On the day of the choosing, Hermione was curled up, legs to her knees, in the library. She was reading about plants today, plants that may just save someone from life or death. She did this every year for the past four years, without fail. Well, not necessarily the same topic, but she retreated to the library and lost her where no one would disturb her.
Looking out the windows of Hogwarts, she wished it gave the same feeling of comfort it once had. But now all the trees seemed brittle, all the grass seemed less green, and the water didn't shimmer in the sunlight. The glass was dirty from a lack of cleaning, and the whole of her body felt as if she was about to barf. For the fourth year, she felt ready to give up magic completely.
If she ran into the muggle world, with her parents, they couldn't hurt her. She could hide. She could snap her wand. She could be safe. If she left now they'd never know. Run to the forest, and apparate and be gone before they could catch her.
It was too soon when the bells rang in the school, too soon for those death kneels to announce the death of so many students, people she knew. People she loved.
The whole area was silent, just the sound of padding feet echoed in the halls, with the occasional crying of a younger child. The first years were lucky, though, and shouldn't worry like Hermione did. As a seventh year, she was one step of being closer to getting out, but so much more likely to get in.
She saw Ron across the courtyard, the first time since Friday and they shared nervous looks. His hands were wringing incessantly, like he was trying to wash the skin away. But he smiled at her, his very Ron-like smile, and Hermione was nearly tempted to run over to him. The punishment if she did, though, which she was reminded of by the black-hooded people, would be severe.
The Death Eaters sat stone-like around the courtyard, and Hermione glared at each as she passed. A hand slipped into hers. She saw Ginny at her right, who was biting her lip. She squeezed Ginny's hand, but the expression on the girl didn't falter.
"Maybe, maybe it will be me today." She whispered, like she had every year. Hermione knew this was a two-way situation. Half of Ginny wanted to be picked-Hermione knew she'd win, or get pretty damn close, but the other half wanted to get as far away as she could. Hermione felt wholly of the latter.
"Maybe this year, it will be any of us." Hermione reminded, "Even me."
"Mudblood wouldn't last a day." Someone sneered from behind her. Blaise laughed, as did Crabbe and Goyle. The Slytherins came to this as a joke, very few found fear in this day or the event to follow. She wanted to wring their necks. But it was true; people like her never lasted long. Her heart clenched painfully.
"Shut up, Zabini! How'd you like your name picked." Ginny spun on her heels, her hands flying to where her wand was. Hermione grabbed her arm, and forced her friend away. If she even shows her wand to them, even casually, she'd be up there killed without any time to defend herself. Zabini threw a smile over at her, because he knew this. And even her words were weak; Slytherins weren't picked. Slytherins were never in.
She wondered where Malfoy was, and saw him sitting by his father, on the stage. He was probably practicing for his new job, she thought bitterly.
Hermione was ushered into a line where a masked man waved a wand over her hand, drew some blood, and her body hummed. It was the pact; the no getting out way to keep the tributes before anything rash could happen.
It hurt like a second-degree burn each year.
Then she stood at the bottom of the podium, hanging back near Ginny and Luna who had appeared to her other side. The three gazed up at the number of orbs on the stage. 24. How would it be happening this year?
The whole of students fell quiet. She looked around, and saw faces she knew and knew that may be dead at the end of the summer. Teach the kids Voldemort's brainwash crap for a year, then kill off some of the students in these idiotic 'games' at the end of each. Remind people that even when school is out, in the summer, he's still there. His power is always there.
There was a clacking of heels and a flash of gaudy pink. Umbridge waltzed to the stage, giggling and nodding to the officials that sat with the Malfoys in the front. The microphone was on, and she tapped it twice.
"Hello? Hello?" Her voice reverberated around the courtyard, "Well, welcome to the fourth annual Green Games!"
They way she said it, it sounded like spring and beauty and nature. But Hermione knew that green was not all so. She knew the name was because of the horrible green one saw right before they died from the Avada. She knew it was because of the color of Nagini, who sat before Voldemort and all his other snakes that so loved the color of his house. She knew it was because of the poison that turned green and made the drinker lose their mind. She knew it was green like the weeds in the garden, like each tribute, that was plucked from the crowds and killed in the most horrible way possible.
Green was not the color of life anymore; it was the color of death.
Umbridge began the history of the Green Games, and Hermione's heart twisted painfully.
It had been her third year, and Voldemort had returned. There had been a group of older children from Hogwarts that had formed a rebellion from getting information from the Order. Harry, thirteen-year-old Harry hadn't known better. He'd just wanted to be a hero, to help, to save lives. The plan failed. Voldemort rose to power that year, and twelve kids from fourth-year to seventh-year were brought out in front of the parents, students, teachers and everyone else at Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley cried to see Charlie- who had graduated, but was the eldest and the one who spearheaded the attack, and Percy.
He should have killed them right there. Executed them. But his lip curled, and his smile was deadly as he said he had decided on a better punishment. A fight to the death between the children. Whoever won would gain his favor and be spared and kept safe for the rest of their life. Every student had to watch. Every family mourned.
At first, there was no fighting. But something snapped in one of the minds of a Ravenclaw. That was all that was needed, along with a couple disasters or horrors, for the bloodbath to begin. Harry, the youngest, hadn't won. Oliver Wood did.
The next year, they hadn't expected the same, but Voldemort said they need to be reminded of it. They had to pay for the rebellion with more children. And it evolved to be the Green Games.
Voldemort, by the second time, had united Beaubaxtons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts into one school. He sorted the students of the first two into houses, and therefore many of the faces Hermione saw were children she did not know. There was never a set number of how or who would be chosen, just that she knew that being a female, Gryffindor, and a Muggle born put her in hot water every year.
She was sickened by it. Now, now Purebloods loved the sport. They treated it like it was only a game, only good fun. They took bets on who would win, gave money to those they liked, and made a spectacle of it. It was only people like the Weasleys and the Longbottoms that saw the games for what they were and refused to take part of it. Because of that, she thought, it seemed the games were slowly killing off each Weasley until there would be none less. Fred was lucky enough to be a Victor the second year, and Bill was safe because he was far too old. Percy, Charlie, and George were gone though. It was only time, probably this year, where either Ron or Ginny- maybe even both- were chosen. Being a seventh year, her name was in there seven times. And she didn't have to do the math; there were only a handful of female Gryffindors to choose from.
"This year, Voldemort has chosen to change the games." Big surprise, Hermione thought. The second year, they picked from a bowl of children. The third year, they took away wands. It was only expected that he would change another part this year.
"Voldemort would like to remind us that none of us are safe; that at any corner could be betrayal. That only he can be the one to keep us safe, not even those closet to him. This year, Slytherins will be added to the games as well."
Bedlam. That's all Hermione could think. Utter chaos. She looked around; some were yelling, some were fighting to the front. She swung her gaze up. Malfoy looked petrified.
Once the crowd had quieted, Umbridge continued. "We will have 24 tributes. Twelve girls and twelve boys. A muggle born, pure-blood, and half-blood from each house."
This hadn't changed her chances, but she was pleased to see the terror rising on the faces of many Slytherins. Blaise looked ready to puke, and Lucius had disappeared in a flutter of his robes, presumably to go and talk to Voldemort- who didn't dare make an appearance here today.
"Shall we begin?" Umbridge giggled, and beneath each bowl lit up a line of figures. Under the first was BHP. Boy-Hufflepuff-Pure.
Her fingers floated around the bowl, fishing for a ticket, like the best would magically pop into her hands. Hermione would have been surprised, of course, had it been magically altered.
Umbridge returned to the Microphone, broke the seal, and opened her lips. "Ernie McMillian." Hermione gulped. Ernie was a good guy. Strong hands, worked on a farm, moderately smart. He was handsome though, and a couple girls in the crowd began to cry. Good guys like him shouldn't have to die.
The choosing continued.
Two former Durmstrang boys- the Pure-blood and Muggle Born- were chosen for Ravenclaw. Ron was picked for the Gryffindor pureblood, nothing much that she hadn't expected. It still hurt, but those numbers were dwindling too. Ron's whole face was pale and dead as he was escorted to stage, a permeate look of horror slapped on his expression. Ginny's hand tensed, and her lips trembled.
Seamus was chosen too, along with Colin Creevy. Better him than his brother Dennis. While it was unusual for smaller children to be chosen, it happened, and they died quickly into the games. Once, two years ago, someone volunteered for a third year who began to cry on stage. Other than that, no one else had ever offered to be part of these games.
Next was the Slytherins. Her hands went to the Muggle born ones first. It was a kid from Durmstrange she didn't know. He looked stringy, though. He would hardly last a day, she reckoned. But perhaps there was cunning she couldn't see. He was in Slytherin after all.
Blaise was picked for the half-bloods. She hadn't known he was one, and the shame on his face and surprise on the crowd told her no one else had either.
Umbridge's fingers twirled around the Pure-bloods. She looked around. Crabbe and Goyle looked ready to kill. Their massive hands would easily crush skulls if they were picked. They were sadistic and devoid of any humanity anymore- they were monsters. If they were picked, it would be the bloodiest games yet.
Umbridge plucked a paper, and opened it with her fat fingers. Something in her eyes gleamed.
"Draco Malfoy!"
Lucius, who was just returning, froze on the steps to the podium. Draco was pale as a ghost, and he looked fearful. For once, he didn't look like a man; he looked like a child. Someone, a Death Eater pushed him forward. Lucius was now enraged, and had pulled Umbridge aside.
"I pulled his name, Malfoy." She was saying, because Hermione was near the front and could read her lips, "If no over offers, then he is in the games." Hermione's head whipped around to Crabbe and Goyle. They didn't move. No one did. Draco was shoved in front of his bowl, next to Blaise, all fancy in his suit. He looked out of place.
Next came the females. Hufflepuffs. Hermione knew these more intimately than the boys picked. It seemed that it was rigged for the seventh years, and her felt something inside of her die in the way they would at each name.
Luna was chosen for the pureblood Ravenclaw. Ginny wouldn't let her hand go, and Hermione had to pry it away. Ginny had turned to one of her classmates, a Pureblood Ravenclaw and began to cry and ask why she wasn't volunteering. Luna was part of the flame that was undetected at Hogwarts. It was something that all those loyal to Harry had been with; secretly rebelling in every way they could since his death. To show that they would still win. Luna was one of the best she was fearless. She was too good to die.
The youngest was chosen for the Muggle-born Ravenclaw. Elizabeth Archibald was chosen at the age of 13. She was a run for Hermione's money in the brains department, and Hermione felt a tug at her heart when she walked past, head held high and kissed her twin brother good-bye on the cheek.
Slytherins next, perhaps so she could move the choosing along if there was another scene. She hadn't known Pansy was half-blooded, like Blaise had been. She snapped at people who made comments, and had to be restrained by a Death Eater when her hands went to someone's neck.
"Oh, plenty of time for that in the games!" Umbridge tutted with a laugh.
The Gryffindors. Lavender for the pureblood. She looked terrified, Hermione thought. She twirled her hair and held back sobs, checking her make-up to be sure it hadn't run all the way up to the stands.
A girl who had attended Hogwarts for a year, then transferred to Beaubaxtons, then ended right back up in Hogwarts took the stage for the half-bloods.
Lastly came the Muggle-born. Umbridge waited a painfully long time to choose, because everyone was itching to know the last name chosen. She curled her fingers around a paper.
"Not Hermione, please no." Ginny whispered, squeezing Hermione's hand tight. Hermione silently prayed with her.
"Our last tribute will be...Artemis Lapun!"
"Yes!" Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, but Hermione moaned in horror.
"No..."
For a second, there wasn't any movement. Then the crowd near the back parted, and a first year was avoided like a disease. She tried to back up, but was pushed forward by her classmates. Her black hair shook as she started to hyperventilate, and tears ran down her flushed cheeks. Death Eaters began to move forward to grab her, and Hermione searched the crowd widly. She had two older sisters. Her heart clenched with anger when she found the third year, Scarlett Lapun, who just looked at her sister with sorrowful eyes. Okay, she was thirteen. Thirteen year olds shouldn't die either. She searched madly for the seventh year, who had previously gone to Beaubaxtons, Blair Lapun. The eldest Lapun made her enraged. Blair was talking to a fellow Ravenclaw, with a look that said 'she'll be dead soon.'
Neither offered themselves up. Neither sister moved.
It seemed Ginny knew what was happening before Hermione did. She grabbed Hermione's arm.
"No! Hermione, just five more seconds, and you never have to worry about being picked again! This is suicide! Please, Hermione. Not you too!" Hermione had shrugged her off though, and broke the crowd as Artemis passed by, half-dragged by the Death Eaters. Everyone looked at her.
"I'll take her place. I'll take her place. I offer to." Hermione spoke before she knew what she was saying. It all happened so fast. Artemis cried and ran, hugging her and burying her face in Hermione's skirts. People began to whisper. Artemis was yanked away and Hermione was pushed toward the stage.
"Well this is exciting!" Umbridge fluffed her hair, "Hermione Granger, is it?"
"Yes." Hermione said, swallowing bile. Umbridge had busted her a couple times in the school. There was a look of triumph in the woman's eyes.
"And we have our last student." She announced, and Hermione finally looked around.
Oh my god. She'd have to kill them. Her friends, her dearest friends. She'd have to kill them or watch them be killed in front of her. Merlin, how did this happen?
Ron looked at her, and there were a thousand unsaid words in his eyes. Hermione didn't hear the clapping as she closed her eyes and tried not to start crying. When she opened, and looked around, she saw everyone's cheeks were stained with slip-away tears too.