The Brothers
When the cannon blasted, Sirius didn't even register it at first. The girl from One was injured, hopefully she ran off and died somewhere.
What mattered was that Harry was alive, just as Riddle told Sirius he would be.
The fight had been intense and Harry had been so fixated through it, so fierce and clever with every choice he made, that Sirius felt as if he had fallen through the screen and landed beside him in the arena. Every smell was reaching Sirius, choking him with the scent of blood, of flesh singed from a gunshot… It was so real, every bit, and Harry survived again.
"Good job," Sirius whispered, relieved to see Harry with clear eyes and almost rational thinking after the fight. It twisted something sharp in Sirius's stomach when Harry asked the Longbottom boy to kill him, but he wouldn't. Longbottom didn't want to kill anyone, he didn't want to, he wouldn't kill Harry.
Longbottom wouldn't kill Harry, Zabini wouldn't kill Harry. He was almost there, he was so close.
"Sirius…"
He was so close. There were so few of them left. Harry could do it, he could. Longbottom wouldn't kill him, neither would Zabini. Harry had been willing to kill Longbottom to protect Zabini, Zabini had seen it. He'd been willing to give up his leg for Harry.
Harry was going to win. Riddle was right.
"Sirius."
If it ended with the three of them, Zabini would kill Longbottom and there wouldn't be a thing Harry could do. He would win and return home, he would be home.
"Sirius!" Someone grabbed Sirius's shoulder, ripping him away from the video feed he had been watching. Sirius started to snarl in irritation until he saw that it was Remus gripping his shoulder with his eyes locked on another screen.
Sirius looked over at the screen that displayed the tributes vitals; their kills, their ranking, their available bets and how much they had earned thus far. Their odds were posted too and Sirius was momentarily triumphant to see Harry's odds so excellent.
"Neville," Remus said quietly, his eyes focused on the bottom, on the greyed out tributes who became victims. Sirius looked down - past Harry, past Zabini, past Nott… at the bottom, the most recent death, was Longbottom.
Sirius's eyes flew to another screen, the one that had Longbottom on it. He had been praying, that was it. Longbottom had his head bowed against his knees in what Sirius had thought were prayers.
"He was fine," Sirius said, his voice faded with shock and rough from the fight that Harry just survived. "He was fine!"
Longbottom had been fine. He didn't even fight, he was placed in a position of defense by Harry. Zabini covered his ass, Harry saved him. Longbottom had been fine.
"Concussion," Tonks said, her eyes glazing over and hiding her from the deaths. Her hand raised like a ghost, detached from her conscious thought, and she touched the corner of her head. "The twins… he hit his head."
"That was ages ago," Remus murmured, frowning in pity for Longbottom. Remus didn't look away from the kind and good boy who had bowed his head in prayer and never lifted it, Remus watched him.
Sirius watched Harry and waited for him to see what happened to his ally.
It wasn't going to be pretty and Sirius hated it for him… he hated it for what it would do to his mental state.
The Games were being won by Harry, but the Games were never won.
*****
The canon blasted and Harry ignored it, he didn't care. It was the girl from one or the twin or maybe even the boy from Eleven. Whoever it was was good for Harry, good for Blaise, amd good for Neville.
Each canon was becoming music to Harry's ears. It was a symphony of ‘it's almost over', over and over.
Canon blast - almost over.
Canon blast - almost over.
"Six left," Blaise said, grinning sharply at Harry, a grin Harry was too tired to return.
Harry would only have to hear three more canon blasts before someone would kill him, Neville or Blaise. Then they would win, two people who deserved it would win.
Neville would go home to his family, Blaise would go home to a future.
Three more blasts, that was all.
"How's your leg?" Harry asked. Blaise was walking, that was a huge improvement. There weren't any blood trails behind him, no blood dripping down his skin anymore.
"Better." Blaise lifted his leg and Harry could see that the skin had stitched itself back together, it was almost completely healed already. The Capitol had products that could heal a leg instantly while people were blown apart in mines… starved to death in their front yards…
It was sick, but everything was anyway.
"Good." Harry turned his attention to the bags that Neville grabbed, the ‘gifts' that were meant to end the games. They only killed one tribute, then another one had crawled away and died somewhere. Harry had wanted to finish the games that day, he was done.
"What did the Gamemakers send you, amore?" Blaise asked. Harry found the bag with the twelve on it, a large drawstring bag that would have cost a fortune on its own. Harry opened it and dumped the bag on top of a crate, dumping out the gifts he was meant to risk his life for.
There were two - a thick white vest, similar to what Peacekeepers wore, and a small bottle of pills.
Which was meant for Harry? Medicine to change him in some way or a vest to identify him for what he'd become?
"Bulletproof vest," Theo wheezed, identifying the vest when Harry held it up. "You'll need it for Eleven."
Which meant the medicine was probably for Neville, for some illness he had or some mutation to help him see the end. Whichever it was, Harry scooped it up as he dropped the vest in disgust and went to give Neville his gift.
Harry didn't want his, but Neville should have his. Neville should see the end, see his family again. Neville and Blaise - that was Harry's decision. The only decision he could make, the one that the Gamemakers couldn't take from him.
"I'm going to grab Neville," Harry said - to himself, to Blaise, to no one. "We should go hunting once we know who's left, I'm ready to end this."
Harry didn't look at Theo, he wasn't going to. Theo was Blaise's ally, he was going to be another death, another pair of eyes that would follow Harry until his last breath.
If they worked quickly, it wouldn't be long.
*****
Theo waited until Potter was outside of the cornucopia to grab Blaise's wrist and squeeze it tightly.
"Blaise, it's time to dump the extra weight," he said quickly, staying quiet so he wasn't the next target of Potter's. "There's not enough people left. I'll take care of Potter, you don't have to, but the second he gets that vest on he's going to be impossible to kill."
Potter had too much armor, too many things working in his favor. He wasn't unskilled, he had no lack of ability with a variety of weapons. Theo wagered that despite Potter's illegal slander against the Capitol, Potter was well sponsored by the citizens of Panem.
And, the most damning of all, Potter had a knack for attracting allies. Longbottom was no threat to Theo, Theo had only saved him from the twins to protect his own skin from Potter, but Blaise… Blaise was beginning to blur the line between what Theo thought had been an interesting story for sponsors and what may very well be true emotion.
It was meant to be a lark, something to give Blaise an edge with sponsors and an interesting storyline in case of his victory. Theo had rolled his eyes and put up with it because he liked Blaise, they had been friendly all through school, but when the fantasy began to feel like truth to Theo… it was dangerous.
"Why would we leave?" Blaise asked, pulling his wrist free and masking his tone in a way Theo couldn't read. "There's still six tributes, Theo, we should wait."
"Wait until what?" Theo demanded hotly, not liking the direction of the conversation at all. "For us to kill two more tributes and then find ourselves locked in a battle with Potter and Longbottom?"
That would be when Longbottom would choose to fight for his life, Theo was sure of it. It happened before in the Games, tributes who were meek through most of the Games ended up fighting viciously when they were close to the end. Some of those tributes ended up the most deadly, Theo didn't want to take any chances.
"You believe we can't take them?" Blaise asked. He pulled a blade from the bag with their district number on it and dangled it between them by the tip of the blade. "When the Capitol sent you such a sharp tool?"
"Potter has more weapons and the second he puts on that vest all of his vital organs are protected, Blaise!" Theo snapped. "It's time to go!"
The blade dangled between them and Theo could feel sweat building up on the back of his neck. Blaise wasn't saying anything and the longer the silence built between them, the more of an answer that Theo was receiving.
"Blaise…" Theo swallowed and kept his eyes on the blade sent for him, the one that had a green tint to the blade, possibly poisoned and meant to make Theo deadly in his own right. "It's still you and me, right?"
The blade twitched between them and Theo flinched away from it.
"Right." Blaise pulled the blade back and flipped it in his hand. "You and me," he said.
Theo reached out for the handle that Blaise was offering him and his fingers had just brushed the metal when Potter walked back in the cornucopia.
Potter's eyes were dull, the dangerous dull that Theo saw when he was killing his opponents and fighting for survival. It was the dull eyes that set off all the alarms in Theo's head before Potter even opened his mouth.
When he did, Theo felt his heart picking up to a sprint of fear.
"Neville's dead."
It took Theo two seconds to process what Harry said, to process that Longbottom had been the cannon blast they heard. It was two seconds to long, it was two seconds that would cost Theo his life.
In an instant, the knife that was sent to the arena for Theo to use, the knife he was meant to kill his enemies with, was pressed to his throat with as much weight behind it as Theo's friend could give.
*****
It wasn't fair, it wasn't.
Nothing about being in the Hunger Games was fair, nothing about living in Panem was fair, but Neville? Neville?!
A tribute didn't kill him, he wasn't snuck up on and then stabbed or killed in any way. Neville sat down and then never stood back up.
Harry shook his shoulder, tried to wake him up at first. When Neville's head lolled to the side and Harry saw his eyes, empty and lifeless, he knew.
There wasn't a question of who killed him then, Harry knew.
Harry didn't know how long he sat on the ground beside Neville, holding his hand and staring at his empty eyes, but he knew that the plans he built changed while he did.
There wasn't any hope that Neville and Blaise could go back home then, none at all. The Capitol took that when they killed Neville, when they reaped his friend, accepted his place in their Games, when they sent medicine he must have needed too late. It was the Capitol who killed Neville Longbottom, it was the Gamemakers and the President.
Harry wasn't going to die at the end and let Neville go home to his family, Harry was going to win.
Harry was going to kill four more tributes and he would remember their names, their stories. Harry would have to kill them so he could be set free from the arena and released into a bigger arena.
In the new arena, there would be more tributes to kill, people who deserved death.
Harry wasn't going to die at the end, Harry was going to win. He had to, because Neville Longbottom was dead.
Harry had to win so that Neville was never forgotten.
"Goodbye, friend," Harry whispered to Neville as he gently laid him on his side. Harry closed his lids and thought of how long he had known Neville, how terribly his family would be mourning him.
"You were a good man, a good ally," Harry said quietly, forcing himself to keep down the anger, just for Neville and his family. "You always cared, about the tributes, about me. It's not fair that you're gone, Neville, it's not. I'm so sorry the Capitol did this to you, that they put you through this. I'm sorry you're gone, but I swear that you'll never be forgotten."
Harry knew it would be a moment playing on every camera when he leaned over and pressed his lips to Neville's forehead.
"Goodbye, brother," Harry whispered, loudly enough for the cameras to capture. "You were too good for the world we live in."
Every word of it was true, but it was calculated too.
If the citizens of Panem didn't rise up over little Trent's death or the separation of twins who had spent their entire life together - they would for Neville.
Harry felt that as deeply as he felt the end approaching.
*****
Before, Sirius would have been terrified to hear Harry eulogize a fellow tribute. It wasn't done, it wasn't meant to turn tributes into victims. It was dangerous, it was the sort of thing that would ensure a swift death at the hands of the Gamemakers before.
With Riddle controlling the games, setting the country up for rebellion, Sirius watched the fight return to his godson and knew that Longbottom's death had cemented Harry's win.
"Goodbye, brother," Harry whispered on the screen, the words amplified for the feeds. "You were too good for the world we live in."
"Goodbye, brother." Sirius had sobbed the words, felt them ripping from his chest and his very soul. The peacekeeper kept ahold of Sirius, raising him from the arena to the waiting jet, and James became smaller and smaller.
"He's just won," Barty said, so inappropriately cheerful when the mood was solemn while the other mentors replayed the death that hurt them the worst in the arena. "Longbottom's dead and Potter's going to win."
"Pansy's still fighting," Bellatrix cut in. "Don't count her out."
Sirius wasn't counting her period. The Game was rigged for Harry, Sirius should have seen it from the start.
Barty, who shouldn't have even still been in the mentor rooms with both his tributes dead, had it completely right —
Harry was going to win.
Sirius could feel it in his bones, Harry was going to win. The Games were nearly finished and Harry only had one ally left, one deadly ally who planned to take Harry to the end.
Love wasn't going to save Harry's life, but it would carry him out of the arena.
Everyone watched Harry walk back to the cornucopia, to the place where Nott had been trying to talk Zabini into running. Sirius grasped someone's arm tightly, needing it to focus on the screen, to focus on what was going to happen when the boys from Three found out that Harry's district partner had died.
*****
"Blaise?" The color in Theo's face was draining and his eyes were too wide, too shocked, for Blaise to look at.
Blaise didn't mean to do it, he didn't plan it, but as soon as Harry said that Longbottom was dead, the knife moved to Theo's neck.
"Longbottom was the death?" Blaise asked Harry, trying to buy himself time even though he was sure Harry was right. Harry wouldn't say it for a joke, for a power move. If Harry said Longbottom was dead, then he was dead.
And it meant that their shaky four-man alliance had dropped down to three. It meant that Theo was going to see Harry as expendable and Blaise could not stay awake for the rest of the Games, as long as they may be, and be sure that Theo didn't kill Harry.
"He must have been sick," Harry said, slowly walking toward them, his eyes on the knife Blaise held. "Blaise, you don't have to do it."
"You really don't," Theo said quickly. "Blaise, it's me, we're friends, allies."
They were - they were allies from the second they were chosen. They grew up together, they lived only a few blocks from each other and they had played together as boys, trained together when they were older.
Theo was Blaise's oldest friend in the world, as beloved as a brother would have been, and yet the knife didn't move from where Blaise had lodged it against Theo's neck.
"Blaise…" Harry reached out for the knife, his eyes locked on Blaise's face. "You don't have to do it," he said again.
Harry was offering to do it, Blaise should let him. It would be best if Blaise let Harry take Theo's life, leave the death off Blaise's conscious.
Blaise didn't know that his entire future would be spent with Harry, he knew that Theo had had filled Blaise's past. If Blaise didn't kill Theo, they could win. They could win and return to their district together, heroes with their place in history and a future filled with riches and comforts.
A future with Harry was a mystery, something that could be brighter than a fire or as dark as the night. With Harry, there were only questions, possibilities. Blaise and Harry could burn their path in history, burn it and leave nothing but ash behind them.
It was the opposite of everything Blaise's mother wanted for him, the opposite of everything that would keep Blaise safe in their country.
Blaise loved him though - he loved Harry as truly as he knew himself. What started as a gimmick based on attraction had became painfully real and as much as Blaise couldn't imagine taking Theo's life from him, he couldn't imagine losing Harry either.
Harry could change the world, they could do it together. They could be the thing that the Capitol never saw coming, the thing that burned everything that was wrong with the world.
With Harry, Blaise's mother would never need another husband to keep her out of the claws of the Capitol. With Harry, they could keep women from being terrified of childbirth, terrified to see their children one day be reaped.
"I'll do it," Harry said, his soft voice reaching Blaise's ears when Theo's pleas didn't. "You don't have to."
No, Blaise didn't have to. Blaise shouldn't, he shouldn't choose Harry over a guaranteed future of ease. Blaise should turn the knife and drive it through Harry's chest.
Blaise yanked his hand hard, sliding the blade across Theo's throat and he watched as the blood splattered and covered Harry's face.
*****
When Theo's throat split, Harry was hit by a wave of warm red blood. It covered his face, it got in his mouth.
Harry could have choked on the blood and died there, leaving Blaise without a partner or a chance at winning. It would have been a fitting death, one that the Gamemakers could make jokes about during the next ten years of games - Harry Potter, the tribute who killed so many, choking beneath the weight of the blood from the one boy he didn't kill.
Theo gagged and the noises he made were what Harry imagined a drowning person would make. There were small bubbles of blood that burst while Theo tried to suck in air and it was lost through the hole Blaise made.
"Theo? Oh, God…" Blaise had moved automatically when he killed Theo, he hadn't even been thinking. Harry saw it then, he saw when the life returned to Blaise's eyes and he took in the blood and the desperate gurgles of a dying tribute.
"Theo?" Blaise grabbed Theo's shoulders and laid him on the ground. "Theo, please… Theo, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Harry didn't have anything to say, nothing was going to ease Blaise's guilt or help Theo's pain. Theo was going to die, Blaise was going to live. It was how it had to be, Harry didn't have to like it to know it was necessary.
Theo's eyes were wide and Harry could see the light in them dimming, his life draining out with his blood. Blaise's pleas hitched on a sob and Harry couldn't comfort him, he couldn't undo what Blaise did.
All Harry could do was remind him that he wasn't a monster, that it was all the Capitol.
"In a better life, you two could have been friends for your whole life," Harry said, his hand slowly landing on Blaise's shoulder and squeezing it. Blaise was still shaking Theo, apologizing, Harry was only partially talking to him.
"It's sick, the way they pit us against each other. Friends against friends, brothers against brothers. The Capitol reaps us and they put us here and they call it entertainment, they say we're the circus and they give us the bread. But why? Why are we entertaining them? Our people are dying in the streets from starvation, they're making us fight our friends and family for food and homes. It's sick, Blaise. In a better life, they wouldn't have done this to him."
Nothing Harry said was a lie, but he didn't know the widespread consequences of his words either.
*****
"Friends against friends, brothers against brothers."
"He's right," Ron said loudly, not giving a damn who heard him. Ron stood in the town square with the others, the people who had watched Ron's brothers be taken to the arena, the people who stood with Ron's family when Fred died and who watched George slowly die on his own.
"Harry's got it exactly right," Ginny agreed, her eyes blazing. Ginny had balls, more than anyone, when she bent down and grabbed a large rock to throw.
Ron watched it fly through the air, cracking one of the screens that turned the murder of Ron's brothers into entertainment. For one second, one second, Ron's chest was tight. Ginny could be killed for it and they couldn't lose anyone else - they couldn't.
Then another rock flew through the air, and another. The screams started from the people and the rocks weren't being aimed toward the screens, but the peacekeepers who weren't prepared for it.
"FOR FRED!" Percy screamed as he threw a stone and hit a peacekeeper in the head. It knocked them off their platform and someone ran to them, took their gun.
It took no time at all for everyone in the square to be rioting, screaming for justice, for change. Ron found his mom in the crowd and rushed her to an empty shop, somewhere she could be safe.
"Ron!" Mom caught Ron's hand and tried to stop him from leaving. She was crying and trying not to, but Ron had seen his mom grieve so many times. "They'll kill you," she said. "Stay here."
"Mom…" Ron shook his head and gestured to the scarf she wore, the one that was meant for Fred and he would never see. "They already are."
They were killing Ron's brothers, they killed his dad. The Capitol wanted to kill them all and Ron was sick of it. If there was ever a time to riot, to scream out the pain and frustrations that were being piled on their shoulders, it was then.
The Capitol might kill them all for it, but Fred went down fighting and Ron would too.
*****
"My God, Black, they're going to kill him," Snape said, his eyes actually wide when Harry gave his speech. It was only seconds after Harry finished that the cannon blasted and Zabini was credited with the death of Nott.
"He's going to start riots," Tonks whispered, as quietly as possible. "It's going to be wars in the streets."
Yeah, it was. With a Gamemaker pulling the strings, the entire country was going to become an arena soon. It wouldn't be brothers against brother then though, it would be the districts against the Capitol.
"He's gone." Zabini was sobbing on the screen, clutching Nott's dead body to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Theo. I'm sorry. Please, I'm sorry."
It was painful to watch, painful to see what the Capitol had done to Zabini, to Harry… to Sirius.
They made them pawns, they made them play Gods as they chose who lived and who died. Harry never should have had to ask Longbottom to kill him, Zabini shouldn't have had to choose between a friend and lover. They were just children…
By God, they were only children.
The mentors who were left turned as one when the door to the mentor room opened. Sirius only spared a glance for Rita and her clacking heels while she crossed directly to him, he was more interested in watching Harry comfort Zabini.
Harry cared for him, he did. Sirius could see it.
In their own way, they were beautiful and just as inspiring as Riddle had hoped they would be.
"Black." Rita elbowed Lupin away and hissed in Sirius's ear. "We need to talk."
"Not now," Sirius muttered. There wasn't anything Rita could say to take him from his spot. They were down to five and as much grief as Harry had for Zabini, Sirius could see him planning.
It was noon in the arena and Sirius thought they would be finished by sunrise. Sirius wished James were there to see it, to see Harry leave the arena he died in.
James would have been so proud of him.
"Yes, now," Rita whispered. "We have a meeting, with Riddle."
"Can't it wait?" Sirius asked irritably. He scowled when Rita kissed his neck loudly, covering their whispers and driving the others away from them by a few steps.
"No," she said. "We need to talk to him now. It's happening, Black. The riots have started and they're painting Harry's face on their signs."
Sirius looked at the boy playing a God on the screen and felt ice water fill his veins, freezing him from the inside out. It was starting, it was actually starting.
And Harry was unknowingly leading it all from the arena he was sent to die in.