When the monster struck a blow, Conor felt the sting of it in his own fist.
When the monster held Harry’s arm behind his back, Conor had felt Harry’s muscles resisting.
Resisting, but not winning. Because how could a boy beat a monster?
He remembered all the screaming and running. He remembered the other kids fleeing to get teachers.
He remembered the circle around him opening wider and wider as the monster told the story of all that he’d done for the invisible man.
Never invisible again, the monster kept saying as he pummelled Harry.
Never invisible again. There came a point when Harry stopped trying to fight back,
when the blows from the monster were too strong, too many, too fast, when he began begging the monster to stop.
Never invisible again, the monster said, finally letting up, its huge branch-like fists curled tight as a clap of thunder.
It turned to Conor. But there are harder things than being invisible, it said.
And it vanished, leaving Conor standing alone over the shivering, bleeding Harry.
Everyone in the dining hall was staring at Conor now. Everyone could see him, all eyes looking his way.
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