The Veil of Shadows and blood

Chapter 7: The Third Murder

The grip around Soren Desmond's throat tightened as he struggled against his attacker, but his frail body couldn't keep up. The hands that pinned him to the floor were strong, relentless. Panic surged through him as he fought for breath, his glowing blue eyes wide with terror.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. It's him, the killer. He had thought he was safe after Draco's death, that the murders might finally cease. But now, he knew he was wrong.

Soren's weak fists pounded helplessly against his attacker, but it did little to stop the brute force overpowering him. His vision blurred as he gasped for air, his frail body convulsing in fear. The killer grabbed something nearby—wires. Thin, sharp metal wires gleamed coldly in the dim light. In one swift motion, they wrapped around Soren's body below the face, binding him tightly.

The wires dug into his skin, slicing deep as blood began to seep from the cuts. Soren whimpered, his entire body shaking as the pain shot through him like lightning. His body screamed for mercy, but the wires only tightened, pulling against him like a marionette being twisted and tortured.

The killer knelt over him, an eerie smile spreading across their face as they tugged on the wires, watching the boy's blood flow freely. Soren's breathing became ragged, his heart pounding in his chest. He coughed, blood splattering from his lips as the strain on his already delicate body worsened.

"No! Please!" he managed to gasp, desperation clawing at him. But the attacker merely tilted their head, a twisted glint in their eyes.

"Just a little longer," they said in a voice that was both mocking and sweet, as if savoring the moment. "You'll understand soon."

As Soren felt the world begin to fade, he caught a glimpse of something—a flash of light reflected on the wires that trapped him. It sparked a memory, a distant echo of a warning he had heard earlier, but it slipped through his fingers like sand.

Get out! Run! a voice in his mind urged, but his body was too weak, too broken to respond. The last thing he saw was the figure looming over him, whispering something that sounded like an apology, though the words were lost in the ringing in his ears.

And then darkness swallowed him whole.

As the staff discussed their next steps, a group of Slytherin students entered, their faces drawn and terrified. Among them was Pansy Parkinson, her expression one of shock as she took in the scene. "Soren is dead," she said, her voice trembling. "They killed him."

The room fell silent as the weight of her words sank in, an almost palpable sorrow hanging in the air. McGonagall's heart sank further. Soren had been a student with immense potential, one whose life had been cut short too soon.

"We need to gather every piece of information we have," McGonagall said, her voice ringing with determination. "We cannot let fear rule our halls. We must honor Soren's memory by ensuring this doesn't happen again."

Students shuffled back to their houses, the haunting shadows of loss trailing behind them. As they moved through the corridors, whispers of Soren's death mingled with those of Harry and Draco, each name adding to the growing list of sorrow that echoed through Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, deep in the dungeons, the figure responsible for the chaos watched from the shadows, a twisted smile playing on their lips. They had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams, but this was only the beginning. The game had only just begun, and they were determined to keep playing.

As the castle settled into an uneasy quiet, Soren's lifeless body lay alone in the dim light of the Slytherin dormitory, a tragic victim of a killer whose thirst for destruction would not be quenched until the last breath was taken.