ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

50〝fifty〞

IT WAS A FEW MOMENTS before Ellis realized that something was actually someone, in spite of "it" shrieking when they collided. With all the magical objects that talked, it wasn't immediately obvious.

"What do you think you're doing running around like that, Miss Grindelwald?" chastised Professor McGonagall, her hat askew, her lips pursed dangerously thinly as she rubbed her torso. A Gryffindor scarf was wrapped around her neck; she was evidently on her way to the match.

"Sorry, Profess—"

A twinge shot through Ellis's leg as she staggered to her feet: she had twisted her ankle—but she couldn't have forgotten about it faster.

"I smell blood...I SMELL BLOOD!"

Without thinking, Ellis blurted out, "It's going to kill someone, Professor!"

"What—?"

But Ellis, half jogging, half limping, was dragging Professor McGonagall along, toward the library—toward the chilling, incorporeal voice. It had become more malicious than ever, and her only consolation was that she now had a teacher with her. Yes, Ellis thought, a teacher could surely do something about it. But she hadn't gone three steps before Professor McGonagall tugged her hand out of Ellis's grasp, looking livid. Ellis gazed beseechingly into her flashing eyes, trying to ignore her flared nostrils and the severe glare piercing through those square-shaped spectacles.

"Professor, please—"

"This is plain absurdity, Miss Grindelwald," said Professor McGonagall impatiently, seemingly deaf to the desperation in Ellis's voice and blind to her finger pointing towards the library. "Now, explain your—"

Two loud thuds and a clatter suspended Professor McGonagall's speech. She gazed unblinkingly at Ellis, her face suddenly plagued by horror. Without delay, she flung herself around the corner whence the noise came—where Ellis had been pointing—Ellis hobbling painfully after her, clinging onto the wall for support. She heard Professor McGonagall gasp. Several seconds later, Ellis did so too.

Professor McGonagall had one hand clutched to her chest and the other clapped over her mouth. At Ellis's arrival, she threw out the latter arm to halt her progress. Ellis didn't know what good that did; she could still see, just a couple of feet from them, poking out from the next intersection, two figures back-facing them, keeled over on the ground, so stationary they might as well have been sculpted out of stone.

"Stay here," said Professor McGonagall.

While she swept forward to examine the bodies, Ellis stared hard at the ceiling. Could the owner of the voice really be responsible for this attack? For all the attacks? Ellis listened with utmost care, hoping to pick out something again. If she knew where it went, perhaps—

"...finally...finally..."

And it was gone in a heartbeat.

"Professor?"

"What is it, Miss—? Miss Grindelwald!"

Sporting a terribly worried expression, Professor McGonagall scurried back to Ellis, who had sank to the floor, staring nervously at the flagged tiles, looking quite pale. The blood-chilling voice had just passed beneath there, sounding royally satisfied.

"Are you—?"

"I-I think it went that way," said Ellis shakily, indicating the direction from which they came.

"What d'you mean 'it'? How—?"

"It, him, her—I don't know, but I heard it. It was going there—" She pointed again, her finger aquiver.