Many thanks to the readers who took the time to review the prologue!

In response to "The Whisperer": this is an interactive fic, so hopefully the input of several brains will help avoid monotony and repetitiveness. You'll notice the authors of the different chapters are not the same people. That said, we're open to criticism & discussion (but we'd rather do that at our website!)

Incidentally, for a list of all Hogwarts students participating in the game & for information, on how to submit challenges or join in with the writing, please refer to the website linked from our profile…

Anne

xxx

Title: Harry Potter Battle Royale: Chapter 1, part 1
Author:
Pernod Gilmore
Rating: R

Summary: Pitched against each other, and fighting for their lives, how will the students of Hogwarts respond?
Chapter summary: Response to the character challenge: Taking up where the prologue left off, the students receive their survival packs and the game begins. The last student observes all this with trepidation until his/her turn finally comes and he/she is also set loose into the Forbidden Forest.

Characters to eliminate: all 3rd year Hufflepuffs!

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.

Chapter 1, part 1: The Die Is Cast

Day One: 11am
Deceased: Hermione Granger
Students Remaining: 61

The silence that greeted Voldemort's words was so intense that Draco could have heard a pin drop. He glanced around the hall, surreptitiously assessing the backlash. Teachers and students alike wore identical expressions of shock and disbelief.

The pause stretched on and on. Each passing second strained the tension still further, until it was almost unbearable. Anticipating the inevitable break was agonising, like the nervous wait before an exam when questions such as "Have I revised the right things?" revolve in your head.

But this isn't like any test I've ever sat before, thought Draco.

A twisted perversion of the accolade he usually so eagerly sought – being the best, the brightest – lay in wait for him outside the hall.

My prize comes at a high price. The stakes are rising every minute.

"No!"

That was it. A veritable storm of panic and confusion broke out over the hall. Draco couldn't tell who had snapped first. The initial cry was lost in the roar of voices that released everyone from their stupor. Seats were overturned, tempers flared. Wherever he looked, students were grappling either with each other or with the Aurors in an effort to get at the Death Eaters. But, bereft of their wands, there was nothing anyone could effectively do against the Ministry officials. Instead they had to scream their helpless rage at the teachers.

"You can't!"

"It's an outrage!"

"Professor, do something!"

McGonagall was on her feet. Draco noticed her hands were balled in fists at her sides. Her voice trembled slightly. But she spoke with grim determination, shouting over the commotion.

"Quiet! There will be order please."

It won't do any good. Standing up to The Dark Lord will get you as far as it got Granger.

Draco didn't feel even a slight pang of grief at the thought that one of his classmates had just died. A tiny smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, which he quickly suppressed. He had a healthy enough respect for both The Dark Lord and his father to keep up his habitual expression: an impassive mask. It maintained the dignity of the Malfoy name. Lucius was always very clear about that!

Draco had been warned of Hogwarts' impending fate before the school year had begun. On a hot Sunday afternoon in the last week of August, Lucius had summoned his only son into the study. He didn't beat around the bush.

"This is your time, Draco. The Dark Lord will be watching you very closely. Everything you have been taught has led you to this point. Now you can prove yourself worthy of the honour. Glory is within your grasp. Do not fail."

That was it. Three simple words.

Do. Not. Fail.

He remembered the intense feeling of nausea that washed over him. He had left the room with bile rising in his throat. Please no, he had silently, uselessly begged. I'm not ready.

The choice was laid out clearly before him. To seize this chance and become a Death Eater as was expected, or to… to what?

There was no choice.

Not really.

It was another clever illusion of his father's making.

Do. Not. Fail.

He turned his attention back to the hall. At least it allowed me time to be more prepared for this than McGonagall, Draco reflected. It appeared that she was about to lose her legendary self-possession.

"I cannot possibly allow this. Nor can I believe the Ministry agreed to it. Cornelius!"

Her eyes darted to Fudge, who sat with his head in his hands at the Hufflepuff table.

A note of desperation crept into her voice. "Cornelius!"

No answer.

Draco's eyes moved from the carnage of the main hall to the teacher's table. He scrutinised the rest of the staff, taking in their reactions. The headmistress' expression was hard to read. She sat very straight in her chair at the centre of the table, looking thoughtfully at the defeated Fudge. Now and then her toad-like eyes flitted to Voldemort and she licked her lips nervously. That oaf, Hagrid, had knocked over everything within reach. Flitwick stood on his cushioned chair as still as a statue, complete with a marble-like blankness on his face. Trelawney grasped Professor Sprout's arm, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. At the far right end of the table sat Snape, the newly appointed DADA teacher.

Privately, Draco almost sympathised with his godfather. What a bitch! To get the promotion you'd been wanting for years only to have all your students plunged into a game of wits that would leave only one alive. But then again, Draco thought distractedly, it's going to be me he's left with. That'll be good.

Snape was sitting so far forward in his chair that he perched on the edge of his seat. His hands were pressed flat on the table in front of him and his eyes were fixed on The Dark Lord. The masked figure Draco identified as his father leaned over and spoke to Snape in a low murmur. Draco was too far away to hear what was being said but he saw Snape's eyes glittering dangerously, a sneer settling on his lips.

What's that? Will he help me, I wonder?

A sudden movement at the Hufflepuff table drew Draco's eye back to the main action. Fudge was jerking his head from side to side. His face was still hidden. He was mumbling something about, "No choice, Minerva…how can we resist him? No choice…can't be helped."

The Dark Lord, evidently deciding his victims had had sufficient time to get over their hysteria, spoke again. "Enough of this! Lord Voldemort's patience wears thin."

A Death Eater advanced on McGonagall. She backed into her seat, mute frustration written all over her face.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Pointing his wand at the Hufflepuff table, Voldemort levitated it steadily over the heads of the students and moved it to the right-hand side of the hall. It hovered there for a second before staring to fall. The Gryffindors who had remained seated cried out in alarm and hastily scrambled out of their benches. Voldemort turned and did the same to the Ravenclaw table, setting it down aside the Slytherin table. Draco unfurled himself from the bench with somewhat more elegance and composure than his housemates. Now was so not the time to lose his cool.

He stood to one side of the student's grouped in the middle of the cleared hall. The younger ones amongst them were sobbing raggedly, some barely able to stand. The older ones tried to comfort them but many were also too badly shaken to offer any solace. A few remained sullen and defiant, he noticed, like Potter and the Weasley twins. Typical Gryffindor heroics. The Death Eaters fanned out in a circle around the edges of the hall, pointing their wands threateningly at the pupils. The Aurors guarded the teachers with somewhat less enthusiasm.

There was no-where to run.

Voldemort turned his back on the chaotic crowd. As he spun around, the students at the front of the group drew back. None were eager for even his cloak to brush against them in passing. From his position, Draco couldn't see what The Dark Lord was doing. His voluminous robes concealed his actions.

After a minute and muttered word, Voldemort turned around. A small granite column with a black stone orb atop had appeared. Obsidian, Draco barely had time to think before Voldemort was talking again.

"When you hear your name, step forward immediately. You will collect your pack and be fitted with a collar. The orb is a port-key. It will take you, one at a time, to the Forbidden Forest."

The masked figure of Lucius Malfoy stepped forward again. Unrolling the top part of a large scroll, he began calling out names.

"Adrian Pucey."

A 7th year Slytherin boy stepped forward.

Show them how it's done. Draco scoffed.

Pucey looked pale. His skin had a green tinge and his lips were pressed in a hard line. He kept his eyes pointed at the floor. Voldemort looked at him with distant interest. Another masked figure hurried forward, fixed a Devil's Snare collar loosely around his neck and pointed his wand at it.

"Reducio."

The collar snapped to a tight fit around Pucey's throat. He choked a little and instinctively clutched at it. After a moment of fright, Draco saw the tension in his shoulders relax when he realised he wasn't going to die. Voldemort smiled coldly. The minion threw a backpack at the startled boy and pointed at the orb. Pucey swallowed audibly and reached forward with a single trembling hand. Then he was gone.

The other students released a collective breath, perversely relieved that it had happened as they had been told.

"Graham Pritchard."

A young Gryffindor hugged his friends, whispering small comforts, and stepped forward.

From then on in they went rapidly down the list. The students went forward in turn, got collared, received their packs and disappeared. What could they do? Some cried, some raged, some were silent. Those lucky few with presence of mind made arrangements to meet on the outside. Steadily the group dwindled.

"Ron Weasley."

Draco looked around with half an interest. He had forgotten the Weasel's existence in all the uproar. Ron was still on the floor, cradling Hermione's body in his arms. His eyes were red, but dry now. His anger was settling into cold hatred. You could see the emotion plain on his face.

That won't help you, Draco shook his head. Weak. Wearing your heart on your sleeve. Tisk-tisk Weasel.

Harry heaved Ron to his feet. He whispered something in the redhead's ear. Ron shot a glare at his best friend before wrenching his arm away and stalking up to the top of the room. He endured the collar without flinching and snatched his pack from the Death Eater. Then he whirled around and clapped his hand on the orb, all the while avoiding Voldemort's glance.

"Harry Potter."

Potter had somehow found the time to summon a carefully blank expression, Draco noted. There was, however, more than a hint of anger and grief below the surface. He wasn't a good enough liar to conceal it.

Harry followed the same route as everyone else. Collar, bag, orb. He walked stiffly, as though being that close to Voldemort caused him pain. As he reached for the port-key, however, he looked up and met The Dark Lord's gaze.

He's going to do something stupid! Draco leaned forward in anticipation.

"It's a bit cowardly, isn't it? Even for you. You used to be able to kill defenceless children all by yourself. Now you force us to kill each other. Not up to the job anymore?"

Voldemort stepped closer to the insolent boy. He grabbed a handful of Harry's hair and ran a finger slowly, almost possessively, down one cheek. Harry flinched at the caress. A slight groan escaped his blue-tinted lips.

"On the contrary, Potter. I have great plans for the winner of this game. But first, they must prove themselves worthy of my attention."

He let go. "Will it be you?"

With a flat denial Harry shook himself and turned to the orb. "I will never play your game, Voldemort."

"Oh, I think you'll find that you will, Potter." Voldemort mocked softly, addressing the empty space where his enemy had stood a moment before.

Lucius' voice rang out again.

"Luna Lovegood."

The remaining students were called until, finally, only Draco was left.

"Draco Malfoy."

He stepped forward, confident at the sound of his father's voice, to receive his collar and pack.

"Ah, young Malfoy."

Voldemort tilted Draco's chin up to study his face. "Your father is among my most trusted Death Eaters. Should I expect a great performance from you?"

Repressing the shudder that thrilled his body at The Dark Lord's touch, Draco forced an answer past his dry tongue. "Yes, my lord."

"We shall see."

Draco blinked. Is that all? Should I wait? After a heavy pause he come to his senses and bowed. He nodded at his father. Then he turned and placed his hand on the orb…

To be continued in Part 2…