Per 
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Harry feels it, there is always something. He hears the breathing, almost feels it, but when he turns the light on… Silence. Absolutely nothing is there and Harry, only being 13, thinks he is going mad. Again and again, this happens every night for every night for 129 days. Sleep was a luxury for him.
On the 129th night of this nightmare, it was there. Each night he hid under the bed, watching, waiting for his opportunity. And tonight he showed himself. As always Harry was in bed listening to the breathing, but then it stops. He knows it is getting up. BANG! It puts its heavy foot on the beige carpet, then lifting it to reveal the half burnt black carpet, bubbling underneath his foot. It leans over to the small just turned teenager, and in its long rasping voice it says its final words. "YOOU SHAALL TAKE MYYE PLACCE."
