Chapter 1

Day 1, 7:32 AM

Hermione's head hurt. She groaned softly and pressed her face into her pillow. Then froze. This wasn't her pillow, and she wasn't laying in her bed. She became aware of the sounds of movement. She willed her eyes to open and raised her head gingerly. She had been plopped in a hard wooden chair, her head allowed to droop forward onto a wooden desk. Blinking hard against the grit in her eyes, she looked around. It was a classroom, she realized. In Hogwarts? Around her, other people were waking up. Most she recognized, having gone to school with them at one time. Not everyone was in her year – she spotted Katie Bell across the room rubbing at the silver collar around her neck.

Her hands flew to her own neck, having noticed only now that she, too, sported one. She tried to dig her fingers between it and the flesh of her neck and only barely managed. The thing was just too tight. Despite having had no trouble a moment ago, Hermione suddenly found herself with difficulty breathing. Pyschological, she reasoned, but it did nothing to calm her racing heart. The metal was not tight enough to compromise her windpipe. She grit her teeth together and concentrated on breathing. A girl was whimpering behind her.

The door to the classroom opened. Even without the head of long blonde hair, she would know the haughty smirk anywhere. Lucius Malfoy stepped up to the podium at the front of the room. Shouts rang out in the room. She turned her head in time to see Roger Davies standing from his chair. The legs scraped loudly across the stone floor. His hand dove into his pocket, searching for a fraction of a moment before his eyes widened.

"My wand!"

"Have a seat, Mr. Davies," Malfoy drawled from the front of the room. "I can assure you that you will have your wand returned to you shortly." Pale faced, the boy did as he was instructed. "Very good. Now. You all must be wondering why you are here."

Murmurs of agreement went through the room.

"We're going to play a little game. Look around you." Hermione declined, instead staring straight at him, her eyes narrowed. "In three days, only one of you will remain. The rules are simple. Anything goes, except the killing curse. It's not very sporting, now is it? In three days, whichever of you is left alive is the winner."

Shocked silence filled the room. A girl in the front of the room, a few rows ahead of Hermione, raised her hand timidly. Hermione thought she recognized the girl as Allison Barnes. She was a Gryffindor, two years behind Hermione. At the Death Eater's nod, she asked, "Are… are you asking us to… kill each other?"

A smile grew across Lucius's pale face. "Miss Barnes, I am not asking."

Another chair scraped across the floor and a boy Hermione did not recognize shouted, "You can't do this!"

"I think you'll find that I can," Malfoy answered lightly.

The boy started toward the front of the room. "I'll stop you," he threatened.

Malfoy snapped his fingers and the boy screamed. Almost against her will, Hermione leaned forward in her seat to see what was happening. It was difficult to see for sure from where she was sitting, but it appeared that spikes had exploded inward from the collar's surface. The boy was clawing at his neck desperately as blood was pushed from the cool silver. It almost looked to be oozing from the metal. Just a drip to start with but it quickly increased to a steady trickle. In seconds, the boy's clothing was drenched from the steady cascade. He fell to his knees, a choked sob wrenching from his lips.

Lucius's voice rose above the desperate crying. "You have three days for one player to remain. If, in three days' time, more of you remain, every collar will trigger and there will be no winner. The clock starts now."

Hermione glanced at her watch. It read 7:47 AM.

"What do we win?" asked a boy from the back. Hermione tore her gaze from the gruesome sight in front of her – to which her eyes had been inexorably drawn after making note of the time – to find the speaker. Her blood ran cold at the sight of Blaize Zabini, looking almost bored.

"Your life. If you win, no follower of the Dark Lord, our Master, will ever harm you."

"That's it?" someone else yelled.

Lucius's eyes flashed. "Is that not enough?"

No one dared answer. The unfortunate boy on the floor had fallen face forward, silent, in a pool of his own blood. The rain of blood from the collar had slowed dramatically. Hermione's eyes focused on a single drop of blood that clung to the bottom of the collar, unwilling to drop to the floor.

"You have the entirety of the castle in which to play. If you attempt to leave the castle in any way, including going out onto the grounds, your collar will trigger. I will warn you that entrances to the dormitories are locked. You will not be permitted to hide there.

"So. Three rules: you may not use the killing curse on one another or your collar will be triggered. You may not leave the castle or your collar will be triggered. There must be a winner in three days or all the collars will be triggered. Any questions?"

"What about food?" called out a girl that Hermione recognized as Olivia Shardlow.

"Ah, yes, excellent question. When you leave this room you will be given a backpack with a few supplies. Included are some food rations. If you find that what you have been provided is not enough, well, you are encouraged to share." A predatory smile spread across his face.

"I will call your names in alphabetical order. When I call your name, you will proceed to the front of the classroom, where your wand will be returned to you, and you may take a backpack." The door of the room opened once again and two more men entered, pushing a trolley full of backpacks. It reminded Hermione of the rolling stands that had been wheeled into the classroom for movie days when she was in elementary school. "Now then, if there are no more questions?" He paused, gazing around the room. "Angelina Applebee."

The girl rose from her seat at the front of the room – they must have been placed in alphabetical order, Hermione realized – and took timid steps toward the pale-haired man in front of the chalkboard. She hesitated about a meter in front of him.

"Come now, I won't hurt you. Where would be the fun in that?"

She stepped closer and the man smiled widely. He stooped forward and retrieved a wand from behind his podium. She snatched it from him and turned to bolt out the door.

"Don't forget your backpack," he called to her retreating back.

Angelina turned, eyes wide, and grabbed one at random. Throwing it over her shoulder, she ran from the room.

Next was Tamsin Applebee, Angelina's older brother. Tamsin had been in Hermione's year, sorted into Hufflepuff. She paid rapt attention to the names as they were called, making an effort to memorize the faces of those she did not recognize.

Hermione's own name was the twelfth called. She stood on trembling legs, keeping her face carefully neutral as she walked down the aisle toward the front of the room. The body of the dead boy lay in her path. Squaring her shoulders, she willed herself not to flinch as her shoe squelched in the congealing puddle of blood.

"Miss Granger," Lucius murmured as he handed her wand over. "Good luck." The smirk on his face belied his words and she just knew he hoped to watch her die a gruesome death.

The feeling of her hand closing around the stick of vine wood was indescribable. Her magic flooded through her, giving her a bit of hope. She grabbed a backpack from the trolley, glanced over her shoulder at the remaining players, and stepped through the doorway.