The Games
The platform raises up at her feet, and the ground comes into view above her.
A great black lake stretches out before her eyes. Seemingly unending in its depths, with the ruins of a castle rising up at its center. A staircase stands before each of the tributes, leading directly into a window of the castle. To her back, there is solid ground, and the dark expanse of woods it leads to. Shadowed and foreboding, the forest doesn’t seem any more appealing than the ruined castle does, but it is the castle that will hold the weapons, and therefore where the bloodbath will be taking place.
Thirty-five. Thirty-four. Thirty-three.
The holographic numbers count down the seconds remaining. To Harry’s right is Delacour, to her left is Flint. Colin, Cho, Cedric- None of them are anywhere in sight.
Twenty-one. Twenty. Nineteen.
They agreed not to make meeting up their priority. Too much chaos would take place at the bloodbath, and it would be a suicide mission trying to find all their members in time. The final agreement was to split up first, and find each other the best they could afterwards.
Seven. Six. Five.
Harry knows she should be bracing herself. But her mind is numb, as are the rest of her senses. There is only the furious pounding in her ears, of blood roaring through her veins as she tries not to collapse on the spot.
Three. Two. One.
Both Delacour and Flint shoot straight for the stairs, but Harry is unable to move right away- A saving grace, or perhaps a fatal mistake. For once just enough time has been given for the tributes to make their moves, the two dozen sets of stairs give an ominous creak. At first, Harry thinks they might give out entirely, sending anyone who rushed onto the stairs plummeting straight into the frigid waters of the lake. Instead, the stairs begin lifting up, tilting in the direction of the castle so that they are no longer connected to the tributes’ platforms.
Once Harry regains enough wits about her, she can see the brilliance in this. Even as the movement of the stairs begins gaining speed, the tributes who did not hesitate to step on them are managing to stumble their way down, using the railings for support. They, the ones who were most eager to get their hands on weapons before the others, will be rewarded for their bloodthirstiness by being given a staggering head start in the race. The tributes who were not as quick in hopping onto the steps must now wait for the stairs to descend back down if they wish to collect weapons, but by the time they make it to the castle, the first portion of the tributes will have already armed themselves and will be waiting for them.
The tributes who remained on the ground seem to come to the same conclusion as Harry has, because within five seconds of the stairs lifting themselves into the air, blurry figures all around her are shooting off their pedestals and retreating straight into the dark forest.
Harry follows suit. The woods aren’t too thick so far, so it’s easy to keep up a speedy pace. Harry dares not stop whatever the cost, choosing to allow her sleeves to get torn up by some brambles rather than pause with her running. She knows all too well that pausing when running like mad can have exhaustion dropping on a person like dead weight all at once, and she has no plans to go out at the hands of a thirteen year-old just because she couldn’t catch her breath.
A blood-curdling scream has her stumbling, though she does manage to regain her balance before she can fall. Another scream sounds from the distance- And a cannon goes off, signaling the death of a tribute. The games have officially begun.
The singing of swords, the twang of bowstrings. The hollow design of the forest has the sound echoing off the trees, it is terrifying not knowing whether the latest swish of a blade being unsheathed is coming from far away or directly behind her.
When Harry thinks she’s put enough distance between herself and the other tributes, she slows down just a bit, moving from a panicked run into a steady jog. Her lungs are working overtime; She doesn’t think she’s ever been so out of breath before, and that’s saying something. Harry’s just begun searching her surroundings for a place to rest, when a small blur comes hurtling out of the brambles and knocking her right off her feet.
“GAHH!”
“Fuck- No, Colin, cut it out!” Harry shrieks, tackling the boy who didn’t realize he had crashed into and responded by pummeling his tiny fists into her sides. “Colin, it’s me! We’re supposed to be allies, remember?”
Colin’s panic finally dies down when it sets in that Harry isn’t some older tribute who’s about to kill him. “Sorry,” he gasps out, out of breath, just like her. Then he breaks down into sobs and buries his face into her chest.
“Hey, calm down, it’s-” Harry cuts herself off from saying it’s alright, because that’s quite possibly the stupidest thing she could say in this situation. Colin is clearly not alright, none of them are, but there is one assurance Harry can give him. “You’re alive,” she tells him, and holds him tight. “We’re both alive. We survived the bloodbath. Now we need to move, okay? We need to find someplace to stay for the night.”
They have no weapons. After the thirteen and fourteen year-olds, Harry is the weakest person in the arena. She is good at dodging, but that won’t do much for her when Carrow and Delacour and all the others who fight with short-range weapons realize defenseless Harry and Colin make for easy prey.
With an optimistic mind like that, something was bound to go wrong. At some point, amidst their exhaustion, either Colin or Harry herself must have steered them slightly back towards the black lake, because they both end up freezing when they catch sight of the Careers who’ve wandered away from the bloodbath. Now that the initial battle’s been over with, Capitol hovercrafts are descending upon the open rivers to collect the bodies, and the Careers have likely dispersed to go hunting for more kills before the day is up.
“Retreat, slowly,” Harry tells Colin out of the corner of her mouth. “Get behind that tree. From this angle, it’s possible they won’t see us.”
Harry has to wonder if Cedric had a point about thirteen year-olds being liabilities when Colin steps on a large branch and makes it break with a sickening snap.
“Up there!” Bulstrode screams, and she’s not looking so innocent anymore with the giant ax she’s wielding on her shoulder. Harry doesn’t bother shrieking for Colin to run; She needs to save as much of her energy as she can, and honestly, if Colin doesn’t have the common sense to run at the sight of three Careers, then his death will be on his conscience alone.
Fortunately, they’re all on a steep incline with Harry and Colin on the topmost side, so they have the upper hand while the Careers busy themselves with climbing their way up. Harry uses a portion of those precious few seconds to observe the three hunters and the weapons they carry- Bulstrode with her ax and a hatchet hanging on her belt, Warrington with two spears, one for Harry and Colin each- Don’t think like that, Harry chides herself- And lastly, Theodore Nott looking right in his element with the most deadly array of daggers Harry has ever seen. Not that she goes around staring at arrays of daggers often, but she digresses.
“Split up! Colin, we need to split up!” Harry screams at Colin as they run. If it were the two of them against one Career, then maybe they might stand a chance, even without weapons- Though it’s not very likely. But their weaponless selves against three whole Careers?
Two of their strongest will be coming after her, while the weakest of them- If that’s even a description that can be applied to the Careers- Will go after the tiny thirteen year-old. That’s the best that Harry can offer Colin; There’s still the chance he’ll be able to lose whoever goes after him. It has to be enough.
But Colin, the stupid, stubborn little shit, valiantly declares, “I’m not leaving you!” in his squeaky little voice and- “Gods fucking dammit, Colin, just split the fuck up!” Harry is fully aware that the whole country is watching her swear at the top of her lungs at this moment. There’s nothing more entertaining than a Career chase, after all. Odd as it is, she really can’t bring herself to be bothered about wrecking up that sweet and charming she had going on for her right now. She’s seconds away from being hacked, skewered, or stabbed to death at the moment, for Circe’s sake!
“DUCK!” Colin screams, and Harry doesn’t question it. A split second later, there is the chilling thud of steel hitting wood, one of Nott’s daggers embedding itself deeply into the tree directly where Harry’s face was just a moment ago.
But there’s too much adrenaline pumping through her veins for her to process that just yet. A quick glance behind her shoulder tells her that the Careers have yet to catch up, so she does the instinctive thing and yanks the dagger out of the tree- But it won’t budge.
“Harry, come on!”
“You go on, I’ll catch up!” Harry says as she tugs on the blade’s handle once more. There is no chance she is letting herself get caught weaponless, it would be like Darcy and her gang all over again and Harry will not give the Dursleys the satisfaction of laughing themselves silly as she dies begging on all fours rather than standing and fighting back.
Harry gives the handle one last furious tug. It breaks loose, she nearly falls over from the sudden lurch, but she’s on her feet and now she has a weapon in her hand.
Harry really should just start running again, but she can’t help it. She’s always been a bit of a bitch.
“Thanks for the gift!” she calls out to Nott, and tucks tail and bolts before she can check his reaction.
She’s just hurtled past a clump of trees when a hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, yanks her backwards- And she can’t scream because they’ve got a hand clamped over her mouth, dear gods, this is how she’s going to die, without even knowing the face of her killer-
“It’s me,” Cedric breathes into her ear. “Relax, and just shut up.”
The thundering of footsteps signal that the Careers have charged past the cave hidden behind the vines. Cedric waits for longer after that, giving them a full minute to return, before finally releasing his breath and letting Harry go. She immediately knocks him over into a hug because she was scared and she nearly just died but she’s alive and so is Cedric and-
“Colin!” Harry chokes out, tries to throw herself back out again, but Cedric drags her back by her waist.
“Right here!” Colin’s squeak is the only thing that makes Harry stop squirming in Cedric’s arms. He lets her go when she changes direction and moves to the shadows of the cave instead, where Cho is showing him how to hold the small knife she must have gotten for him. She herself has a scythe strapped to her shoulder, the bow and quiver of arrows Harry was expecting to see on her person being nowhere in sight.
“Davis took the crossbow and the regular bow,” Cho sighs and explains. “I was one of the first ones in the castle, so it was just dumb luck that the arrows were positioned the furthest away from me.”
Nothing is just dumb luck where the gamemakers are involved, but Harry keeps that helpful bit of information to herself for now.
“Flint has his bat- Lethal, that thing, seems to be solid steel all the way through, if the bashed-in skull of Delacour’s district partner is of any indication.”
Harry barely remembers the wisp of a boy, just a year older than Colin and already dead.
“Carrow's got her knives with her, didn’t see if Bulstrode got her hands on anything or not-”
“She did, an ax and a hatchet. We saw her just now,” Harry says.
“Right. Well, Davis and Flint are off hunting on the east side of the arena, Nott, Warrington, and Carrow are searching for prey over here. They’ve left Malfoy to guard the castle and the remaining weapons because no one’s stupid enough to go back there, so it’s the safest place to be for a Career at the moment,” Cho informs her, confirming to Harry that everyone does indeed see Draco Malfoy as someone who should be protected until the latest possible moment.
“I was too busy going hand-to-hand with Bell to see anything more. What about you, Diggory? See who else got any weapons?”
Cedric heads over towards them once he’s made sure the entrance of the cave is secure. He’s carrying a gleaming sword that he didn’t have on him when he was wrestling with Harry before, and it suits him very nicely.
“Delacour’s got her batons, Krum has a saber plus a bag bursting with supplies. One of the fifteen year-olds managed to snatch a bag, too, before Nott drowned them in their own blood with a dagger through the throat,” Cedric offers dully. “He got another kid, Krum’s district partner. Dead before she hit the ground. I… I stole her bag off her,” he holds up a blood-splattered satchel, and upturns it to let its contents drop down. Packs of dried meat, a water bottle that helpfully has no water in it at all, a flashlight, a set of matches, and a blanket.
“Don’t, Cedric,” Cho murmurs, seeing the hardness of Cedric’s eyes. “There was nothing you could’ve done for her. You did the right thing in getting us these supplies.”
“Right. Whatever,” Cedric mutters. “Nott’s a real fucking piece of work. All the Careers are, but he- You should’ve seen him, Cho, he looked thrilled by the brutality of it all.”
“Some people are just born that way,” Cho nods furiously. “Nothing you can do for them. People like him are lost causes from the start.”
“I… I think I killed someone, too,” Cedric says, his voice wobbling, finally letting some vulnerability show for the first time since his name was called. “I didn’t mean to. She was just- We were going for the same bag, you know? She was- She was so tiny. I didn’t think my shove would send her that far-”
“You don’t have to talk about it, Cedric,” Cho says soothingly, rubbing her hand on his back in slow circles. “Not if you don’t want to. It’s alright if you want to forget.”
“No, that’s not- That’s not it,” Cedric’s voice cracks. “She fell into the lake. Warrington saw, and he speared her like a fish.”
There’s a lot of silence after that. The blast of a cannon interrupts the quiet, signaling the death of yet another tribute. Colin takes the interruption to pick up the empty water bottle and offers to go fill it from the stream he saw earlier, but Harry practically shoves him back onto his seat on the ground because she’s going to fill up the bottle herself.
“It’s dangerous, Colin.”
“It’s just as dangerous for you!”
“Colin-”
“It’s my fault,” he mumbles. “We nearly died because of me. So I should be the one to-”
“Oh, you poor thing,” Cho says, using that soothing tone of hers to trick Colin into a tight hug. Go, she motions to Harry as she keeps Colin in place, and before the little boy can figure out what’s happening, Harry has already grabbed the bottle and is heading out of the cave. The sun has set anyway, the Careers will have returned to the base on the ruined castle, and the other tributes will have settled in somewhere for the night.
Harry is returning with the bottle filled to the brim when the sky truly fades into black and the anthem starts playing from above. Images are projected into the air, showing all those that died today. Every last one of the younger tributes, with the exceptions of Davis and Colin, are out of the running for good. Their deaths, along with the surprising one of eighteen year-old Katie Bell’s, makes up seven dead tributes.
Seven out of twenty-four are dead already. That’s nearly a third of their numbers.
That much more of a chance of you getting out alive.
Harry tells the voice in her head to shut up, and it listens, likely because it knows she would sooner put her newly earned dagger through her skull to keep it silenced than listen to one more word from it.
They take turns gulping down the water, Colin first, then Cho, then Cedric, because Harry already had her own filling directly from the stream when she was collecting it. Cedric offers to take the first watch, and the heavy look in his gaze tells Harry that this is less of a choice made of generosity than it is because he knows he won’t be falling asleep tonight.
As she lies down on the stone floor, breathing in what is thankfully the warm night air, Harry wonders what it feels like to kill, and if she will even live long enough to feel it herself. It seems simple enough, in theory. And earlier, Nott made it look so easy when he was throwing the dagger Harry now holds in her hands with the goal to kill. Is it different for every person? Is it an emotional thing? Is Cho right in saying that some people are just born that way, that taking a life feels natural to them?
Nothing about this feels natural, yet at the same time, it is the most natural thing in the world. Twenty-four people, stripped of the safety that civilization offers them, and they’ve been reduced to wanting for nothing more than survival. Some, like Nott, have acclimated to the change seamlessly, turning into the killer one has to be in order to live. Others, like Cedric, cling to their humanities like a lifeline, not knowing there is no place for rationality where there is only the primal need to live for another day.
And Harry? Harry is stuck in a stalemate, unable to tip one way or another until the time comes that the primal instinct comes for her, too.
What will she choose then? Logically speaking, she doubts she’ll be able to pull it off. Cedric clearly doubts it too, as he’s been making that obvious since the train ride here. She’ll likely hesitate, even for a brief moment, and that moment will be all her opponent needs to finish her off.
But logic and likeliness have no place in the hunger games, no matter what the catchphrase of the games dictates. In the end, no one knows what they will turn into until they’re made to face death for themselves. Harry can only hope that whoever she has become by the end of this will be one whose eyes she will be capable of looking into without wavering.
No good will come of surviving the arena if it turns out she can’t quite live with herself, anyway.