Harry Potter Hunger Games

Feast

Day 10

Marietta knew every tribute in the arena would be headed for the cornucopia. She had to be smart.

Her shoulder was still aching, infectious bruises bubbling around the area. She readied herself with a knife in her good hand and tucked her hair into her beenie as she raced towards the golden conch horn. As she bolted, a flash of brown caught her eye. Dean Thomas was also trying to achieve the item.

The clash sent them both flying. Dean was quicker to rise, skirting away from Marietta as she brandished her dagger in her good arm. She picked herself up hastily and pursued Dean. He was faster, diving towards the silk sack atop a table. He missed however, because a ghostly pale hand shot out and swiped the bag from underneath him.

The two tributes spun to see Pansy Parkinson racing with impossible speed away from the cornucopia, silk bag in hand.

A girl who'd once looked like royalty was nothing more than a ghost now- a dying figure that moved with the shadows and resented the light. Pansy had been prey for the passed days, and it had taken a number on her. But despite this, the years of carefully honed training was searing into her DNA. She moved like the night, almost gone completely when...

Pansy was almost out of sight when an arrow pronounced itself in her throat. She gasp in shock, clutching her neck as every member of the audience reeled back home. No one had expected this.

Another weapon sailed though the air to meet her, and every eager capitol member sat on the edge of their seats to watch the twist unravel. The District members watching from home made a point to grimace or cover their eyes while secretly staring on in bitter intrigue.

As Pansy stood there chocking on her own blood, another figure bolted into the camera's view. Draco Malfoy presented himself with a sneer that didn't fully reach his eyes, and slid into the battlefield to steal the prize.

But Marietta took her chance first. She darted towards the bag frantically, a sharp golden knife grazing her cheek as she ducked.

Neville notched another arrow, heart thumping crazily, as he sank further into the branch he clung to.

"Fools! You dare pick a fight with me?!" It was a warning, laced with regret.

Marietta rolled and snatched up the silk bag, not having time to admire the soft, beautiful patterns.

"Stop!" Dean raced towards her recklessly, feeling the prize slipping out of his grasp with every leap. She whipped her head back, glaring, and missed the foot ahead. She kissed the beginning of the forest, releasing the item, as the other tributes bounded over her, not bothering to finish her off. It was a tragic mistake, as she sent a vengeful knife chasing after a girl's platinum blonde ponytail.

At that moment, four tributes came tumbling into the cornucopia. On the western side, they were still far away from the drama, but not far enough that the cameras didnt immediately zoom in to catch their terrified faces. Ludo Bagman was quick to pounce on this dramatic opportunity.

"It looks like our latest disaster has placed all of our tributes together once again. Things are about to heat up."

Ginny tugged a string of her hair nervously, eyes roaming at the wall of fire following them.

"Ron..."

"The gamemakers aren't going to let us out of here unscathed." Hermione answered, a fierce look in her eyes as she tugged her feral curls into a ponytail. The previous timidity Ron noticed was gone now, replaced by a cutthroat determination.

"You all need to go." Ron's brow furrowed as Ginny and Harry raised theirs.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because I'm about to fight for this prize to the death. And I doubt any of you care about it as much as I want it."

It was obvious in her voice; both a warning and a threat. She wasn't going to stop until she had the prize.

Hermione cast a final, weary glance towards them all.

"It was nice while it lasted. Here's to never seeing each other again."

***

Shortly after the cannon boomed and the battle concluded, the arena was quiet. Dean Thomas sat perched by a shallow spring, generously slurping the dirty water as the light dimmed. The cornucopia brawl been brutal. The only reason he hadn't yet blead out was solely due to his sudden rush of sponsors, providing him with weakened painkillers and bandages. He had done well, he supposed, in surviving two encounters with other, more powerful tributes. It didn't matter though. Nothing did. He couldn't picture another encounter where his dodging would save him. His enemies had both defence and weaponry on their side.

Stealing that magical item was his last hope. Now that was as dead as Seamus.

Each night, his heart ached for his friend. He began to see the appeal of not making friends to begin with. Now, try as he might, he couldn't forget him. He wanted to honour his dying wish and win the games, but as days stretched on he realised something; no one ever really won the Hunger Games. Not the luckiest of kids, or the most skilled. It didn't matter if you were a career or a volunteer or a regular reap, no one could ever truly escape the darkness injected into their minds by the arena.

Escape. Now wasn't that an idea.

***

Marietta left the battle with a painful slice across her forehead. It was deep enough that the woollen beanie was allowing a fresh red coat to trickle down her face. She had also gained a graze across her back, and a relentless collection of angry bruises against her caging stomach along with her still searing basilisk bite.

Light was fading into dark, and a bitter scowl haunted Marietta's face as she slashed her way through the overgrown forest. The career had made off with the item. Of course he had. Exactly as the gamemakers intended. Everyone knew Panem favoured the career tributes.

It can't be put into words how badly she had wanted that package. It wasn't just to give her a strategical advantage in the games; her desire most prominently related to the fact that it was magic. And if magic still existed, then revenge was possible.

Marietta didn't care much about the Capitol's rein, or the fact that countless other children were shipped off to the games annually. She cared about herself. She wanted revenge for all the trauma she had faced. Initially, vengeance had seemed impossible. But now it was brought to light that magic was still around. Maybe there was something there to consider.

The night drifted in a thick haze. But little did Marietta, or any of the other potential Victors, know; this would be their last night in the Hunger Games arena.

*The Fallen*

Pansy Parkinson; District 1- 16 years old.
Neville Longbottom; District 9- 16 years old.