The Hogwarts Games: In Ruins

Chapter 10: James

No one else really went to Strategy Making as much as I did. I guess they figured that it possibly couldn't be that useful. Or as important as the other things they needed to learn. That was an advantage for me.

And I'd worked out a strategy for these Games. I'd planned out everything. I had backup plans too. No one knows them but me. Not even Albus or Lily.

It was a bit stressful being the oldest of three, and the son of the Boy Who Lived. And things had just gotten a lot worse with these Games. I intended to come out alive.

However, that wasn't my number one priority.

~

I immediately headed to Muggle weapons after breakfast. I was doing very well with the sword, according to Davis. Davis was the instructor. I decided to become friendly with this guy, he could've given me some tips.

He believed I was ready to face one of the dueling dummies. At first, it was easy. Block, block, slash, block, slash. Stab.

But then Davis decided to give me more of a challenge. The dummies got faster. They got smarter. And the duels got more violent.

"You're a natural," Davis had stated when I'd decapitated the twenty fifth dummy.

"Thanks."

"Let's have you duel with an actual person now."

"What?"

"Don't worry, you'll be using blunt swords. Because if you died in training, well, that'd make the Games less fun for the Dark Lord. The person you're dueling is about the same level as you. Same amount of skill."

He pointed to a sixth year boy who was sharpening a sword. "You're going to be dueling Logan Ravenwood."

The boy looked up, hearing his name, "Huh?"

"You're going to be dueling James here."

He shrugged and grabbed a blunt practice sword, "Okay."

Davis handed me an identical practice sword. "On the count of three."

From the Healing station, Albus and Lily looked over to me nervously. I mouthed back, It will be fine.

"One, two, THREE!"

Logan launched himself at me, the tip of his sword aimed at my heart. I stepped to the side and slashed at his ribcage. He whirled around in surprise and I aimed to stabbed at his heart. He was fast. He ducked and sliced at my legs. I had jumped at the last second and brought the sword down. If it was a real sword, then it would've pierced through his heart instantly.

Apparently Logan didn't like the fact that I'd beat him in a duel because he was shooting me death glares for the rest of the day. I'd probably have to watch out for him in the arena.

Healing didn't go as well. I had done fine with magical healing remedies, but it was a disaster with Muggle healing remedies. Somehow, I had gotten stitches and splints mixed up.

"Stitches are to sew the skin together. Splints are used to immobilize a fractured or dislocated bone," someone said behind me.

It was a third year boy. The Hufflepuff crest gleamed on his chest. He was tall for his year, had pale skin, a pointed chin, and light blonde hair.

"Er," I said at a loss for words, "Thank you, um-"

"Scorpius Malfoy," he extended his hand towards me.

"Scorpius," I shook his hand, "Thanks for the help. I didn't know that you knew about Muggle healing remedies."

"I'd take it that you've heard of my father," he said a bit bitterly, "Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, pureblooded family, racist, all those wonderful things." His tone dripped with sarcasm at the last statement.

I had. Dad had said that the Malfoys were a proud, pureblooded family, supporters of Voldemort. And they were prejudiced against Muggleborns. Lucius Malfoy had given Mum Tom Riddle's diary. Narcissa Malfoy had saved Harry's life though. And Draco Malfoy had called Aunt Hermione a Mudblood. And according to Uncle Ron, she slapped him in third year, which he described as "the good old days," causing Hermione to blush furiously.

"Well, yes," I replied.

He sighed, "I should've known. I'm used to it though. People have always asked me why I didn't end up in Slytherin like most of my family. Why Hufflepuff? But I assure you, I'm not prejudiced. My father, he's a different story. But he's not as bad as my grandfather."

The stupid question came out of my mouth before I could stop it, "Do you like being in Hufflepuff?"

"What's not to like? They're hard working, kind, determined. It gave my family quite a shock though. But they were okay about it, if you don't count Grandpa Lucius."

I snorted at the thought of Lucius Malfoy's reaction, "What did he do?"

"He went on and on about how Hufflepuff house was worthless. But he's always like that. Well, you probably don't want me bothering you anymore. Bye." Scorpius headed to the Herbology station.

I never did Dark Arts. Not even when I had gone to the Dark Arts station. I had simply just observed. No matter how much I probably needed it in the arena, I refused to give in. I hated the Dark Arts. I loathed them. The closest I ever got to Dark Arts was Sectumsempra. That was it.

I would never succumb to that level. Or at least not try to. I would have to be really desperate. But I don't think I would ever be able to look upon myself in a mirror ever again. Because the Dark Arts are why we must live this way. We must fight simply for the Dark Lord's amusement, to prove that he controls us all.

And we must kill.