Harry Potter and the Battle Royale Initiative
Fast Forward – Thirty Minutes In
Harry left the sweeping lights behind him, walking quickly straight into the dark, one hand tight around his rucksack, the other awkwardly at his side. He didn't register that as soon as he left the hot metal corridor, he would be engulfed by darkness for the next few hours. The most vital hours of his life.
For a strange reason, Harry's mind went to the cameras. Where are they? He pondered, keeping his eyes on the stretch of rolling field around him. I wonder if they're watching me, right now? He was almost sure that Dudley Dursley could be found, safe in the front room at Number Four Privet Drive right now, his mouth agape at the events unfolding before him.
The ground was dry, cobbled unevenly and it hurt his feet to walk on, but he knew he had to use the head start to his advantage. He was, after all, one of the first students to leave the confines of that awful room – the image of his friend tugging at his sweatshirt moments before the impact burned into his memory – and he had to make sure he took advantage of it. He wasn't sure how long he had before the next wave of students left, but he knew already his life was in danger. The look on Zabini's and Zacharias's faces as they departed at the centre told him everything he needed to know.
He wasn't safe.
He quickly thought of Ron and Ginny, holding each other tightly, and of Hermione and Neville, who had looked at him helplessly as he was shunned out of the room by a man they all thought incapable of such acts. The blank stare in Luna's eyes, despair washing over her. For all they knew, Harry was never coming back. For all he knew, they would never meet again.
For a minute, Harry walked in a straight line, until he could see the leftmost and rightmost exits leading out of the massive complex. From one exit, he saw the Ravenclaw boy, Stephen, looking at him. The boy was frozen. For a second Harry urged his left leg toward him, but the boy bolted out of sight. Harry turned slowly to the other side, and saw no sign of Zacharias Smith. Perhaps he got lucky. Harry adjusted his glasses as they slipped on his sweaty nose, quickening his pace so he could reach the large hill in the distance. Vantage was key. If he could use his common sense, and from what he had seen in Ron's computer games, he might get out alive.
If only I had magic powers, he surmised. Maybe I could just zap myself out of here. If only.
From his vantage point, Harry could see clearly the gates that he and presumably, Zacharias had exited from. Only a few seconds passed, when a small, dainty figure emerged from the very same square of light he too had left. Katie Bell, struggling with her rucksack. Part of him wanted to call out to her, but the call never came and Katie ran quicker than she ever had on the football pitch, slipping into a wall of hills and out of sight.
"They're coming out quickly," Harry whispered to himself. "Maybe they'll be next." Five minutes passed, and nobody else came, although Harry could hear faint shouts and even some sobs in the distance. Still, his exit remained empty. "Come on." He figured that by talking to himself he could calm his nerves. It wasn't working. Harry's stomach churned.
Then, the screams rang out through the quiet sky.
It came from the Hufflepuff exit.
Harry winced at the sound, but rooted himself to the spot. He stayed there for an extra minute, his eyes closed as the screams dimmed down. Then, he realized something quickly. What if that was Hermione? Or, God forbid, Ginny? Harry mentally kicked himself for assuming it wouldn't be a Gryffindor, and before he knew it he was practically throwing himself towards the exit. For that minute, he didn't care being caught by an unpleasant classmate.
He tripped over the body, nestled in the foot of a tree. His rucksack flew out of his control and landed several feet away. "Shit shit shit," he muttered, running over to grab it. He fumbled with the strap for several seconds before getting the grip, and looked over at the girl.
Not Ginny.
Not Hermione.
Not Luna.
Judging by the yellow band on her sweatshirt, she was a Hufflepuff.
That was enough for Harry. Realising the foolish position he had put himself in, he bumped the bag fully on his shoulders when he saw four figures in the powerful light, the next group forced to emerge into the light. He scarpered back to the hill, not looking back, despite the inaudible yells in the distance. Halfway up the hill, he heard a rustling from behind the tree. Without hesitation, he spun around on his heels immediately, down the hill and directly into the darkness beyond.
Run.
Run.
Harry Potter was alone. And only sixty-one students stood between him and survival.