Pansy Parkinson (Girl 15, Slytherin) had been determined to get as far away from Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) as possible, and so had run as fast as she could away from the clinic. He had killed Gregory Goyle and Draco Malfoy. She had been traveling with a killer.
But now she was deeply regretting leaving the clinic. She had just used up the last of her water, and her leg was hurting more than ever. She had made it this far on pure adrenaline alone, but now it had worn off and she could barely move at all due to the pain.
Up ahead, she could see a small house in the clearing of the forest she was in. Next to it, she could see a small well. She smiled, trying to ignore her throbbing wound. She was extremely thirsty. She just hoped that the well wasn't dry.
After forcing herself forward, she finally reached the well and peered down. She could see her reflection in the water down below. Smiling with relief, she grabbed the rope dangling from the pulley above the well. She pulled with all of her might, raising the heavy bucket from down below. She didn't care if the water was dirty or not, she needed it now.
Finally, the bucket came level with the edge of the well. With one last pull, she sat it on the edge, nearly laughing with relief.
Before she could bring the bucket to her lips, though, she felt something tugging around her neck. 'How annoying,' she thought as she tried to pull it loose. Her annoyance turned to fear as she realized that she couldn't breathe, and that whatever was pulling on her was starting to hurt. Abandoning the bucket, she grabbed her stun gun and set it off behind her.
Theodore Nott (Boy 14, Slytherin) abandoned his garrote, jumping back just in time to avoid being stunned. In one graceful arch, he grabbed his machete as Pansy spun around to face her assailant. Before she had time to react, he swung at her, creating a rather nasty gash diagonally across her face.
Pansy dropped her weapon and brought her hands to her face. Nott used that opportunity to scoop her up and throw her into the well. For her credit, she was still able to scream rather loudly in her condition as she splashed around.
Nott looked down at her, eyes cold. He bent down and picked up the fallen stun gun, regarding it as he held it in his hand. "Such a useless weapon," he said. Still, he put it into his pocket. It might come in useful later.
Satisfied that the girl would die down there in the well, he walked away, grabbing his pack from the doorway of the house he had been resting in.
26 students remaining
September 2 -- 10:18 a.m.
Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) took another swig of whiskey as the trio continued on their way to the clinic. His hand was starting to hurt again.
Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) looked over at him, concern in her eyes. "Are you sure you should be drinking any more of that? You just had some ten minutes ago. If you're not careful, you'll end up getting drunk."
Harry shrugged and took another swig. "Hand hurts."
Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin) walked over to Harry and took the bottle from him. "Whether it hurts or not, she's right. If you get drunk, we've got nothing to sober you up." He took a step back as Harry reached for the bottle. "Besides, even if you don't get drunk, you'll have to go to the bathroom a lot. And with only one hand, I don't think it'd be very easy. And I am certainly not going to help you with that. Maybe Hermione will."
Hermione turned scarlet. "I most certainly will not!"
Harry pouted at the loss of his painkiller, but said nothing.
After a brief pause, Hermione spoke up. "Um, is there any bathroom nearby? I kinda have to go."
Blaise stopped and consulted his map. "Nearest one's at the school, but I don't think you want to go there. There's also a small house or a church, but it'd take at least half an hour before we got to either of those. And that's only if we ran the whole way there."
Hermione frowned. "I'm not sure I can wait that long."
Blaise shrugged, putting the map away. "Well, we're in a forest, so go behind some bushes or something. We'll turn away. Harry, give her your gun."
Harry looked up. "Huh?" he said eloquently.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Your gun. Just in case she has to protect herself. Besides, I don't think you'd be able to handle one very easily without popping stitches."
"Oh. Uh, right." Harry stopped and dug through his pack. He found the gun and handed it to Hermione, who took it and disappeared behind some trees and shrubs.
There was a pause, and then Harry turned to Blaise. "Where do you think Ron went to?"
Blaise shrugged as he took out a cigarette. "Could be anywhere, really. If he's smart, he'll be avoiding open space. So it's likely he took refuge in either the forest or some building. For all I know, he could be at the clinic waiting for you guys." He lit the cigarette.
Harry sighed. "I hope he's all right."
Blaise looked at the other boy from the corner of his eye as he exhaled smoke. "So what do you plan on doing if you find him?"
Harry shrugged. "Escape, I guess. There has to be a way. I mean, the winner gets off this island somehow. All we have to do is find out how, and then use that to escape."
Blaise shrugged. "And how would you escape? You heard what Montgomery said about what would happen if any of us tried. They can probably detect us with these." He pointed at his collar. "How else would they know who was dead or not? Probably have some way of tracking our movements. The second we went out of bounds, boom. No more us."
Harry nodded. "Maybe we could lure him out of the school somehow. Take him hostage or something. Force him to help us get out of here."
A doubtful expression grew on Blaise's face. "There's so many holes with that plan, I don't even know where to begin."
Harry frowned. "What's wrong with it?"
Blaise took a drag of his cigarette. "For starters, how would you lure him out?"
"Uh, maybe we could... Um... Hmm... We could shout insults about his mother. That might work, right?"
Blaise sighed and shook his head. "One, that would alert other people to your position. Two, that wouldn't lure him out. If he felt annoyed enough, I'm sure they have a special command that can detonate anyone's collar, anytime they want. Besides, that's incredibly juvenile and immature."
Harry shrugged again, and Hermione returned.
"So what are we talking about?" she asked as she joined up with the others.
"Escape and why it's highly unlikely, and why Montgomery is such a bastard," Blaise deadpanned.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, then turned to Harry, who was chuckling.
"You guys are weird..." she said they continued on.
26 students remaining
September 2 -- 10:31 a.m.
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) groaned as he got up. Although he had regained consciousness long ago, he had felt the floor was nice and soft, so stayed where he was to rest and think about nothing in particular. That, and when he had attempted to get up before, his side hurt. It still did, but it was just better that he get a move on soon. Besides, while he was back at the clinic and not in danger of being killed any time soon, he might as well tend to his injury.
Going back into the hallway that led to the doctor offices, he tried not to look at the bodies of Goyle and Malfoy. He did, however, allow himself a glance to the supply closet where the fire had been. Sure enough, Neville had put out the fire just as he said. Ron was perplexed as to why he would have done so, but shrugged it off and searched down the hall.
He really wished that Hermione was with him now. He hadn't the faintest idea of how Muggle medicine worked, but was sure that she would know. After all, she was like a walking encyclopedia. She would know how to treat him properly.
He found some bandages in one of the rooms, and went to a restroom with a mirror he had passed. Leaving the door open to let some light in, he took off his robes and shirt, looking at his wound in the mirror. He winced as he saw what it looked like for the first time. His skin was blackened and burnt, and there was blood all around his wound. It wasn't bleeding at the moment, but it was still rather grotesque.
He turned the tap of the sink, hoping that water would come rushing out, but there wasn't even a drop. Ron cursed under his breath, then left the room, leaving his belongings behind. It sickened him to do so, but he would have to search through Goyle's pack for some water.
Carefully stepping over Malfoy's bullet riddled corpse, he knelt down by Goyle, trying to suppress the urge to vomit once again. Careful not to look at the dead boy, he searched through the pack, finally finding some water. Grabbing the bottle, he went back, stopping in one of the doctor offices for some cotton to wipe his wound with.
Back inside the bathroom, he tried to turn the lights on, but no power came. He shrugged and went back to the mirror, pouring some water on a ball of cotton.
After about fifteen minutes, he was done with cleaning his wound. It didn't look nearly as bad as it had when he initially looked at it. Sure, it still looked bad, but nothing that wouldn't heal in time. He wrapped the bandages around himself, then put his shirt back on. He left his robes where they were. They were rather bloodstained, and there was a big hole in the side, so there would be no point in taking them with him.
For a brief moment, he contemplated taking the flail, but opted not to. He didn't think he'd be able to suppress the urge to vomit if he tried to take it. So he checked his map before he left the clinic, then headed south along the shoreline.
26 student remaining
September 2 -- 10:57 a.m.
Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) sat in his tree, watching over the forest down below. It had been rather difficult to climb up there with his gun and pack, but he had managed, and now he had a rather good view. As a bonus, he was hidden from view by the leaves. Someone would have to be standing directly under him and have the foresight to look up to notice him. And by that time, he would already know they were there.
He looked at his tracker again. There was a smattering of dots in the forest. Some moving, some not. None of them were in D-7 with him, though.
After his encounter with Ron almost four hours ago, he decided that it would probably be best that he not come into contact with anyone else. Of all people, he had expected that Ron would listen to his cause and join up with him, but instead he had seemed rather reluctant. It was probably for the best, though. The other boy had appeared injured, anyway.
Stifling a yawn, he glanced at the tracker. There were two dots in the nearby church. They'd been there for at least as long as he'd had the tracker. Probably longer. Neville wondered idly who they might be. He hoped that they were two of the Six.
Six Slytherins remaining, as far as he could tell. He knew for a fact that four were dead. There might be more dead, but he wouldn't know until the noon announcement came. He wasn't sure whether he would be upset or not that he would be denied his vengeance if someone else were to kill one of the Six. It might turn out to be a good thing, after all. It just meant one less person he'd have to track down.
He glanced at his watch. Another hour before the noon announcement would be made. He was starting to grow impatient. He pondered for a moment whether or not he should pass the time with a Slytherin hunt, but ultimately decided not to. He needed a brief rest. He'd been rather busy earlier.
Surveying the tracker once more, he quirked an eyebrow. Three dots slowly heading east from E-6. He went through the class list in his mind, trying to think of who they were most likely to be, but came up blank. Only Harry, Ron and Hermione would actually trust one another enough in a situation like this to team up, and Ron hadn't met with any of them. Ron was either traveling south along the shore alone, or he was the one who had died in F-7 an hour ago.
He wondered. If it came down to those three, which one would be the last one standing? Which one would panic first and kill their friends? Or maybe two of them would sacrifice their lives so the other could carry on. How strong was their bond of friendship?
Neville smirked. Friendship was just an illusion.
26 students remaining
September 2 -- 11:30 a.m.
Parvati Patil (Girl 17, Gryffindor) gently shook her sister awake. She probably could have let the other girl sleep in a little bit longer, and promised to herself that she would let her twin sleep longer next shift.
"Hmm? What is it?" Padma Patil (Girl 16, Ravenclaw) yawned as she sat up and stretched.
"It's 11:30," Parvati smiled. "You wanted me to get you up in time for the announcement."
Padma wiped the sleep out of her eyes. "Yeah. Thanks."
Parvati reached for the list of people they could trust that she had made. "I finished the list. Well, I'm not sure I got everyone, and I wasn't sure of everyone's names, so... Here you go." She handed the paper to her sister.
Padma quirked an eyebrow. "If you weren't sure of someone's name, then they probably shouldn't be on the list." She looked over the list, blushing slightly as she came to one name in particular.
Parvati's smile grew wider. "I knew it! I knew you liked him!"
Padma's eyes widened, and she blushed, looking down. "Is it... is it that obvious?"
Parvati giggled. "To me it is, silly. I don't think anyone else knows, though." She paused, sobering up. "You should tell him."
Padma looked up, and waved her hands in front of her. "I couldn't do that! I mean, under these circumstances..."
Parvati leaned closer, a serious look on her face. "It's because of these circumstances that you should tell him. Otherwise, you'll always live with that regret of what if." Her eyes twinkled. "And don't worry about me, I'll just hook up with Lavender or one of the other girls if the two of you wanted to be alone."
Padma blushed deeply, and stood up, grabbing her pack. "Well, we should probably head out soon. I know you're probably impatient to get to the lookout."
Parvati stood up as well, holding her pack. "Don't change the subject!" she said, smiling.
Padma smiled. "Then stop pressing it. I'll tell you what. If we see him, I'll tell him how I feel. Deal?"
Parvati beamed. "Deal."
They shook on it, then walked out of the church, feeling a lot better than they had earlier in the morning.
26 students remaining
September 2 -- 11:42 a.m.
"This looks like a good place to set up base," Blaise said as he sat his pack down. The trio was currently in E-7, towards the edge of the forest. "I'll go set up the alarm system while we rest."
Hermione looked confused. "Why are we stopping? Shouldn't we head to the clinic?"
"Noon announcement will be soon. 'Sides, we need the rest." He took the wire out of his pack, and walked off.
Harry glanced at Hermione. He was amazed that she could still stand. She wasn't looking very healthy at all. Sensing his gaze, she turned to him, then sat down on the ground. He followed suit.
"You know," she began. "I remember reading something about this in Hogwarts, a History. It wasn't much. Barely a reference, really. But it had mentioned that in 1984, the sixth year class then had been chosen to take part of the program. There weren't very many details, but it gave me enough to conduct some further research."
Harry nodded, prodding her. "What did you find out?"
"Other than what the program was? Well," she continued hesitantly. "I was able to find out who won that year. You know Ron's brother Charlie?" Harry nodded, and she continued. "It was him. He won that year, back when Hogwarts played."
Harry's eye widened. "Oh, god."
Hermione nodded, then started crying. "I'm scared. I'm scared that I'm going to lose you, and Ron, and everyone else. Why do they make us do such horrible things?"
Harry went over to her, trying to console her. "I'm not so sure that it's that they make us do horrible things. They make us choose. Kill or be killed." Just like the prophecy, he thought to himself. "Ultimately, we have free will, so we can choose whether to participate or not."
"But why should we have to?" Hermione sobbed. "It's not right!"
"I don't know," Harry said softly.
Blaise returned, quirking an eyebrow at the sight. He didn't say anything, though, for which Harry was grateful.
They sat there like that until Montgomery's voice resonated over the island. "Good afternoon! This is your supervisor speaking, but you already knew that, didn't you?"
The trio tensed up. Hermione stopped sobbing, although there were still silent tears in her eyes.
"I see you haven't been quite as busy as you were last night," he continued, "but you've still had quite a good morning. So let us go over the dead, shall we?"
Harry's blood boiled at how cheerful Montgomery sounded.
"Firstly, the boys. We begin with Boy 2, Michael Corner."
Blaise put his hand behind his head, a sheepishly guilty look on his face.
"Next we have Boy 9, Gregory Goyle and Boy 13, Draco Malfoy."
Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't imagined that Malfoy would have died so quickly. He wondered just how it was that he had died, and who had killed him...
"And wrapping up the boys, we have Boy 16, Zacharias Smith. We seem to have lost only one of the ladies this time around. Girl 15, Pansy Parkinson. Now let's stop dwelling on the past, and move on to the future! Maps out, boys and girls. Time to announce the new forbidden zones."
Blaise had already taken out their map, Harry noticed.
"At 1 p.m., B-8 will become forbidden. F-1 will follow at 3 p.m. And at 5 p.m., D-5 will round things out. Once more, you might want to leave these zones before they become forbidden. See you at dinner time!"
The trio glanced at one another, but before any of them could say anything, a voice crackled over the island, electronically distorted.
"Hey, everyone--"
26 students remaining