarter before they had to worry about students coming out of lessons. Then again, a year's experience of Hermione had taught him better than to argue when she was set on something.
But Eleven seemed sick- her face drained of all colour when she saw the cupboard, and breaths jerked from her lungs in a harsh rhythm.
`Eleven?' Hermione asked, concern filling her face. By that point Eleven had started to shiver.
`Bad,' she said, rooting herself to the ground so no one could push her into the cupboard. Then something added even more panic to the mix- the sound of leather shoes clacking on the floor.
`Bloody hell,' Ron muttered. McGonagall was only round the corner- she'd be upon them in a couple of seconds, at most.
And then McGonagall saw them. In an attempt to seem more wizard-like, Dustin whipped off his cap and threw his rucksack into the cupboard. The elderly witch came to a sudden halt and took in the scene. Then her face of thunder descended.
`Potter. Granger. Weasely. What on earth are you doing?' She barked at them. Her gaze snapped to the others. `Who might you three be?'
Harry prayed the others would keep their mouths shut and let him to the talking.
`This is Mike, Dustin and, um, Elliot,' Harry said, before cursing inwardly. Ron used the cover of robes to stamp on his foot.
McGonagall's eyebrows dissappeared into her grey hairline.
`Elliot? For a girl?' Hermione's hair was going frizzier.
`They're- American,' Harry said limply, then carrying on in what he hoped was a stronger tone. `They said they ran away to Hogwarts because their parents put bars on their windows, and, and wouldn't give them food.'
Despite it being March in Scotland, Harry noted he seemed rather hot. There was a long, long silence. Then-
`I'm not quite sure what to make of Elliot,' Proffessor McGonagal said,`but she certainly seems in need of some food. I'll take you down to Professor Dumbledore.'
At the mention of food, Eleven's ears pricked up. Harry could just imagine a wagging tail.
`Eggos?' She asked hopefully.
`Hm? Oh, I'm certain we could rustle up some eggs somewhere. Yes, I think you'll be coming to the hospital wing. Michael and Dustin, I'll ask Professor Snape to escort you.'
Eleven looked worried as she was led away from Mike. He gave her an encouraging nod, and the corner of her pink dress dissapeared around the corner.
`Bloody hell, Snape coming to take you!' Ron groaned, putting a fist up to his forehead.
`You'll have to get your stories straight,' Hermione said, chewing on an end of hair as she spoke. `Starting with your names. Michael and Dustin, um-'
`Clarke,' offered Dustin.
`Yes, you can use that as your name. But you're muggles, how can we pass you off as wizards?'
A sudden change came over Mike- he seemed smugger somehow. Prouder. `Eleven can cover for us. She's amazing.'
`Yeah, but if you lot get put in different houses,' Ron shrugged. `You're screwed.'
`Houses?' Asked Mike, the proud look fading.
`Yeah. Gryffindor-' Ron raised his hand,`Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, which is the evil house.'
`Evil?' Commented Mike, his face sinking deeper into a worried frown. `What if we get put in that one?'
Hermione's voice rose, shrill and high. `It shouldn't matter! Inter-house relations should be promoted and rivalries are-'
`Not one good wizard has come out of that house,' interrupted Harry. `You might get put with us or in Ravenclaw. Maybe Hufflepuff.'
`And what do we have here?' A hand clamped down on Harry's shoulder.
They all jumped. Dustin let out a little shriek. Snape bore down on all of them, a sour expression between his greasy curtains of hair. `Michael and- Dustin?'
Dustin smiled weakly, showing off his lack of teeth. `Yeah. Yeah, thatsh us.' His lisp seemed to come out more when stressed. Snape smirked at the gaps.
`Got in the way of a muggle dentist, did you?'
Hermione flushed. Her hands twitched to her wand. Harry recalled the incident where she'd set Snape on fire, and pinched his leg sharply to keep the laugh locked inside.
`With me,' Snape ordered, and his hands shot out, keeping Mike and Dustin in vice-like grips. There was zero doubt of bruises.
Harry, Ron and Hermione could only watch as the others were dragged in the opposite direction.
Mike wondered if he could jump out of a window without killing himself.
`See, I called you Gandalf cause of, cause of the beard,' Dustin chuckled, gesturing at his own chin. Snape's face had twisted into sour glee, whilst Dumbledore's face was scarily impassive as he viewed Dustin through half moon spectacles.
`He didn't mean to be rude,' Mike said hastily, as heat swept over his face. Then regretted opening his mouth as Dumbledore's eyes moved to him.
`And yet, sadly, accidental rudeness often occurs,' he said mistily. `Don't do it again. What are your names?'
`Dustin and Mike Clarke, sir,' Dustin said, clearly trying to make up for the Gandalf crack earlier on.
`And Professor McGonagall informed me that she has your sister down with Madame Pomfrey. Is there anyone else I should know about?'
`Yeah, our other brother, Lucas. He went off alone.'
The misty look dissapeared from Dumbledore's eyes. `Alone? At a time like this?'
Mike nodded. `We need to get him back.'
`The stupidity of teenagers who think they know everything,' declared Snape loudly,`is pitiful. Clarke, if your brother was foolhardy enough to go out unaccompanied, he is as good as Petrified. He could even be the first life taken by the monster. No resources could possibly be wasted upon him.'
That was when Dustin and Mike made the silent conclusion that not a single adult in this crackhouse was to be trusted.
Eleven tried, with some difficulty, to figure out how to eat a hard boiled egg.
Her small teeth bit down on the shell as McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey conferred on the other side of the curtain.
`Poppy, what's the matter with her? She's filthy, bald for whatever reason, she doesn't look like she's had a square meal in months.'
`I don't know, Minerva. There's certainly some trauma, but if her parents abused her and her brothers that's to be expected. I don't think there's anything we can do apart from trying to keep her and her brothers together- of course, the Sortin Hat has the final word- And maybe we should feed them all up a little.'
The curtain swished back, the rings clacking on the metal rail. Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGongal saw Eleven picking shell out from between her teeth.
`You need to peel it,' McGonagall informed her, before making the motions with her hands. Eleven frowned, watching intently. Then her face cleared, and she successfully navigated her way around her first boiled egg.
Elliot seems rather endearing, McGonagall would later write down in her letters to her sister. If with a ridiculous name.
Next came the sorting.
Eleven, Mike and Dustin all stood before the dusty hat, taken prematurely out of Dumbledore's Office. Eleven had her wig off, and stared distrustfully at the noisy little objects balanced on tables. She wished her telekinesis would make them stop, but nothing happened if she tried.
Eleven reached out a hand and held onto Mike's.
`Michael Clarke,' McGonagall read out authoritively. Reluctantly, Mike slid up to the stool, perched on top of it, and dropped the hat over his ears. What would happen here? If there was anything the last week or so had taught him, it was to always expect-
What do we have here? Hmm, no magic in this one. Mike jumped at the voice rattled around his ears. It could read his mind! How? Yes, I can read your mind. And I know your secrets, muggle.
Don't tell anyone. We need to find Lucas, Mike thought, terrified of what the hat could give away. A bark of laughter rang in his head.
A muggle trying to be a wizard! Well, I could keep that a secret…
Mike's heart jumped. Would you also mind keeping me with Dustin and Eleven?
Sorry, only one favour per sorting!
`Ravenclaw!' The hat roared. Mike swore under his breath as Dustin took the podium.
Dustin's turn was far shorter.
`Hufflepuff!' The hat shouted the minute it touched Dustin's springy curls.
Keep me with Eleven, please keep me with Eleven, Mike prayed silently as she tiptoed up to the stool. Eleven picked up the heavy leather hat, and it fell over her ears.
Silence, and more silence, and more silence.
Mike felt the butterflies in his stomach turn into griffins, as he started to count- just for luck.
The rip in the brim opened up, and called out with horrible finality, `Gryffindor!'
