After he had received the preliminary report from Montgomery, Percy Weasley had Apparated straight into the office of his boss, Cornelius Fudge (Minister of Magic). He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say, but he wanted answers about why his little brother was being forced to participate in this year's program. He had time to think about it, though, as apparently the Minister wasn't in.
Percy had run through the hallways of the Ministry, stopping people that he encountered to demand if they knew where the Minister had gone too. None of them knew, though, which did nothing to soothe the panic that Percy was feeling. He occasionally would pop back to the Minister's office to check if he was in yet, but it remained empty. With growing desperation, he ran to one of the lifts, hoping that it would hurry up and get there. After what seemed to take an eternity, it finally arrived, and he got in.
That was where he was at the moment. Waiting impatiently for the lift to take him to level two. He hadn't spoken to his father in over a year, but with no other course of action he could take, he had no choice but to swallow his pride. He just hoped that they wouldn't start arguing.
'Come on, you stupid lift,' he thought. 'Hurry up!' He wasn't sure of who was in charge of the enchantments that made the lifts move, but whoever it was should be fired for making them move so slowly. At long last, it finally arrived at its destination, and Percy raced towards his father's office.
Out of breath, he looked around. The only person who was there was Perkins, who worked with his father in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Percy frowned, and turned to Perkins. "Where's my father?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.
Perkins turned to him, then shook his head. "He's taken the day off. Wouldn't say why. I thought the two of you weren't speaking?"
Percy groaned, then Apparated to the Burrow. All of this running around and Apparating was starting to wear him out. He would have preferred to face his parents under better circumstances in a more neutral territory, but there wasn't any time for that now.
He looked around the living room, not finding anyone around. He could hear soft sobbing coming from the kitchen, however. He followed the sound, and found his parents sitting at the table. His mother was crying, while his father was trying to console her. Percy knocked on the doorframe to get their attention.
They looked over to them, and an awkward silence settled in. Finally, Arthur broke the silence. "What are you doing here?"
"I, uh... Listen, I'm sorry about, well, about everything. But I need your help. Ron's class--"
"We already know," Molly said quietly between sobs. "They informed us yesterday."
Percy was taken aback. They already knew, and hadn't told him? "Then you know we have to go save him! All we have to do is Apparate there and get their collars off!"
Arthur shook his head sadly. "If anyone tries to intervene, they'll detonate all of the collars. Besides, they have wards that prevent anyone from Apparating anywhere except the school. And even then, only authorized people are allowed to do so."
"But there has to be something we can do! What about a port key?"
"Same problem. They would just detonate the collars before we could find anyone." Arthur sighed. "There's nothing we can do."
Percy's mind raced, trying to think of something. "Well, maybe if I talked to the Minister, I could get him to call it off."
Molly laughed bitterly. "You really think he'd listen? Once the program starts, it doesn't get called off for any reason."
Percy slumped against the wall dejectedly, still trying to come up with another plan. There was another pause.
"Is he still alive?" Arthur asked quietly.
Percy nodded. "He was when I went for the preliminary report. That's how I found out that his class was playing."
"I'm sorry."
Percy shook his head. "Don't be." His mind finally clicked on something resembling a plan. It was horrible, but if he was able to pull it off, he might be able to save Ron and the rest of his classmates. He looked back to his parents. "I guess this is goodbye then, right? Maybe there's nothing you can do, but there is something I can do." With that, he Disapparated.
27 students remaining
September 2 -- 7:36 a.m.
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) was still sitting in shock after his encounter with Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor). Ron knew that one of his classmates had been responsible for killing at least three of his classmates, but had never imagined in his wildest dreams that Neville could be the one responsible. He had always been a rather shy and quiet boy. What could possibly have happened to turn someone like that into a killer? And why was it that he himself still lived when others hadn't been so lucky?
He was still pondering that when he heard rustling in the bushes behind him. Wondering if Neville had come back to finish him off, he picked up the katana that had remained untouched on the ground in front of him, unsheathing it. He then stood up, facing the direction the noise had come from.
Out from the bushes emerged Pansy Parkinson (Girl 15, Slytherin). When she saw Ron, she froze in her tracks, eyes wide. It had taken her over three hours to make it this far with her injury, and now it appeared as though her luck had run out.
"Stay where you are!" Ron commanded as he held the katana. Unlike its original owner, Ron had no idea on how to wield it properly.
Pansy dropped her pack onto the ground, and slumped against a tree. "Before you kill me, just tell me. How many are yours?"
Ron blinked. "What?"
Pansy glared up at him. "How many of the deaths announced were your kills? What number will I be?"
Ron's face softened momentarily, but hardened again as he remembered just who it was he was talking to. "How many of them were yours?"
Pansy sneered. "The last time I checked, stun guns weren't even lethal. And even if they were, do you really think I could even get close to anyone like this?" She pointed at her injured leg. "So if you're going to kill me, do it now. I can't run very fast, so it's an easy kill." She threw her stun gun onto the ground. "Not even armed now. So come at me. Finish me off."
Ron lowered the katana. "I'm not going to kill you."
Pansy scowled at him. "And why the hell not? This is the moment that you've been waiting for, right? I've always been a thorn in your side. So why don't you remove the thorn already? If you don't kill me, someone else will."
Ron re-sheathed the katana. "One, you're injured. Two, you're a girl. Three," he looked at her, "I'm not playing."
Pansy sighed. "Fine. If you're not going to kill me, then I'll be on my way, then." She bent down to pick up her discarded stun gun, wincing as pain shot up her leg.
"Hey, wait." He knew he was going to regret this, but he wouldn't feel right with himself if he didn't at least offer to help. "If you're injured, you shouldn't be moving around at all. Where is it that's so important that you have to go to?"
Pansy stood up and glared at him. "If you must know, I'm going to the clinic. I don't know about you, but I wasn't granted with any first aid supplies, so I'm going to treat my wound properly there."
Ron's eyes widened. "You can't! Neville might still be lurking around! He'd kill you!"
The girl looked at him skeptically. "Neville? As in Neville Longbottom? The clumsy little crybaby? What does he have to do with anything?" she shook her head, and painfully limped past Ron.
"He's the one who's been shooting people!" Ron exclaimed. Pansy froze in her tracks, then turned back around to face him. "He's the one who has that gun! I'm sure you must have heard it, too! If you go out there, he might come back and kill you!"
"How do you know?"
"Because I saw him earlier. He's the one who gave me this." Ron gestured to the katana. "He must have taken it off of one of the people he'd killed. And when he turned to leave, I saw his gun. I don't know why he didn't kill me. Maybe he didn't think I was a threat, but--" He stopped, recalling part of his earlier conversation with Neville. "It's because I'm not a Slytherin," he muttered to himself. He looked back to Pansy. "But he wouldn't have any such reservations with you."
She sighed. "So what am I supposed to do, huh? Just wait here and go untreated? I'd really like to get to the clinic sometime today and get my leg taken care of. And how can you be certain he won't come back here, huh? He might change his mind about killing you. What then? I think I'll take my chances out there."
"At least let me go with you. If all you have is a stun gun, it won't do much to help you. I can help protect you." He pointed to the injury on his side. "And I probably should get this taken care of."
Pansy's brows furrowed. "How'd you get that injury?"
"I, uh, I was attacked. Got away, though." Ron felt like smacking himself as he realized that if they went to the clinic, Pansy was likely to find the corpses of Goyle and Malfoy. Of course, if he acted surprised, she might never have to know that Ron had ever been at the clinic.
Pansy looked at him skeptically, as though she was going to say something else, but then thought better of it. She slowly nodded, and said, "Let's go, then."
27 students remaining
September 2 -- 7:48 a.m.
Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff) had hoped that by the time she reached the clinic, the shooter would still be lurking about. After hearing the pleasant sound of guns firing all through the night and morning, she decided that she needed to get a gun for herself. And what better gun than one capable of rapid firing? She wasn't stupid, though. She knew in a fair fight, she wouldn't win. But she didn't fight fair. Everybody believed her to be sweet and innocent. A fact that she could use to her advantage. She already had, last night.
A waste of time and energy, really. What kind of weapon was a fork? It was even worse than the sickle she had. Alas, when she arrived at the clinic, the shooter was long gone. She was able to find a flare gun, though, which was definitely a step up. She also found the corpses of Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy. They both looked like they died horribly. She was envious that it hadn't been her that killed them. But, it was two less classmates that she had to deal with.
She had contemplated taking the flail lodged in Goyle's skull, but after pulling on it for a minute or so, decided not to take it. Not only wouldn't it dislodge, but it also looked rather heavy. And she could make do with the flare gun and sickle for now, anyway. No sense in slowing herself down with a useless weapon like that.
She hoped the shooter would hurry up and kill someone else soon. It was downright difficult to track them down when she didn't know where they were. Maybe if she got lucky, though, she could find someone else in possession of a gun. Even though she had no doubt that she could win without one, she still wanted to harness the power of a firearm. Inspire fear within her classmates moments before they died. Let everybody else out there who was still alive know that another one of their own had just perished.
She wondered where her lackeys were. Even though she didn't really care for either of them, if either of them had been granted a gun, she might have been able to take it from them. But it was too late for such thoughts now.
She consulted the 'I will kill' list she had written back in the classroom, and crossed off the names of Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle. She was sure they wouldn't mind. She wanted to know exactly who she might be up against, so she crossed names off as she came across their bodies, or when they were announced. She had come across the body of Daphne Greengrass when she had gone off in search of the shooter with the wonderful gun. Alas, Daphne's weapon and the contents of her pack were already gone by the time Hannah got there. If the shooter wasn't careful, she might consider him to be a worthy opponent.
Taking one last look around the clinic, she decided that it was finally time to move on. There wasn't anything left of any interest. After careful deliberation, she finally decided to head north along the coastline.
27 students remaining
September 2 -- 8:02 a.m.
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) was getting worried. Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) was shaking like a leaf. He had noticed her shaking earlier in the morning, but figured it was due more to her being scared, or cold, or both. But it was starting to warm up, and she was safe for the time being. Maybe he was just being an insensitive dunce, but he couldn't figure out what was wrong.
Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) rubbed out the butt of the cigarette he had been smoking, then went over to Hermione and felt her forehead. "Bloody hell," he muttered. He turned to Harry. "Check the map. There's a clinic somewhere on the island. It should be listed on it somewhere."
Harry nodded, as he rummaged one-handed through the pack for the map. His left hand was still bleeding from being cut with Zacharias' hatchet earlier. "Why am I looking for the clinic?"
"She's burning up. Might have a fever. Well, more like she does have a fever. You find it yet?"
Hermione shook her head. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
Harry glanced up at her, then looked back down to the map. "G-9. Southeast from here."
Blaise nodded, and got up. "I'll start deconstructing the alarm system. No sense in letting good wire go to waste."
Hermione tried to stand up, but when a sudden feeling of light-headedness overtook her, she sat back down. "I'm telling you guys, I'm fine!"
Blaise looked at her seriously. "You're not fine. You're burning up. If we don't get you treated up soon, you'll be feeling a lot worse later." His face softened. "Besides, we might run into your friend along the way, and you won't have to worry so much."
Hermione looked as though she was going to argue some more, but then sighed and relented. "How long do you think it will take for us to get there?"
Blaise looked at his watch. "Not quite sure. Depends on how often we'll have to stop to rest, and whether we want to go the short way in the open or the long way in the forest. I strongly recommend the long way."
Harry looked up in alarm. "But if she's sick, shouldn't we try to get to the clinic as soon as possible? I mean, you've got that shotgun, and I have Michael's gun, so we should be fine, right?"
Blaise shook his head. "It's better to stick to some semblance of cover. If we go out in the open, we'll become nothing more than moving targets. There's at least one other person out there with a gun. Probably more."
Harry slowly nodded. "At least two, that I know of. The rapid shooter and Crabbe."
"When did you see Crabbe?" Hermione asked.
"Last night. Before I went to the store. He came across me as I was hiding out in the forest, but backed off and ran away. I don't think he's playing."
Blaise shrugged. "In any case, we should get moving. I'd like to get there by noon, just in case it becomes forbidden at one."
After he had deconstructed their alarm system and put the wire back into his pack, the trio gathered their things and began their trek.
27 students remaining
September 2 -- 8:11 a.m.
He had absolutely no idea how he was going to pull this off, but was going to try anyway. The program had to be stopped, and if no one else was going to do anything about it, then all hope rested upon him.
After leaving the Burrow, Percy Weasley had Apparated straight to his flat in London. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, but anything that might help him on his crusade would do. The best he could find, though, were some books on advanced charms. He had skimmed through them, hoping to find something useful, but to no avail. He let out a cry of frustration, then grabbed his money and Apparated to Knockturn Alley.
He had never been there before, and wasn't quite sure of where exactly the nearest bookstore was, but was sure he'd be able to find one soon enough. As he walked down the alley, he got a few stares from people that might have believed him to be out of place. At that point of time, though, he was well beyond caring what anyone else thought of him.
Finally finding a bookstore, he walked in. There were a couple of other customers in the store, but after briefly looking at him, they just as quickly turned away. He ignored them, and headed towards the shopkeeper, who was watching him amusedly.
"I'm looking for a book where I can learn a few good spells quickly," Percy told the merchant, keeping his voice low. "Time is of the utmost importance."
The shopkeeper smirked. "Is that right? I suppose you're rather new at this, so I have just the book." He walked around the counter, heading towards the bookshelves. "Ah, yes. A wonderful encyclopedia, written by one Malachai Ambrose. Rather graphic pictures, but what better way to learn something in a hurry, yes?" He grabbed the thick book and went back to the counter, setting it down in front of Percy. "Will this do?"
Percy opened the book, leafing through it. It was perfect. He nodded, and put his money down on the counter. "Will this be enough?"
The shopkeeper quickly counted, then nodded. "Yes, this should cover it. Do you need a bag?"
"I should be fine. Good day to you, then." The transaction complete, he walked out of the bookshop and Apparated back to his flat.
Shoving things off the kitchen table, he grabbed a chair and placed the heavy book onto the table. Hoping he would find something useful, he started skimming through The Encyclopedia of Dark Magic.
27 students remaining