Kreacher, now perched on top of Astor's shoulder, urged him to run as fast as he could and not turn back. Unsure of why but willing to listen to the house-elf, Astor sprinted down the hall, keeping the black spear close to him in his right hand. When they were out of earshot of the screeching blood-dripped statue, Astor paused to gather air into his lungs. In his weakened state, the run had taken more out of him than he expected; he panted and heaved, trying to still his racing heart.