Ishiki's blade hung suspended in the air, invisible edge trembling mere centimeters from what should have been flesh.
They didn't have faces.
Where human features should exist—eyes, nose, mouth or any obvious feature—there was only smooth wood grain.
The realization struck with the weight of absolute wrongness.
These weren't people. Had never been people.
The two figures stood motionless in the alley, their forms carved from wood into humanoid shapes with disturbing precision.
Their joints bent at proper angles, fingers possessed correct articulation, torsos that suggested musculature without truly possessing it.
They were terrifyingly human like puppets.
"Fall back!" Filch's voice cracked through the silence like breaking ice.
Ishiki jerked backward, blade still raised, as the wooden figure he'd been about to strike suddenly smiled. It was a terrible grin carved into grain as if it had always been there.
Then, both the puppets collapsed.
