Chapter 7: Training Scores

On the second day of training, Harry decided it was time to start trying out some of the battle stations. He might still be unsure about his ability to kill in the arena, but he needed to at least be comfortable with weapons if he meant to survive others trying to kill him. The four Careers were busy at the archery station, so Harry decided to take his chance to use the knife-throwing station while they were elsewhere.

"Ever thrown a knife before?" the boy from district 4 asked when Harry stepped up.

"No," Harry replied, looking over his choice of knife before realizing that since he'd never thrown one, it didn't really matter which one he chose. "You?" he asked.

"Yeah, I've practiced a bit with the knives we use back home to gut fish," the boy replied. He stepped up to one of the throwing stations and threw a knife. It hit the practice dummy in the leg. He hissed.

"That wasn't bad," Harry said jealously. He would probably miss the target altogether.

"Well it's not good," the boy replied. "All that's going to do is anger him. I've barely even slowed him down."

"I guess that's what the practice is for," Harry said, stepping up to his own station and taking aim. "You're still miles ahead of me." He threw the knife, and as expected, missed the target by a large margin.

"I guess so," the boy said. "Here, let me help you." The boy from district 4 stepped up behind Harry and helped him to hold the knife properly in his hand. "There, now at least the knife will travel straight instead of flying all over the place like the last one."

Harry nodded. "Here goes nothing," he said, letting the knife fly. It struck the target in the foot.

"Not bad," the boy applauded him, "looks like we both need to work on our aim though."

"I'm Harry," Harry said, holding his hand out.

"Sirius," the other boy replied, grasping it in his own for a moment before letting it fall. Without another word, the boys went back to throwing knives.

At lunch, Harry sat with Sirius and the girl from his district, Marlene. He noticed Fred loitering near the door, so he beckoned him over to join. Fred and Sirius got along great and as they got acquainted, Harry took a chance to glance around at the groups that were forming. Lavender was with the tributes from district 11 again, but now they were joined by the girl from district 6. To Harry's surprise, the boy from district 5 seemed to have been accepted into the Career pack. He'd pulled a fifth chair up from another table and sat at the corner of the table.

After lunch, Sirius took Fred to the knife throwing station and Harry decided to move on. He decided to check out the fire-starting station, as he had yet to learn to build a fire. Nobody else was at the station, which was nice, because it gave Harry a chance to concentrate and be with his thoughts. After listening to the instructor at the station explain the various ways to start a fire, he found a nice isolated spot to practice building his fire.

After about ten minutes, when Harry still hadn't managed to get his fire to catch, he suddenly got the distinct impression that he was being watched. He spun around just in time to see two small figures dart behind a pillar. Curious as to who was spying on him, Harry got up and rounded the pillar to find himself face to face with the district 10 tributes, who were probably the youngest tributes there.

"Why are you spying on me?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes. At this point, it was safest to be suspicious of everybody.

"We weren't spying," the boy said, his eyes wide. "We were just watching you."

"Why?" Harry repeated.

"You just seem like the friendliest person here," the girl answered shyly. "Everyone else is so mean and tough."

Harry considered the two for a moment. It wasn't like they were Careers, trying to find his weakness. From what Harry had gathered, they weren't even going to be much competition. They certainly weren't a threat.

"Come on, you want to try building a fire with me?" he asked, gesturing to his abandoned pile of wood. "I can't seem to light it."

At his words, smiles lit up both of their faces and they rushed over to the fire to try for themselves. Harry couldn't help but smile himself when he saw how happy they were just to be included in this with him. He felt bad, knowing that they would probably be dead in a couple days, but that was their reality. Harry knew the district 10 tributes really had no chance of winning, and after talking with them for a while, Harry realized that they knew it too.

"I heard you're teaming up with Dobby and Hedwig," Lavender said in the elevator when training was over for the day.

"Who?" Harry asked, drawing a blank.

"District 10," Lavender clarified. "You know, the ones you were building fires with all afternoon."

"Oh," Harry replied. "I'm not teaming up with them; I just thought it would be nice to have some company building fires."

"Well good luck finding any other allies now," Lavender scoffed. "Because all anyone can talk about now is how you're sure to lose with those two watching your back."

"Whatever," Harry muttered, not in the mood to talk to Lavender. Ever since training had started, Lavender had begun acting as though she was superior to Harry, even though they were both in the exact same situation. It wasn't like Lavender had any hidden talents that nobody knew about – Harry knew her before the reaping, and she had always been frivolous and vain.

They arrived in their seventh-floor apartment to find McGonagall and Hagrid waiting by the elevator. Their mentors escorted them to the living room area and instructed them to sit down.

"Tomorrow," McGonagall said, "will be your individual sessions with the Gamemakers. After lunch, you'll go in one at a time and you'll show the Gamemakers your best skills, and they'll rate you on a scale of one to twelve."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Lavender said in a bored voice. "One's the worst; twelve's the best, try to get a twelve."

"Ms. Brown, I will not be spoken to in that tone!" McGonagall snapped. "And anyway, you're wrong. Getting a twelve will only put a huge target on your head; you'll be dead before the bloodbath is over. What you're aiming for is a nine – high enough that you'll still attract sponsors, but not high enough to be first on the Career's hit list. Ideally you should stay within the range of seven to ten, any higher or lower, and you're dead."

"How am I supposed to get a nine when all I can do is tie my shoes?" Harry asked.

"That," McGonagall said as she stood up, "is for you to figure out."

The next day, Harry still had no idea what he was going to do. He descended to the training room with Lavender and tried out a few of the stations he hadn't been to yet. He tried his luck with a broadsword, but discovered that it was much too heavy for his skinny arms. He briefly visited the archery station, but he couldn't get the arrow to cooperate with the bow, so he gave up with that. As the morning was drawing to a close, he found himself back at the knife-throwing station. Though he didn't have great aim, it was still his best skill, so he figured that would have to be what he showed the Gamemakers.

Lunch was a tense atmosphere. News seemed to have travelled fast that Harry was allies with Dobby and Hedwig from ten, because everybody avoided Harry's table. When the district 10 tributes came in, they sat at Harry's table and the fourth chair was taken by the boy from district 5 as he joined the Career table.

All too soon, a woman's voice started to call names, beginning with district 1 and working her way through the rest of the districts. When Lavender was called, Harry stiffened, knowing he was next.

"Harry Potter, district 7," the voice said fifteen minutes later. Mechanically, Harry rose from his seat and walked towards the door, Dobby and Hedwig cheering him on in the background. He entered the empty training center and stepped up to the knife throwing station. The Gamemakers were all up in a gallery, half of them watching him and the other half whispering amongst themselves. Unsure what the protocol was, Harry decided to just start throwing knives.

The first knife hit the target's foot. A couple of the Gamemakers chuckled and Harry berated himself. He was going to get a one, he just knew it. Nobody could be as bad as he was. He threw the second knife and it missed altogether. Noise from the gallery rose as the Gamemakers lost interest in Harry. Scolding himself, Harry picked up a third knife and this time it hit the knee – better, but still not good. The fourth knife landed right on the target's heart.

Harry gaped at the target for a moment, shocked at what he'd accomplished. He'd never hit anywhere near the heart before, and now he'd hit it dead on. He looked up at the gallery to find a couple of the Gamemakers giving him impressed glances.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, you may go," one of the Gamemakers told him when he didn't move to throw another knife. It couldn't've been longer than five minutes that he'd been in there, and Harry panicked that he hadn't shown them enough. But they'd already dismissed him, so he obediently left the room, returning to the seventh floor.

After dinner, everyone on level seven clustered around the television to see the scores. Even the stylists had emerged from their isolation, where they were creating Harry and Lavender's interview outfits, to watch. The music came on and after some opening remarks by the announcer, Lee Jordan, the scores began.

As usual, the tributes from districts one and two got high scores; tens and elevens. The tributes from district three got a four and a six. Sirius succeeded in getting McGonagall's magic number; a nine. The boy from district five that joined the Career pack got a seven, and Harry wondered whether they would keep him despite his low score. Once Fred had been awarded his eight, everyone held their breath, knowing district 7 was up next. Lavender's face flashed on the screen and then her score was announced; a five.

Harry didn't dare say anything, because such a low score could only mean disaster for Lavender. As his face appeared on the screen he found himself unable to move as he waited to see what his fate would be. It seemed to take forever for Lee to say his score, but then there it was, flashing on the screen; a seven.

It was just enough to remain within McGonagall's preferred range, but still lower than would be ideal. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and relaxed into his seat, knowing that it could have gone much worse. As soon as the screen had gone dark once again, Lavender stood and silently walked away, going in the direction of the rooms.