House: Slytherin

Category: Themed

Prompts: Photography & "If you think for one second that I'm going to back down," [Speech]

Characters: Harry Potter; Hermione Granger; Adrian Pucey; Theodore Nott; Luna Lovegood; Cho Chang; Tom Riddle; Hannah Abbott; Cedric Diggory

World: AU (Alternative Universe)

Word count: 3037 (Excluding Author's Note, but including entire Short Story and Title)

Summary: To spread house unity, Hogwarts holds a 'game' every year. Ten students from all four houses are paired together to solve a system of riddles and puzzles. Only problem is, a student is captured and killed every time they do. The only hope that the students have is to figure out who is behind all the murders and try not to get killed in the process. The answer would be simple if the killer wasn't already among them, already anticipating their next move.

Rating: T

Author's Note:

As always, enjoy

-Carolare Scarletus

-Hush-

Adrian Pucey tried his best to block out the cacophony, but as the voices rose, so did his anxiety. Trepidation didn't take the least bit of pity on him as he followed closely behind Luna and Cedric. From what he could see in the limited space of light, their bodies were shaking with fear. Neither of them had spoken to the other. Their nerves were a palpable force in the air. His body couldn't help feeding off their energies. A pulse ran through him. While they struggled to reign the offending demons that lurked in the portraits, he found it harder to keep his composure as time warred on. Each step seemingly hindered their survival and the possibility of coming out of this alive was extraordinarily slim. As Adrian saw it, the chances of living dwindled with each step they took.

The walls were speaking to him.

The Slytherin lifted his head. The more he tried to listen, the louder the voices became. Adrian didn't know then, but it was a sound that only he was able to hear. He crept along silently, his brandished his wand and poised out in front of him. They continued to march like an army of dead knights against the resistance before turning the corner. They met even more darkness, where new obstacles were born.

The corridors were alive and beating to a drum of their own accord. Its steely breath was a visible passage in the distance as the group crept along the walls, keeping to the light of the torches that guided their path. There was a commendable prominence among the portraits. None spoke nor blinked in their direction; it was as if their muteness was a message from the watchers themselves. If they listened carefully, hushed whispers could be heard, providing a sort of closing argument that they were not alone. It hit them long before they made the journey across the corridor, testing their endurance. Granted, it had been sometime before they decided they needed to address the shallowness of the hall; but, regardless of what they felt, the provoking spirit had not moved an inch. Their wands penetrated the thick heaviness that was seclusion as they marched further. It was the only thing that kept them safe.

Hogwarts never felt as foreboding as it did now. It was even worse at night. The stone walls were colder than normal, the chilling gap between life and death even more prominent. Every little noise was amplified ten-fold, sending chills through their bodies. With the intensive stares, the dank atmosphere and the dreadful sense of being watched, there was no doubt in the seventh year's mind that they weren't alone. Adrian wasn't the only one who noticed. He felt a sudden pinch inside his chest. As anxious as he was, Adrian couldn't help feeling that something was wrong.

They marched in front of an old tapestry, and once Adrian saw what it was, his skin pricked and he let out a breath. The depiction was of an old woman whose eyes had been gouged from their sockets, her mouth completely torn from its natural formation. Dark splotches of what had to be blood stained her skin. Her body was marred. Deep lacerations decorated her skin.

The portrait's breaking cries raced down the corridors and became an eccentric part of the games. Being out during this time of night weighed heavily on their nerves. This year's location was fortunate enough to be on the grounds of Hogwarts, though it did little to assuage the student's growing fears. Rules had to be followed, and if they weren't, it had to be repaid. Hogwarts was eerily quiet. Even at the eleventh hour, the portraits wouldn't utter a single word. It had been forbidden for them to do so. Their tongues had been taken from them, a damaging spell placed upon their frames to control them. He visited them every night, and this one was no different. Though, they knew of the task the students were engaged in, so they desperately wanted to speak.

Adrian glanced at the portrait of the woman one last time. If she could, what would she say?

"This way," Potter murmured. He was the only surviving Gryffindor. Granger had been one of the first players to go. Out of the players on their team, Slytherin had both their representatives. Theodore Nott was his only companion. From what he could tell, he was having one hell of a time coming to terms with what they just saw.

Written on the wall in warm blood was: Hogwarts school will slowly burn.

"What kind of joke is this?" Cedric snapped. The Hufflepuff waked up to the wall and looked the words over. "They can't be serious.

Adrian, who had been standing behind Luna, came forward. His dark eyes scanned the words. "Seems like the Watchers aren't as entertained as we had hoped," he murmured. He turned to the others. "Let's keep going."

"Who suddenly put you in charge?" Potter hissed.

Annoyed, Adrian looked at him before joining Nott.

"Alright there, Nott?" Adrian stepped back and asked. He looked at the dark outlines of the others before saying in a low voice," I bet it's going to be one of them next."

"Don't say shite like that," Nott hissed, regaining some control over his nerves.

Frowning, Adrian quickly recovered from the outlandish rebuttal. "We've got to stick together, Nott. Whatever is happening… the Gryffindor's are behind it."

Granted, that was possibly the exact thought that was running through everyone's mind. Though, no one would admit it. Ever since these games started, Adrian's darkest fears were realized. No one was safe. One House blamed another, but a single thought did run through his mind. This is exactly what the Watchers wanted: to see them make alliances and see them break trust all for the adoring show of entertainment. Adrian knew that the Headmaster, when he drew up the games, had had every right intention. But, when he looked at it, he knew there was a more sinister allegation underlying such a noble trade.

As the group walked, their breaths held permanently inside of their chests, they heard it.

"What was that," Luna Lovegood asked, her voice trembling. Everyone suddenly stopped and listen to the wail that she had heard. But none came.

Cedric Diggory, who had been walking alongside of her, placed a single hand on her shoulder and whispered, "Ignore it." When she made no sign of doing so, he carried on with, "They're trying to play tricks on you, Lovegood. It's best to forget it."

Adrian saw Luna's hand tighten in Cedric's. He could read her immense fear through the touch that they shared. They continued down the hall, aided only by the light coming from the tip of their wands. The strange sounds of the halls sent chills to slither down their spines. The hairs on their arms stood at attention, their hands became clammy, and their breaths remained a painful score in their chests while they ventured further into the maze.

Lost wasn't the word for it.

Adrian felt the disorienting wave before anyone else; and, before they knew it, they were in an entirely different section of the castle from the one that were trespassing.

Hogwart's was trying to confuse them. This lassitude of it weighed heavily on them.

Darkness caved in. The whispers grew to a startling crescendo. Their voices sounded like knives scraping against a board. It was raucous and cruel. The group huddled closer together, their faces obscured by the opposing dimness. Sharp needles pricked their skin. The group crept along the walls. Their breaths mingled together, their skin standing at attention. Just as they rounded the corner, the dreadfully close apparition closed in.

A loud scream filled the corridors, echoing down the deserted hall and reverberating back where they stood. Bursts of tiny balls of light came forth through the darkness, and in a powerful sweep, a stead of footsteps hurried down the gallery. Their hearts beat fast. Every heavy breath was wrought with difficulty as they tried desperately to escape the deadly trap that lay before them. Little did they know, the further away they got from the dead body at the end of the corridor, the closer they got to their killer.

"This way!" one exclaimed, trying to usher them down the corridor. "Quickly! There's no time to argue. Just go!" Harry was captain of the team. He ushered them in the opposite direction of the noise. While the others were quick to question his integrity, Harry was quick to rectify their concerns. He and Theodore Nott were the only Slytherins on the team, and the only remaining players were Harry, Cedric and Luna. Their partners had been killed earlier, each in their own brutal vision.

This game was going horribly wrong.

What was supposed to unite the four houses in game and wit was turning out to be a freak horror show where everyone was a suspect. The halls were not helping. Their winding twists and turns were causing them to lose track of where they've been, and where they hadn't trespassed. It became evident right from the start that the castle was trying to trap them. That it was trying to lure them into a pendulum of death and pit them against one another. The only thing that they could count on was themselves.

The group ran until their lungs felt as if they were going to collapse and their legs were going to give out. Time eclipsed them; they didn't know just how long they ran, and once they were able to collect together they were in a whole new part of the castle. No familiar landmarks aided their journey. The portraits in this area were once again motionless. There was once life in these walls. Now, there was nothing. The group ran… and stopped at a tapestry.

What they just witnessed back there was not a dream. The blood that poured out of her wounds was real. As real as the slashes to her torso and the petrified moment that had been etched into her horror-stricken face before her death. Hannah Abbot had been murdered, and Adrian had a hunch who it could be.

Adrian ushered them down the hall, and once assuring that everyone was accounted for, he joined the end of the group. His heart pumped and ache with the excursion of running. As much as Adrian would like to forget, the image had been burned into his mind. Adrian led them to a small classroom. One after one they filed into the room and Adrian was the last to come through. As he stood there and placed protection spell after spell upon the door, Harry readily questioned his choice of shelter.

"What the hell are we doing here, Pucey?"

"What the hell is your problem, Potter?"'

Adrian could feel the unbinding suspicion radiate off the Gryffindor.

In no mood to fight, Harry shook his head and said, "What was that out there?"

"I don't know." He said firmly, placing his wand in his back pocket and looking about the room. Only half of the team was left. As leader, he needed to figure out what was happening, and quick. Whatever was out there was designed to track down, attack, and kill. "Until we can figure it out, we'll stay here."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"What do you think?"

"Haven't got any bright ideas."

"What is your problem, Potter! You saw for yourself, Abbott was killed! Chang was slaughtered and the only thing you can think of is your damnable pride!"

Harry didn't say anything and neither did Adrian. The amount of silence that fell between them angered Adrian. It reached monumental proportions before it peaked and he let out a challenging sound of his own.

"If you think for one second," Adrian started, his voice rising higher and higher with each uttered word, "that I'm going to back down, then you're wrong!"

Harry let out something that was a growl. All the while, Adrian was scaring the rest of their team.

'Hogwarts is going to fill with flood… fill it with blood,' the voice whispered. With each pass of the phrase, it grew louder until the whole classroom was filled with its cursive hymn.

"Make it stop…" Luna whimpered, drawing her hands to her ears. "Make it STOP!"

Harry looked to her, but it was too late.

"What have you done?" He asked Adrian.

The Slytherin said nothing as he glided over to where he stood. Harry stepped back, watching the tips of his feet hover over the floor boards, his mouth agap.

"What is it that you want, Pucey?" he asked sternly. A shiver ran through him.

The young heir stopped and turned. "You know very well what I want."

With quick movements, Adrian appeared behind him. Before Harry had any chance to recover, Adrian kicked his leg, bringing him down to his knees, and watched as he heaved in reassured agon. Adrian's eyes were locked in a permanent state of heat and disgust as the remnants of what they witnessed fluttered back into their minds and into the recess of the abyss from whence it came.

He had no time to prepare himself for the impact. Crying out sharply, Harry looked at the very spot where Hermione's blood spilt from her body, where it ran in tangible streams. Adrian let out a raucous laugh, to which Harry curled up in a tight ball upon hearing it. The sound of it was excruciatingly painful, but no painful than the memory of defiling not only his best friend, but others prior to that performance. Whatever was out there touched them all in one way or another, laying its hands on them as if it had the absolute right of the Gods to take their bodies. With each conquest, there was bloodshed. There was no telling how many students lost themselves to the portraits, or how much blood now tainted its hands. Everyone was tainted with sin, but no one was far greater damned than someone who would go as far as touching an innocent for their own selfish pleasure.

Adrian wasn't any different. He enjoyed every refined offering given to him, and he still wanted more. Flesh, drink, food- nothing was out of terms when it came to the riches that the world could offer, and his adversary was no different. The only variance was he knew how to control himself. The grotesque reason was that he lived to hear the cries of his victims. Their blood was like the wine that he so craved; their shrieks were like hearing them crying out as they died around him. Everything about him was sick.

"You're insane," Harry seethed, outraged. He swung his leg back, preparing to kick him and just when his foot contacted his side, the wizard's hand shot out, catching him around the ankle and yanking him to the ground. Fortunately, Adrian was quicker.

"Insane," Adrian spat eagerly, "is wasting what power is presented to you, Potter." The crooked man chuckled then, gathering his strength and standing with all his might. "You see, only a fool would do that. You saw for yourself. "

"You defiled them right where we stand." Adrian slowly pulled back from the realm of his rival's fragile body, looking at the shocked expression as it took shape on his face. It was the most satisfying lecture he has had to date, and the look of pure terror was nothing more than a liberation that he willingly took homage in. He bathed in the idea that the man was caught, sickened by his own greed. The only thing to do was take him, then he truly would be in possession of something magnificent, even for him. "I suspect you enjoyed it, taking them like that. Even I would take such pleasure, but at least I would ensure that my conquest is willing before I sullied their body. What right did you have to taint them with your filth, hmm, Potter?"

Adrian's hands were around his neck. His eyes were deranged with hysteria, and his lip was quirked in the most atrocious manner. His eyes gleamed.

"You asked what I wanted from you, and the answer is simple." Adrian raised his hand, a vicious grin forming on his lips. "Give me your soul."

Before Harry could resist, however, Adrian was in his mind. His hands were gripping his head in a locked vice, digging into his skin. And there was nothing he could have stopped him from silencing him.

The puppeteer watched gleefully as the students raced through the halls and into the countless traps he laid out. A cheerful tune played in accordance to their captures, and with each student taken and placed into their frames, he added more to his tuneless melody.

"Hogwarts school will slowly burn… Slowly burn," sang the puppeteer with glee. "What do you think, my dear?" He hoisted his treasure's body close to his, smirking as he did so. Her body was entirely too limp, but a simple spell would do just the trick. "Don't be shy, love."

The girl tilted her head, her eyes distant globes. She said nothing.

"Ah, not going to speak?" he asked, snickering. "Very well. I shall make you."

Tom Riddle moved his hand so it rested against her back. In an instant, she came alive.

"S-s-stop!" the girl begged. "N-no more!"

He clucked his tongue thoughtfully at her plea. "If I do, what will I get out of it? Besides, this is so much fun!" Tom let out a rapturous laugh before moving his hand again. "What do you think, Hermione?"

This time, she didn't get to speak. The spell he placed on her forbid it. Instead, he spoke for her.

"Hogwarts is going down, going down…Fire and Burn."

An alluring chuckle joined his own, and when Tom looked to the side of him, he saw Harry Potter in his fullest glory: his eyes gouged out from the sockets and a bottomless gap where his mouth had been.

Oh, yes.

He should have remained silent.