"Shit," he muttered, crouching low and approaching the table. He'd look in and see how it was going. If the boys were faring badly, he'd rejoin. If they were holding their own, he'd go to the office. Popping his head over the table, he surveyed the room. There was, in fact, a body burning along the wall near the Chamber doors. Potter, still looking like Adrian and Blaise were facing off against Hela. Theo and Weasley were going up against Sybille. It appeared as if the two had figured out that the bargain had been broken or had determined that death would be preferable, as the curses being fired off in every direction by every party (but for Potter, the righteous idiot) were definitively Not Nice. He watched for a few seconds before deciding that the fights were going about as well as they could and his continued absence wouldn't make a difference. He turned and sprinted for the door behind the table, pulling it open to reveal a spiraling staircase and torchlight. With a deep breath, hating stairs to the very core of his being, he ran. Up and around, over and over, for what felt like ages, before nearly slamming face-first into a heavy wooden door.