Cornelius Fudge (Minister of Magic) was in a very foul mood. He had been stuck inside a meeting with the other world leaders all morning. It was the same as it had been every year he had attended since he had become Minister of Magic. Some of the leaders wanted to put Program 12 on hold indefinitely, and this year's excuse was that running it while You-Know-Who was running around was dangerous. Naturally, there was opposition to its cancellation, but not quite as much as there had been the year before. Even the American Secretary of Magic seemed like she was wavering on the matter, which was rather surprising due to how violent and disrespectful American youth were these days. She of all people should be one of the most vehement supporters of the program.
Before they had taken their break for lunch, they decided that the continuance of the program would all depend on how this year went. If things didn't go smoothly, not only would the program be cancelled, but they made veiled threats that Fudge might very well lose his job. His entire career was on the line.
To make matters worse, when he returned to his office, a secretary informed him that his own junior assistant had been arrested after attempting to sabotage the program. Fudge was certain that the other leaders would have a good laugh about that, and use it as extra ammunition toward canceling the program.
They were supposed to meet again in less than half an hour, and he was supposed to go over the preliminary report that he was supposed to have been given earlier. He supposed that he could apparate to the island himself and get Montgomery to report directly to him, but there wasn't enough time left.
Things were falling apart.
24 students remaining
September 2 -- 1:57 p.m.
Justin Finch-Fletchley (Boy 6, Hufflepuff) held his crossbow steady, taking aim at the boy running below. Although Neville Longbottom (Boy 11, Gryffindor) wasn't one of his own disloyal housemates, the other boy held that gun, which Justin had long ago decided he wanted for himself. He shifted to get a better shot, and aimed carefully, so that he would hit the other boy as he ran past. Careful now, and fire!
Neville stopped short, narrowly avoiding being hit by a crossbolt. Hoisting his gun at the ready, he glared at the direction it had come from. Someone had just attacked him. Well, they gave him no choice but to attack right back.
Justin frowned as he reloaded the crossbow he held. He hated how long it took to reload. He looked down below him, seeing that Neville had noticed him, and was aiming the gun at him. Justin swore.
Keeping his gun trained on Justin, Neville looked at him coldly. "I suppose there would be no point in asking you why you just fired at me, right?"
Beads of sweat ran down Justin's forehead. "I wasn't supposed to miss." He shook his head, and glared down at the other boy. "You don't deserve that weapon!" he shouted. "You're just like all the others! Stupid and weak!"
Neville raised an eyebrow. "Let me get this straight, you try to kill the guy with the gun, fail, and then insult him?" He sighed and shrugged. "It's a pity, really." He pulled the trigger of his gun, shooting Justin out of the tree.
He walked over to other boy's fallen pack, and dumped its contents onto the ground. "Hmm?" He set his smoking gun down on the ground, and picked up a couple of the throwing knives. "Interesting..."
Justin tried to crawl over to his crossbow. He might still have a chance...
Neville got up and stepped on Justin's hand. "Looks like you either got lucky with two weapons, or you killed someone and took theirs." He kicked the other boy over with his foot, so that Justin was facing him. "Either way, it makes no difference to me." He knelt down and stabbed the throwing knives into Justin's eyes, blinding him. "You're just like them..."
Justin screamed as he raised his hands. He grabbed Neville's wrists as the other boy pulled out the knives. Neville smiled, then jerked his hands enough so that the knives he was holding slashed open Justin's wrists. The other boy let go, and Neville calmly walked back to his pack and gun. After depositing the contents of Justin's pack into his own, he pondered on whether or not to take the crossbow as well. He didn't really need it, and it would just make his already heavy pack even heavier, but on the other hand, if he didn't take it, someone else might. He might not be so lucky as to hear them before they could strike next time.
Coming to a compromise, he put the crossbolts into his pack and stood up. Without them, the crossbow wouldn't be of much use as a weapon. He glanced over to Justin, who was whimpering as he bled to death. He hated to leave a job unfinished, because for all he knew, someone might find him and tend to his wounds. The last thing he wanted was to die before his time. He didn't want to use his gun again, although he had plenty of bullets left. He might need them later. And he certainly wasn't going to waste a grenade on the dying boy.
Taking out the rest of the throwing knives, he walked over to Justin and pinned his hands to the ground. He paused as the boy cried out faintly. He held one of the knives that hadn't been used yet, and stabbed it as deep as he could right below Justin's ribcage. Pulling down hard, he made a vertical slit down his abdomen. He paused once more. The other boy barely made a sound except for his ragged breathing. He wasn't dead yet?
Neville pulled the knife out of the other boy's wound and stood up. He walked over towards Justin's head, and stomped down as hard as he could on his windpipe, crushing it.
After a few minutes had passed, he released his foot, certain the other boy was dead. Sure enough, the other boy was still. Satisfied, Neville finally grabbed his belongings and went on his way.
23 students remaining
September 2 -- 2:04 p.m.
Wayne Hopkins (Boy 10, Hufflepuff) remained frozen in horror at the scene that had just unfolded. He knew that Neville had killed others before, but never imagined that he could be capable of doing something so savage and vicious. Wayne wasn't quite sure whether he should continue following the other boy or not, but ultimately decided that it was better to do so. With only one bullet, he wouldn't have a very easy time out there on his own. No, it was better to stick close to the other boy as the numbers dwindled. Even though it did make him want to vomit.
Besides, he wanted to stick to his plan. Follow him, and when the time was right and they were the only ones left, shoot him. It wouldn't do much good to lose him now.
Quietly, he followed the other boy.
23 students remaining
September 2 -- 2:22 p.m.
Ron Weasley (Boy 19, Gryffindor) had stumbled upon the general store purely by chance. He had been rather hesitant to enter at first, but after debating with himself for a few minutes on the best course of action to take, ultimately decided to enter. Anything was better than hanging around the forest. And he might be able to rest there, besides. He was growing rather tired.
The first thing he noticed when he entered was a bloodstain on the floor. It looked like someone had been injured here or something. He wondered who it was. He hoped it wasn't any of his friends.
He really missed them. To be perfectly honest, he wasn't so sure that he was going to survive, and he didn't want to die alone. He knew that there were many people actually playing and killing. Some with guns, some with other weapons most likely. The number of gunshots and deaths didn't quite add up.
It seemed so very long ago, when he and his friends had met up at the train station. He wondered if what Ginny had said about Hermione having feelings for him was true. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about her. Sure, she was a friend, and she was a girl, and he felt differently about her than he did Harry, but he wasn't quite sure whether it was just friendship or something more. Maybe she had been right about him having the emotional maturity of a teaspoon.
But yesterday was an entire lifetime ago. A lifetime when their biggest worry was about inane things like what classes they were going to take, whether they were going to end up getting detention from Snape, who they liked, and other simple things like that. He wished that he had a time-turner, so he could go back to that life. Even if he survived, he doubted that he could ever go back to that life. Not without his friends.
'Yesterday, I woke up in the morning, late as usual. Outside the birds were chirping, and downstairs my Mum was yelling at me to get out of bed and get ready to go. Sleepily, I tried to shout down for her to give me five more minutes. I don't think I sounded very coherent, though, because she sent Ginny upstairs to wake me up. I yelled at her for pulling me out of bed, then went downstairs and had breakfast. The kitchen smelled nice. Like coffee and sausage. We were running late, so I barely had time to get dressed before we had to leave. I miss that life full of all those simple little things.'
Ron curled up in a ball and cried.
23 students remaining
September 2 -- 2:45 p.m.
Vicky Frobisher (Girl 7, Gryffindor) was really beginning to hate the forest. She had been wandering around ever since she left the school, occasionally stopping to rest. She didn't really have anywhere to go, or anyone she wanted to look for, but there were quite a few people she wanted to avoid. Such as Hannah Abbott (Girl 1, Hufflepuff). It was just plain scary how everyone believed Hannah to be some sweet and innocent little girl. If they knew half the things Vicky knew about the other girl, they certainly wouldn't think that anymore.
She held her gun as she looked around. As much as she wanted to get out of the damn forest, she didn't want to risk exposing herself in the open. Up ahead she could see an old house with a shed. Maybe she could hide out in there for the time being. She hated all this moving around.
She approached carefully, hoping that no one else was hiding in the house. Just a few more steps.
BANG! One of the wooden posts on the porch she was standing on shattered into splinters. Vicky quickly ducked to the ground, partially hidden by the railing supports. She looked in the direction of where the shots had come from. The shed. Someone was in the shed.
Well, crap.
23 students remaining
September 2 -- 2:49 p.m.
It had taken them most of the day, but the trio was almost at the clinic. And not a moment too soon, as Hermione Granger (Girl 8, Gryffindor) had nearly collapsed with exhaustion almost half an hour ago, and had to be carried the rest of the way.
As they approached the clinic, they could hear gunshots firing nearby. Harry Potter (Boy 15, Gryffindor) exchanged a look with Blaise Zabini (Boy 20, Slytherin), who was currently carrying Hermione on his back.
Harry set the pack he was carrying onto the ground, and took out the Smith & Wesson. "I'm going to check it out," he said, pointing in the direction the gunshots were coming from.
"Don't be stupid!" Blaise said, frowning.
Harry ignored him, and ran towards the gunshots. He could hear Blaise shouting something behind him, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to stand by and let more of his classmates get killed. Not like before. He could have saved Parvati and Padma, and just stood by and watched them die. But no more. No more!
The gunfire continued as he ran. Finally getting to the scene, he could see Vicky Frobisher ducked on the porch of a house, having a shoot-out with Eloise Midgen (Girl 13, Hufflepuff). He couldn't tell who was winning from where he was.
He shook his head, reminding himself that it didn't matter who was winning. They shouldn't be firing at one another. He raised his gun in the air and fired a shot. Both girls stopped and looked at him.
"Stop! You don't have to do this!" he shouted at them.
"The hell you doing, Potter?" Vicky asked, standing up and lowering her gun. "You trying to get killed?"
He turned to Vicky. "We don't have to do this! There are others not playing. I'm sure that if we all worked together, we can find a way out of here! So please!"
"They're out in the open, aren't they Anton?" Eloise said from the doorway of the shed. She fired her gun, and Vicky shrieked with pain as the bullet tore through her shoulder.
Harry turned to Eloise. "No, wait!" He glanced at Vicky, who was now running off, then turned back to Eloise, who smiled and skipped towards him, a crazed look in her eyes.
She looked down at her picture of Anton Rex, who smiled and posed in the photograph. "Bad girl ran away. Always teasing poor Eloise. Laughing, and playing connect the dots, and laughing some more. But bad boy still here." She aimed her gun right below his nose, finger on the trigger. "Boys always teasing. Never want anything to do with poor little Eloise except to make fun of her and make her cry."
Harry closed his eyes. He realized now that it had been a mistake, coming here. Why did he have to play the hero?
There was a gunshot. For a brief moment, Harry wondered why he didn't feel dead, then opened his eyes as he realized he wasn't dead. He looked down to see Eloise's body on the ground below. He looked around and finally saw Blaise, smoking shotgun in his hands.
"Goddamn it, Harry. You trying to get yourself killed?" His features softened as he walked over and picked up Eloise's gun. "Let's go."
Harry nodded, slowly stepping around Eloise. "Right. Er, where's Hermione?"
Blaise led them back. "Waiting room of the clinic. You better hope no one shows up there before we do."
Harry nodded. "I'm sorry."
"Think nothing of it."
22 students remaining
September 2 -- 2:58 p.m.
Things were finally back on track. Harry and Blaise walked into the clinic. Hermione was sitting in one of the chairs, barely awake. Harry sat down next to her, sighing with relief.
"Right," Blaise said. "I'm gonna go check out the back. Make sure it's safe. Oh, and Harry? If you hear any more shootouts, stay here."
Harry nodded. "I won't make the same mistake twice."
Blaise nodded and headed into the back.
Hermione weakly looked to Harry. "What happened?"
He turned to her. "A shootout between Vicky Frobisher and Eloise Midgen. I tried to stop them, and nearly got killed. Blaise saved me."
"Oh."
They sat there in silence until Blaise returned.
"Well, looks like no one's hiding back there," he said. "But I guess we know where Goyle and Malfoy died."
Harry turned to him. "What?"
Blaise pointed behind him into the back. "They look pretty messed up. You might not want to look if you can avoid it, but they're kinda sprawled across the hall, so it might be hard."
Harry nodded and stood up. Reaching a hand out, he helped Hermione get up as well. She wavered, but he was able to catch her in his arms before she fell. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he helped her walk towards the door that led to the back.
As soon as Harry stepped into the back hall, he could see exactly what Blaise had meant. He turned Hermione around so she couldn't see the corpses of Goyle and Malfoy. "Oh, god..."
Blaise nodded. "Careful, now. There's a room back here. She needs a shot of antibiotics. You want to do it?"
Harry shook his head. "I hate needles."
Blaise chuckled as he pushed open a door. "Noticed that earlier."
They walked into the room, and Harry sat Hermione down onto the bed there in the room. He wondered why there was a bed, but figured that since this was the only medical clinic on the island, some of the rooms must have beds for overnight stays or something. Blaise took a small bottle out of the cabinet, and after reading the instructions, took out a syringe as well.
"Any allergies?" he asked as he grabbed some cotton swabs and disinfectant.
Hermione shook her head weakly. "No."
Blaise nodded and poured some disinfectant on the cotton swab. "Good. Harry, roll up her sleeves and hold out her arm, palm up."
Harry nodded as he obeyed. "Have you ever done this before?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow as he swabbed Hermione's arm with disinfectant. "I told you. I used to help my uncle out at his practice. Even though he administered the shots, I've seen him do it enough times to know how to do it." He walked back to the counter, and stuck the syringe into the bottle of antibiotics. "Hold her steady now." He compressed the needle slightly to get the air bubbles out.
He walked over to Hermione and injected the syringe. She winced a little at getting a shot, but didn't complain. Finished, he removed the syringe and wiped her arm with the cotton. "If I had a lollypop, I'd give you one, but I don't, so sorry." He walked back to the cupboard and threw the used syringe in the wastebasket. He grabbed a box of adhesive bandages and walked back. "I do have race car bandages, though."
Hermione smiled weakly as he bandaged her up. Harry let go of her arm.
Blaise stretched. "Let's let her sleep for now. I'm going out for a smoke. Oh!" He put Eloise's gun down on the stand by the bed. "You shouldn't need it, but just in case."
Hermione nodded as she curled up on the bed.
The boys walked out of the room.
"Why go outside? Can't you smoke in here?" Harry asked.
Blaise shrugged. "Unsanitary. And I hate smoking indoors. Gives me a headache. Your hand still bugging you?"
"A little."
Blaise nodded as he walked back into the waiting room. "I'll get you some real painkillers when I come back in." He waved. "Ten minutes. Look around if you want, but don't take anything unless I say it's okay." He walked outside.
Harry walked back into the back. He thought about going back to check on Hermione, but decided to just let her rest. And the whiskey he had drunk earlier was starting to get to him, so he went off in search of a bathroom.
True to his word, Blaise returned ten minutes later. Walking down the back hall to check on his patient, he stopped as he saw Harry standing in the bathroom, holding a black piece of cloth in his hands. "What you got?" he asked.
Harry turned around to face Blaise. "Ron. He was here. These are his robes." He pointed to the red prefect badge pinned to the robes.
22 students remaining