Prologue:
the Battle begins...
Title: Harry
Potter Battle Royale: Prologue
Authors: Anne Phoenix and Pernod
Gilmore
Rating: R
Summary: Pitched against each other, and fighting for their lives, how will the students of Hogwarts respond?
Chapter
summary: The students learn of their fate...
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Prologue
Since Dumbledore's peaceful death one month earlier, the Ministry had slowly, but surely, taken over the running of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dolores Umbridge had been immediately reappointed as Headmistress, and there was nothing Professor McGonagall could say or do to convince Fudge of the foolishness of this decision. On the contrary, the Minister had made it quite clear that the next member of staff to complain about Umbridge would be sacked without stay.
The students suffered for it. In four weeks, Potter had already served a dozen detentions. Tight bandages usually hid the damage those detentions had inflicted on his right hand, but sometimes, after a particularly long night, the blood seeped through the white linen, leaving a spotted, mocking trace of the words etched into the flesh below.
On Tuesday morning, as Minerva made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, she was surprised to meet groups of Aurors in the Entrance Hall. They were holding their wands as though poised for battle, and the first inkling of dark foreboding overcame her.
"What are you doing here?" Minerva demanded sharply of a young man she vaguely recognised as having been in Ravenclaw.
He jumped and blushed, before straightening himself. "Ministry orders, Professor. No student or member of staff is to leave the school."
Minerva's stomach gave a little flip. She hurried on towards the Great Hall, and was only moderately surprised to find its entrance guarded by senior Aurors. Several of them greeted her as she passed, but she had no time for them, for she had already noticed Minister Fudge strutting pompously along the front of the head table. She stormed up to him.
"What is the meaning of this, Cornelius?"
Fudge looked momentarily taken aback, then he puffed out his chest. "You will not stand in my way, Minerva! Please take your seat."
An Auror had already stepped forward to assist the Minister, but he was not needed. Minerva sidestepped Fudge and sat down in her usual place. She focused on the arriving students. The younger ones looked confused and scared; the older ones apprehensive and angry, as though they too suspected the worst. Minerva watched as Miss Granger stopped Potter from confronting an Auror, and dragged him to his seat.
But if anyone had known the truth, they would have taken their chances against the Aurors and stormed out of the castle in panic.
Once it looked like all of the students had arrived, Fudge used a spell to count them, and then ordered the great doors to be closed. He cleared his throat.
"Professors and students of Hogwarts! These are dark days, and difficult decisions have had to be made.
"Three days ago, it came to our attention that a weapon has been developed. A weapon so great that it can annihilate all magical existence in the blink of an eye!"
He paused for effect. Minerva realised her hands were shaking a little, mirroring the fear evident in the eyes of the students. She tried to reassure them, but found she could not muster even the weakest smile.
"We have negotiated with the creator of this weapon, and have struck a… satisfactory agreement."
Fudge was looking nervous now; his eyes flitted towards the closed doors. "I… uhm… am stepping down from my position as Minister for Magic. To… ah… uhm… Well, we were hardly in a position to negotiate. He has the power to destroy everything! So… ah. It makes perfect sense to admit defeat graciously, and so I would like to… errrrr… welcome – You-Know-Who!"
Perfectly on cue, the doors swung open, allowing a mass of black-cloaked, white-masked figures to swarm into the Great Hall. At their centre, unmistakably, was Lord Voldemort. Minerva flinched at the sight, her entire being overwhelmed with horror. She vaguely noticed Fudge backing away from the advancing group and sinking into a chair at the end of the Hufflepuff table. The terrified screams of the students filled the air; Potter collapsed on his empty plate, clutching his head with both hands.
Voldemort's nostrils flared as he made his way to the front of the room, as though savouring the fear pervasive in the crowd. He reached the head table, where the teaching staff sat frozen with shock. His Death Eaters spread out around the room, joining the Aurors in their guard.
The Dark Lord wasted no time.
"I hold all of your lives in my hand," he announced triumphantly, holding out his hand for all to see, and curling long white fingers into a fist. "I can crush all magical existence. But what glory is there is reigning over ruins? None. Lord Voldemort has made a most generous offer to the Ministry. They will not fight my supreme rule. They understand the consequences of resistance. In exchange, I will be a lenient leader."
Minerva fought not to cry. Many of the students, abandoning all pretence of bravery, sobbed in each other's arms, and emotionally, she was quite ready to join them. But until they all knew what Voldemort wanted, she knew she had to stay strong. She turned her attention back to the Dark Lord, for he was talking again.
"I do not believe mere children can understand politics. You, who have been brought up to hate me, to fight me, I fear you will not obey me. I do not trust children. Therefore I cannot allow this generation to grow up. Expelliarmus Maximus!"
Minerva cried out as several hundred wands escaped their owners, and flew into a neat pile at Voldemort's feet. She closed her eyes so as not to see the stricken faces of her beloved students; but that could not block out the panicked screams.
Voldemort laughed coldly, bringing the room back to order. "Lord Voldemort is generous. Death is easy; it is swift and merciful. But the most worthy of you shall not be sacrificed with the others. Let us make it a game. In a moment, I will tell you my rules, but first…"
He broke off and headed towards the Gryffindor table, where Potter half-lay on the table, his shallow pants interspersed with small whimpers.
Miss Granger immediately drew herself up, her face set in grim determination. "Leave him alone!" she pleaded, her voice trembling.
Minerva could not see Voldemort's expression, but Miss Granger shrank back in fear. On the other side of the table, Mr Weasley looked deathly pale. Potter lifted his head; his lips moved, but Minerva couldn't make out the words. Voldemort, however, broke into peals of high-pitched laughter. He grabbed Potter by the hair and dragged him forcefully away from the table. A titter of delighted anticipation ran through the Death Eaters. Minerva wanted to throw up.
Potter hit the floor, but hastily scrabbled to his feet. His face was screwed up in pain from his scar, but his expression was still defiant.
"You and I, Harry, have a yet more personal score to settle," Voldemort hissed.
Potter answered with a snarl, unexpectedly throwing himself onto Voldemort, and wrestling for his wand. Judging by the expression on the other professors' faces, they felt as weak as Minerva. No one dared move – no professor, no student, no Death Eater, no Auror… Everyone watched with morbid fascination as Voldemort easily threw Potter off him and pointed his wand at the boy's heart.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Minerva closed her eyes. She couldn't watch this. For all his faults, she was so very fond of Potter. She heard the weighty thud of a body hitting the ground, and could not stop the tears from leaking out beneath her eyelids. For a moment there was silence, and then all hell broke loose.
She knew she had to look. It was her duty. She should have done more than sit there; should have jumped up and died in his place. Given another opportunity, she would do so in a heartbeat… but it all seemed so terribly unreal.
Where she expected to find the lifeless corpse of Harry Potter, there was no one. Potter was back at the Gryffindor table, cradling Hermione's body, tears streaming down his face. All around the hall, students were crying. Voldemort looked absolutely delighted.
"A score can be settled in many ways, Harry. I would not deny you your chance in my game."
Harry looked up, a savage scowl twisting his features. This time, his voice rang out through the hall, loud and clear. "Then you deny yourself your victory," Harry spat, "because I am going to kill you."
An amused laugh escaped Voldemort's thin lips. "You are so confident, and yet you have no idea of the cost. Let us talk about my game."
Minerva's heart gave a little flutter as those unforgiving red eyes briefly met hers, then the Dark Lord swirled around to face the entire hall. A few students were still hiding their faces in their hands, or on the shoulders of their neighbours, but most of them now looked up at him with wide eyes.
Voldemort wasted no time.
"The game is very simple. Even the Mudbloods among you should be able to remember the rules. Those Mudbloods that are still alive, in any case."
He punctuated his words with an obvious glance towards Miss Granger. Potter and Weasley both tensed, and looked ready to spring, but the other Gryffindors held them back. Minerva muttered silent thanks. She wasn't sure her heart could stand another confrontation like before.
"The aim of the game is simple: you are to fight for your lives. Kill or be killed. There is no room for mercy or friendship."
Voldemort turned slightly to a cloaked figure on his far right. An aristocratic drawl sounded from behind the white mask.
"Listen well to these rules, for I will not be repeating myself."
Never mind another confrontation, Minerva didn't think she could survive another word. The silence in the hall was deadly; even Potter and Weasley had dried their tears and were attentive to the speaker. Lucius Malfoy, a voice in her mind supplied.
"We have warded a large area within the Forbidden Forest. You will all be released one by one into this playing field, but only one of you will return. You will fight to to the death. If you band together, help each other, or decide not to play at all, you will all die. We will be tracking your movements with charmed Devil's Snare around your necks. Any attempt to remove this will result in instant suffocation. You cannot stay in one place for longer than 8 hours, or you will be killed. After all, we can hardly let you ruin the game for the others by hiding."
The figure turned back to Voldemort, who seemed to be surveying the students carefully. The Slytherins looked especially scared, as though they had expected to be exempt from the Dark Lord's madness.
Voldemort continued where his Death Eater had finished. "Lord Voldemort is not heartless. To give you all a fair chance, you will each receive a bag containing items that may, or may not, be useful to you – weapons, food, water. I hardly need tell you that you may keep any trophies you recover from a kill."
The students shared horrified looks. They did not dare say anything. Up at the staff table, Minerva too, exchanged horrified glances with the other members of staff. But there was nothing they could do to stop this massacre.
Lord Voldemort raised his hands one final time. His voice rang clear and triumphant. "Let the game begin…"
TBC
