In all the years at Hogwarts, all those soundless nights, those awkward moments in classes or even in times of mourning; I've never heard a silence quite this loud. This tournament is supposed to be raging with action, with loud noises left and right, yet why don't see anything? Do the rest of the twenty three warriors realize this too? Shouldn't there be a dragon or some vicious creature in our midst, or a sign that we are going to die very soon? Because from right here, I see nothing. No sign of trouble or danger. I can't decide which is worse.
I shake my head and send out my last parting thoughts with the world, because as I'm pulling my hair into a bun with trembling fingers, I finally see it; the countdown. The numbers are magically marked across the tinted blue sky, warning us, that the terror of these games are only about to begin. This is it. Now or never. Do or die. Fight or flight. Flight, I quickly decide as I look at my fellow… targets? Is that what you'd call someone you are about to kill? A target? Perhaps a victim. No matter the name, most of them are intimidating. Half of them probably had professional training, and are superb students in every subject. I make a mental checklist in my head, there are twenty three wizards in front of me. Some from Durmstrang, some from Beauxabaton and many from, well, Hogwarts. The numbers on the countdown are decreasing rapidly, or so it seems to me. I wonder where Kellan is, because even though we're both Slytherins, something hints at me that we aren't going to form an alliance anytime soon. The countdown is reaching to it's last digits, so I review the rules in my head, for one final time, because in ten seconds they are about to come into play. One: The usage of any of the unforgivable curses is strictly prohibited. Two: This will result in an automatic sentence to the Dementor's Kiss. Three: Only one can survive.
Five, four, three, two, one . With a forceful blow of magic, we are let off our brooms and are force into a stretch of green field, also known as the Quidditch Pitch. Not even nanoseconds have gone by and there are spells, curses, jinxs, spurred in every direction possible. I haven't even gotten up yet, when someone hurls a Confringo enchantment my way. Luckily she had a poor aim, but the grass a few inches away was already engulfed by the flames. I quickly sit up, send a stunning charm at the Gryffindor warrior, whom I recall is Justin Finnigan, and run, as fast as I can to avoid being killed in the first few seconds of this tournament. No way am I going to be pushed out of this competition already, the fight has merely started and I don't want to leave life too soon; even if it comes to these ludicrous games. The sun has risen high and sweat is already dripping down my face, this was not how I thought things were going to start. Ironically, the silence is immediately diminished, and replaced with screams, yelps, and cries that fill my eardrums. I am making my way for the stands, when something catches my eye. Something bright, shiny, metallic. I shade my face from the blistering heat as I move toward the faint glare, whilst dodging spells and chucked bodies. I spot it, and then stop dead in my tracks. The light that sparked off came from a cup. But not just any cup, to my bewilderment, it came from the same cup that was used in the Triwizard Tournaments. The same trophy that brought Cedric Diggory to his death. The same cup that brought Harry Potter, the boy who lived, to his fate with Voldemort. I look around to see if anyone else has spotted it, and someone else has; a Dumrstrang tribute.
I think his name is Vladimir; but I really could care less at the moment, because he's charging my way. Almost like a trance, I discover a reflex I didn't even know I had, and was capable of. I grab my wand tightly and yell, "Expelliamus!", but Vlad is quick on the uptake, and ducks. He rolls to his stomach and starts crawling quickly to the cup. I do the same, because this seemed like a much more productive way of dodging the spells that were constantly generated every three seconds. We both are crawling fast, our uniforms already streaked with mud and stained with grass and what looked like fresh blood. Noticing this, I take an abrupt glance at the field and momentarily wish I hadn't. This portkey is only inches away from me, I grab it and brace myself for the swirling events that would occur after it. I hold on tightly waiting for my stomach to be sick at any second and shut my eyes closed. But even in the midst of the dizziness and nausea, I feel a glimmer of gratitude and confidence. Maybe I can win this, I got to the portkey and I'm still intact and alive. Some warriors didn't even make it this far, I think to myself, as I recall the image of the wizards bodies' scattered randomly across the grass laying motionless, their blood leaving marks on my clothes. All of this is wrong and sick and inhuman, life is short enough, and this competition isn't helping . It's hard to think that I knew some of those kids, and the thing that was the most magical at Hogwarts was what killed them.
I was still spinning rapidly for a couple seconds, before my body hit the ground with enough force to practically break a rib. I hastily rise up and check myself, spending an extra couple of moments checking my ribcage. I feel bruised everywhere and my body feels like it was stretched unnaturally and all my limbs are exceedingly sore, more than they have ever been in my life (including the time I collided with a bludger in a quiddich try-out ). I also realize that the ride blurred my vision, so I start squinting and blinking to figure out where on earth I am. It is dark, damp and freezing. And as I walk I can hear crunching, so I bend down and stroke the ground; and to my surprise, I feel thick, moist leaves. Am I…in a forest? My eyes are still watery andI rub them, but no luck. I need to take a breather, I think as I sit down on a pile of leaves. Placing my head in between my legs and my wand in my lap, I start to doze off. This place was still, relaxing and silent, but in an eerie way like I'm not supposed to be here. Nonsense, why else would I have been put here? I breathe deeply and try to figure out my next move, my next plan. But my eyes keep distracting me. They burn as I try to concentrate, and I suddenly become conscious to the fact that I have a wand with me. What an idiot, I scold myself. I draw out my wand from my lap and lift it above my eyes. "Aguamenti", I whisper, and streams of water pour out of my wand as I rinse my eyes.
Finally my eyes regain vision, but with a price. I can't see as nearly as good as I used to, my vision isn't as sharp as it should be. That portkey must have had an enchantment. I shrug it off and get up, hoping to do some scoping, maybe I can figure out where I am. As I start to get up, I hear a noise; a sort of quiet rustling. This alarms me so much, that I let out a squeal, which triggers a jet of light to come at me. I quickly clap my hand to my mouth and whip out my wand from my pocket, ready for a fight. I slowly stand straight up and peer through what looks like a tree. This is a forest, I confirm.I lower my gaze to what seems to be a shadow, it was still, like me. I crouch down to get a better look, and what I thought was a shadow, was a pair of boots, thick, black and…manly. My eyes grew big once I realized this was another warrior, but not just any warrior; it was Vlad. He must have grabbed the portkey the same time I did! His eyes are probably burning too, I think, and figure that the spell was casted from him. By the time I put this all together, he is already a couple steps ahead of me. Out of the crowd of trees, he lashes out and yells something, but I am too busy leaping out off the way to pay any attention. I hide behind the closest tree, using it as a shield, but this turned out to be a massive mistake. He instantly sets the whole forest on fire, and as I swirl around, flames start jumping from tree to tree making their way up the trunks and branches, seeming practically impossible for me to take any cover, and forcing me to duel with him one on one. I swallow hard and turn around promptly, dreading to face what might be my end. I begin to take in the image of this tribute. He's roughly around the age of a seventh year, tall, naturally buff, has jet black hair, and thick eyebrows, and a bulky nose that his stern stare peers over.
I can already feel my hands starting to dampen, and not to mention the burning sensation in my eyes is starting to come back. And not because of the enchantment, but this time because of the smoke. Without any warning, Vlad in his Russian accent ,shouts, "OPPUGNO!" and a horde of boulders fly my direction.
"Protego!" I shout and most of the boulders fall down but a couple manage to continue their path, one strikes me in my left shoulder and the other grazes my right flank. I scream in sheer pain. I think my shoulder is dislocated, but this isn't enough to satisfy the Durmstang student. He wants me knocked out and more importantly, dead. It's becoming increasingly difficult to see and breathing is becoming a struggle, and there is no sign of the fire slowing down. I struggle to get up, but in fact, I actually want to just lie here and see what becomes of me. The throbbing of my shoulder is so intense that I feel like searing it off, and the smoke is going to kill me if nothing else did. The atmosphere is so fierce it is burning my skin off. I have to get out of here, I need to get out of here. My breathes are growing further apart, so I'm doing my best not to panic. As I'm gaining balance, I trip over the boulder that smashed me and land on my left shoulder, making me yell in more agony, my shoulder stinging worse than before. I notice Vlad coming closer to me with his wand raised, waiting for the perfect time to finish me off. I grope for my wand, and point it at the wizard. By this time we both are coughing hysterically, and I can barely make out Vlad because of the combination of sweat and tears covering my eyes. I feel so weak. So helpless.
"Get away from me!" I scream pathetically, as if that was going to help. This just makes him laugh. "Expelliarmus!" I say, hoping that I'm aiming for my target, but with these thick clouds of smoke, I could be aiming at a bush. The spell misses his wand and now he is towering over me like I am a vulnerable puppy. Well, he does have a right to think that. It's probably what I look like right about now. The flames are so close to me that I'm struck with fear, I can't move, I'm paralyzed. Don't give up yet, not so soon. Think about Mother and Father . Stay alive for them. And for them only. C'mon Willow be strong, be… heroic. You're a Malfoy , and Malfoy's don't give up. Be fearless. With great effort, I force myself to lift my leg up and kick Vlad has hard as my body is capable of. I believe I kicked him in the place where it might effect the procreation of his children, so bringing my combat boots seemed to be a good choice. He grimaces in pain, and falls to the burnt ground. This is my chance to escape. What should I do? Kill him? Or just stun him? How do you get rid of an enemy? I decide to not kill him. I am not a killer, not yet anyway. But stunning would be too easy, I think, wracking my brains for a spell. Vlad starts to mumble something, but before he even has the chance to pick up his arm, I point my wand and whisper "Petrificus Totalus" and just like that he's frozen, petrified in his own ambition.
I take a deep breath, and realize how difficult it is to get oxygen into my lungs. I steal a look around and see that the whole forest is now swallowed up by flames, and not a patch of green is visible. I wipe my eyes, unsure of how to escape. For the third time I get up, with success, and although I am still burning with pain, I manage to find a small space, free of flames. I run to it without hesitation, and make clear of the growing fire. I run like I have never ran before, as if I thought about running any faster, I'd take off the ground and take wing into the sky, free. I keep running for a good twenty minutes. If I didn't have to catch my breath, I wouldn't have but luckily I do. Just a couple hundred yards away, I notice a hill, rich with green grass, practically calling my name and beckoning me toward it. I rush up the hill that is still alive and untouched by the inferno, and I decide that this is far enough away from the fire. Because chances are, another warrior would come looking for me. I happily notice that my breathing has comeback to normal and with my sight clear of smoke, try to focus on the real problems that I am force to face.
Food: Where was I going to get any? And how? Shelter: Is there any even near here? Donors: Which Hogwarts professor would actually support me? I yawn, rub my face, and consider my options. I can try to build myself a shelter of some sort…leaves maybe? But all of the sturdy leaves were probably burned in the fire. With a deep sigh, I draw my attention to my surroundings. The fog no longer hovered over and as far as my eyes can see, nothing can realistically hurt me, there are no trees, no rocks, no clouds, and oddly enough no birds. Pity, I was hoping to hear some of their sweet songs that the winds carried through the breeze. This sort of activity of survival needs some music lingering in the background. I lick my index finger and stick it out in the air. No breeze either. For something that is supposed to attract thousands of people to watch, nothing very fascinating is worth watching. Then again, there is probably a warrior out here facing a showdown, creating an entertaining scene for all viewers. I wonder, if I wasn't in this tournament of doom, would I be a viewer? Would I be the one watching every student's death in deep detail, my eyes glazed over with a film of addictiveness to this so called "game"? I may be in Slytherin, but we would never sink into watching something as vile as this. Well, I wouldn't. Come to think of it, it's not a very comforting fact, because I believe I am the most misplaced student in my year, according to my classmates. Sometimes I wonder if the Sorting Hat gets lazy, and puts kids into random houses based on nothing but looks.
But then I remember something that was once said about Slytherins, "those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends". If any doubt lies in me about whether or not I am a true serpent, I think about this, because the statement describes me through and through. And because this subject is tearing my brains apart, I move onto something else. I can feel the temperature starting to fall, and as I look up, so is the sun; night is approaching. My body gives a quick shiver and I get up to place some barriers. "Salvio Hexia", I mutter, while waving my wand in fluid motions through the air. That happens to be the only protective enchantment I know, and hopefully it will be enough. Judging by the amount of light in the sky, I'm guessing it's around seven in the afternoon, and gazing at my surrounding landscape, I want to get an early start tomorrow morning, soon before other warriors awake. An unpleasant feeling arises deep within my stomach, I've been so focused on my personal struggles within society, that I have forgotten to eat. I groan at the thought of having to actually get my food, as I am so accustomed to plopping onto a bench in the Great Hall and have the food magically appear in front of me. Although with the barrier set in place, it makes it much safer to explore the nearby terrain, without setting myself into a trap, which I feel like I am achieving constantly.
Plucking out the blades of grass clinging to my jacket and pants, still aware of my shoulder, I make my way across the rolling fields and yet again wrack my mind for some useful spells. "Accio food", I mutter, waiting for some sort of reply. My hands drop to my side in loss, I honestly didn't think that would have worked anyway. It would be much too simple, but I am growing desperate. From a great distance away, I can make out the outline of the forest from which I had just escaped. I am certain that there is a plentiful amount of food, or what I could qualify as food, but the risk of something lurking in between branches, bushes, and beds of who knows what, is much too high. At least I can quench my thirst, I suppose, as I spray my mouth with more water, but it ended up as face wash. I am not the most orderly person you'll meet, I am absolutely prone to spilling things. I slowly trudge my way up the hill, my feet dragging themselves every step of the way and my face drenched in the waters of disappointment and failure. I kneel over trying to wipe my face dry with my sleeves, and realized they were goners, burnt to smithereens and the Slytherin crest on it is no longer there.
Just as I was about to tie my uncooperative shoelace, I am pelted with small objects. Quickly, I jump up and bear out my wand and send a spell from the direction of the assault. As I spin out to truly aim for my attacker, I am deeply troubled. No one is in sight. I take a swift glance behind me, but still to no avail, no warrior to be seen. Still doubting the disappearance of my aggressor, I say "Homenum Revelio" in an undertone. And to my sheer surprise, no tribute appeared. I let my perplexity get to the best of me, and I sit down, defeated, and just as I start to sit down, my right hand presses down on something solid. I pick it up to examine it, and to my delight and amusement, a handful of walnuts lie beneath me. I begin to laugh at my delayed spell but quickly stop because my arm aches. I clear my throat and examine my shoulder, in spite of my rumbling out-of-control stomach. I draw my attention towards the problem of getting my shoulder back to where it belongs. I dare myself not to look at it to deeply, ever since I could read, images and real life examples of the body not as it should be never laid well with my stomach. Still, my curiosity has gotten to me, so I peel my scorched shirt backwards, peering with difficulty to where my bone now is. As I stare at my shoulder I notice a lump about the size of a half a small orange thrusting out limply from the side of my upper limb. This must be where my bone starts. I grimace at the thought of having to push it pack in, but I am left with no other choice. I take out my wand and point it at my shoulder. I pause briefly to remember the enchantment. I turn my head cowardly the other direction and squint both of my eyes to refrain from seeing, if it happened, another one of my failures. A couple of very deep breathes later, I concentrate on the spell, brace myself, for the pain, and say. "Episky", which barely seems to come out of mouth. I hear a loud crack and a shriek finds its way out of clenched jaw. I wince at the forceful jolt and after a couple of seconds, I tear my eyes open and turn to my shoulder.
Pulling back the singed fabric again, I look at what progress I have made. My shoulder appeared to be back to normal, flesh, bone and all. Releasing the breath that I was holding in, I sit down lightly and begin to exercise my shoulder gently. I pick up my walnuts and chew them with infinite pleasure, crunching them in silence, my grin growing wider with every bite. The sun is no longer visible as it makes its way below eye level, winking it's last message of hope. By the time I'm done munching my dinner, the stars start to come out, their everlasting twinkling signaling their presence has arrived. It wasn't long before my eyelids started to feel heavy. Usually on a beautiful night like this, I'd stay up. But with all that has happened today, I think I can make an exception. In fetal position I lay on the grass, waiting out my fears, calling sleep to me. I have tried many new things today, some I will never do again, and right now is no exception. For the first time in my life, I pray. I'm not sure to who or what. Just to an existence I suppose. Thank you for letting me live one more day longer. My final thoughts disappear and I clutch my wand tightly before drifting off into my dreams, not bearing to think of what will lie ahead tomorrow.