The Hogwarts Games (First Draft)

Chapter 19 - Three. Two. One. Fight!

Chapter 19 - Three. Two. One. Fight!

"Your minute starts now."  

A ghastly and brooding voice began to count backwards.  

"Sixty ... fifty-nine ... fifty-eight ..." 

All the tributes around me kept their heads on a swivel, taking in their surroundings. Water. I had to find that first. I began to swivel my head like the rest. Branches began to move in a somewhat stiff manner: a telltale sign of cameras in disguise. We were surrounded by tall towers of brown and green. I turned my head to the back as far as I could. I gasped at the grandeur of the ginormous snakehead cave in front of my eyes. The Hogwarts Cornucopia. Two large fangs hung from the ceiling and two more spiked through the floor as if providing a gateway. I squinted my eyes and looked inside - it was rather difficult since I had to fully turn my head to the back to properly see and there they were! My crescent moon daggers! They weren't the same as the Capitol-manufactured weapons which shone with a brilliance that indicated that they were new. My daggers were worn out, not as well made and they saved my family's life. I swore to get them somehow. I turned to the front again. Past the other tributes' heads were trees, trees and more trees. I needed a water source. Well, I suppose that the trees had to get their water from somewhere and I knew that I could take the water out of the soil with a spell but I knew better than to waste my magic. Georgia Flint fidgeted beside me. It wasn't hard to see that she was feeling stiff with all the stress and nervousness. She lifted her leg to stretch it but a sudden, frightful roar pinned her feet to the ground. The panel beneath glowed again and I felt a shift in weight in my right hand. My wand!  

"Twenty-four ... twenty-three ... twenty-two ..."  

The anticipation was stressful for some of the tributes. It wasn't hard to see their desire to eliminate the rest of us. Some tributes shrank into their panels. It was clear that they didn't want to leave or to fight.  

"Seven ... six ... " the voice was almost finished. I counted with it.  

"Four ... three ... two ... one." I released a breath that I didn't know I was holding back. A gong was hit and my legs leapt off of the panel. As soon as I was off, I sprinted to what was behind me. Inside the Cornucopia, a bloodbath had already brewed. Blood gushed out of limbs and fists landed onto faces. A cacophony of mortifying screams pierced the air as tributes fell and writhed in strength-draining pain, one by one. I shook my head out of the distraction and ran to the mouth of the Cornucopia and grabbed a red shoulder-bag that sat just outside of the gates. I sprinted away into the trees, where I felt safest. Some tributes had the sense to run into the forest like I did but it didn't stop them from trying to eliminate me. Throwing knives and sharp rocks thrown from slingshots were aimed straight at me but I ducked and dodged away from the projectiles. I ran deeper towards the heart of the woods. My legs took longer strides and they leapt over boulders and logs before my mind could register their actions. I then slowed to a walk and tucked my wand in my boot when I was sure I was safe, preserving my energy. My heart pounded against my head and my limbs were heavy. I looked for a thick tree with branches thick enough to support my weight. Most of the trees around me had thin, flimsy branches which meant I had to walk for longer. I finally found a thick tree with low branches, easy enough to climb. I found nooks and crannies as foot-and-hand-holds. My foot cautiously leaned on a branch to make sure it wouldn't rot beneath me before I put my whole weight on it. I kept testing the branches out as I climbed higher up. I found the branches becoming slimmer so I rested myself just a bit below where the branches could still hold my weight and it was too high up for anyone - or anything - to get me. I lifted my shoulder-bag and browsed through its contents. A black canteen only half-filled with water; a packet of fruits, a long coil of thick rope and a sort of fishing net, a tinder box for fires, a thick black jacket and some dried meat. It was a good enough set of supplies. There was only one that I wished I retrieved. I longed to have my father's daggers in my hands again. Only with them, especially in this place, did I feel safe. I returned the supplies into the large red shoulder bag and went back the way I ran. Silly tributes forgot to pick up their knives. I broke into a jog and plucked the knives from the trees whenever I found them. Soft footsteps began to echo mine and I froze in place. Another knife came out of nowhere and headed in my direction, whistling past my ear. I ducked and hid behind trees. I looked down at the ground and just realised how much my bag made me a target. The footsteps got louder and louder as they approached me. The amount of noise some people made on the forest floor made me cringe. I looked past the trees and saw no one there. My brow furrowed.