Mikey didn't notice Spencer stepping forward until the spells stopped shooting out from beside him and his name was spoken hoarsely. He looked up at the elves stumbling backwards, deep holes peppering their chests, and then froze as he took in what they'd been forced to leave behind.
The bloody mess of something was lying in a wet heap on the grass, entrails spilling out in all directions, slick, shiny, and ruptured in themselves. There was no way to identify what it was, or had been, only a moment to hope that its demise hadn't been as painful and protracted as it had sounded.
"It's gone," he said, taking a few steps back blindly, trying to control his stomach. There was nothing they could do. Except maybe - he gathered the last of what he had and cast out flames that raged sharp and fast before burning out quickly. The smoke made his eyes sting but it was worth it to know that by the time the house elves reached the corpse it would be a blackened mess.
There was no way he was leaving them to glut themselves if there was any chance it had been a student.