Chapter Text
Harry couldn’t stop fidgeting with his ring as he lay in his sleeping bag beside Theo. Terry lay curled on his side, his wand clutched loosely in his hand even as he slept. Lilian, smaller and more fragile than the rest of them, had tucked herself tightly into her sleeping bag, her body almost disappearing under the folds of fabric. Pansy was sprawled awkwardly, her arm stretched out to the side, and Theo… well, Theo slept with his dagger clutched in her hand, his expression hard even in unconsciousness.
All of them had been asleep for some time now, apparently reassured by the wards they had placed around the Cornucopia. For the most part, Harry felt confident in them too. He wasn’t an expert in runes or warding by any means, but between the five of them, they had crafted protections that felt as solid and impenetrable as they could make them under the circumstances. Yet, tonight, an unfamiliar vulnerability gnawed at him, keeping his mind restless and his heart uneasy.
He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to quiet the nagging sense of vulnerability gnawing at his chest. His fingers brushed against the ring on his finger, the smooth metal cool to the touch. It grounded him for a moment, his thumb idly spinning the band again as he gazed at it. His Districs Token.
It was Bella who had given it to him, but its design unmistakably bore Regulus’s subtle touch. The band was simple, made of smooth, understated gold, but what made it unique was the inner mechanism: a thin band that spun freely around his finger, its intricate carvings shifting with each turn. As he twisted it absentmindedly, the engravings transformed. A crescent moon appeared first, then the constellation of Regulus, Antlers, a Lillie and finally Sirius. Over and over, the images shifted, a quiet distraction that grounded him. Harry’s thumb paused over the engraving of Regulus’s constellation, his fingers tracing the familiar lines. His thoughts wandered to the man, wondering what Regulus might think of his actions—or more his inaction so far in the arena.
He lingered on the Sirius constellation next and Harry’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. He could almost imagine what Sirius and Bella would be shouting at the screen right now. Sirius would be encouraging him, pushing him to fight, to keep going.
Bella, on the other hand, would be furious. Harry could almost picture her pacing in front of a screen, cursing his hesitancy, demanding that he stop sitting idle, stop playing it safe, and start doing something—anything—to take out the competition. He imagined her shouting at him to fight, to win, to live. The thought was as maddening as it was reassuring. Bella’s fiery disapproval and Sirius objections he could handle; Regulus’ quiet disappointment? That was something else entirely.
Since the bloodbath, their group had done little besides fortify their shelter and figure out the mysteries of the Cornucopia and the Whomping Willow. Harry’s lips quirked bitterly at the thought of how it had been him, of all people, who stumbled upon the secret to pacifying the tree. It hadn’t been some grand stroke of brilliance but sheer accident.
He remembered how he and Lilian had ventured into the Cornucopia to assess what supplies they had to work with. At first glance, it seemed promising, almost overflowing with resources. But as they sifted through the contents, it became clear that most of it was useless. Among the treasures of fresh food, water, and a modest assortment of medicinal herbs, there were heaps of rotting food that filled the space with an unbearable stench. And the weapons? They were either blunt, broken, or made of cheap, useless plastic.
Frustrated and exhausted, Harry had leaned back against the Cornucopia’s curved metal wall, letting his head thunk against the surface. The moment his body made contact, there was a faint click, and the Whomping Willow’s thrashing outside suddenly… stopped.
Just like that. It only lasted a few minutes before the branches resumed their violent thrashing, but it was enough for the group to exploit.
He and Lilian had stared at each other in stunned silence, the stillness outside almost deafening after the chaos. The reprieve lasted only a few minutes, but it was enough to give them hope.
They agreed they needed to clear the Cornucopia of its foul contents to make it a viable shelter. But clearing the rot wasn’t as simple as it should have been. Vanishing Charms, which they initially assumed were merely restricted in some areas of the arena, didn’t work at all. In fact, no magic seemed capable of interacting with the rotting food. Worse, they discovered they couldn’t remove it from the Cornucopia either—something in the arena’s enchantments kept it trapped inside.
The smell, unbearable from the start, only worsened as the days went by. It clung to everything, creeping into their clothes, their hair, even their skin. Bubble-Head Charms offered only temporary reprieve. And then there were the insects—fat, glistening beetles that oozed an acrid-smelling slime and swarmed over the rotten food. Small, spiny flies burrowed into every crevice, biting exposed skin. At night, large moth-like creatures with shimmering, venomous wings emerged, drawn to the rotting stench. Once, Theo had accidentally squashed one, only for it to explode into a cloud of corrosive green goo that burned through his sleeve.
The worst were the maggots—sickly pale and the size of Harry’s thumb. They burrowed into the rotting food, wriggling and squirming in a way that made Harry’s skin crawl. More than once, they had woken up to find the maggots had somehow made their way into their sleeping bags, the slimy creatures squirming against their skin.
Sleep became almost impossible.
For four nights, they debated leaving, but the Cornucopia still offered the best shelter. They wouldn’t find another place with as much solid protection, especially after they worked so hard to go make it safe. Then, finally, Terry found a solution. The boy from three managed to ignite the rotting supplies without destroying the Cornucopia itself. It wasn’t easy—whatever magic protected the supplies also made them resistant to fire—but after hours of careful spell- and runework and even more experimentation, Terry found a way. The fire burned hot and bright, the flames consuming the rot and filth in a matter of hours. For the first time, the Cornucopia felt like a sanctuary rather than a trap.
Harry had been so relieved he could have kissed Terry, though he doubted the boy would have appreciated it. It also had made him think about Riddle which was something he desperately tried not to do.
Despite the initial setbacks, their time in the Cornucopia had been relatively comfortable—at least by the arena’s standards.
But even the relative comfort of their newfound shelter couldn’t erase the memory of that first day. The image of Daphne’s body haunted Harry, a constant weight pressing on his chest. He couldn’t stop replaying it in his mind—the blur of movement, the screams, the blood.
His throat tightened, his chest ached every time her name even flitted across his mind. He swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in his eyes. Of course, he had known that this could happen, however, he'd never expected her to die on the first day. Neither of them did. Theos grieve might not be as visible as harry feared his own was, but it was in the small moment where it became obvious. Like when they were talking and Theo would make a sarcastic comments and his eyes would flicker to an empty space, expecting to find the girl.
The first moments of the arena were a blur. He’d been running on pure adrenaline and panic, everything passing in chaos and flashes. Even now, it was hard to remember the details clearly. He only recalled the overwhelming noise—the screams, the pounding of feet, the furious crack of spells—and the smell of blood.
So much blood.
It wasn’t until later, after the worst of it had ended, that Harry saw her. Daphne. Or what was left of her. Her blonde hair, matted with blood and dirt, was the first thing he’d noticed. There wasn’t much else to identify her by; her body was mangled almost beyond recognition. But he knew. He’d known instantly.
He still wasn’t sure how their alliance had formed in the aftermath. He’d stumbled into Terry while the boy was desperately trying to pull Lilian out of the Willow’s range. They could have killed him then—Harry was so dazed he probably wouldn’t have even fought back—but they didn’t. Theo had accepted them easily enough. Pansy had complained, of course, but ultimately, she didn’t have much choice.
Harry swallowed hard, forcing the memory away. He couldn’t afford to dwell on it, not now.
A sharp, acrid smell broke through Harry’s thoughts. Smoke. His head snapped up, and he sat bolt upright, heart already pounding. He scrambled out of his sleeping bag and stumbled toward the Cornucopia’s entrance, his movements clumsy with sleep.
“What the hell…” he muttered under his breath, the smell intensifying as he reached the threshold. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he braced himself for what he might find.
The others were stirring now, Terry blinking blearily as he pushed himself up. “What’s going on?”
“I smell smoke,” Harry said, already moving toward the entrance.
“Smoke?” Theos voice was sharp as she sat up, her dagger glinting in the faint light. “You think the wards are failing?”
Harry didn’t answer, his focus already on the faint orange glow he could see through the entrance.
The smell of burning was stronger now, acrid and biting. Harry’s eyes scanned the horizon, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
In the distance, beyond the trees, the forest was burning.
Lilian came up beside him,”Thats a big fire.”
Pansy stepped out from behind one of the larger crates, her sharp eyes narrowing as she followed Harry’s gaze. “That’s not just a campfire,” she muttered. “That’s—”
“A forest fire,” Theo finished grimly.
“Its moving too fast for it too be natural. Its prob—”
The sound of the canon made them freeze.
“Who do you think was that?” Terrys voice was low, his gaze focused only on the mass of flames in the distance.
Theo shoot him a look. “It doesn't really matter, does it? As big as it is it will most likely will take out even more.”
Lilian's face was ashen and her voice hoarse. “Do you think it’s the Gamemakers?”
“Of course it is,” Pansy said, her tone clipped. “What else could it be? They don’t want us getting too comfortable, remember?”
Theo nodded, his face pale. “And fires like that—they don’t just stay in one place. If the wind shifts, it’ll head straight for us.”
“Brilliant,” Pansy muttered, crossing her arms. “Another bloody disaster waiting to happen. At least it’s far off for now.”
“We should find a way to improve the wards. Even if the fire stays on its current path, there is a chance the fire will stire all the creatures and tributes right to us.” Harry elbowed Terry slightly, bringing his attention back to the others. “We should be prepared for all possibilitys.”
“Harrys right. You remember the rune sequence I told you about? If we're hurry, it will be in place before sunrise.” They all turned to Terry, who was already making his way towards the ward line.
The got to work immidantly, craving runes onto small stones that they had found by the river. Just when they were halfway through, it started to rain.
At first, it was a light drizzle, clearing the air from the suffocating feeling. But it quickly grew heavier, a torrential downpour that soaked everything in minutes. Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew something was wrong.
Still, they worked through it, caving runes as fast and as meticulousł as they could.
“This is ridiculous,” Pansy said, her voice muffled by the hood of her cloak. “It’s like they want us to drown.”
“They don’t want us to drown,” Theo said, his tone distracted as he focused back on craving runes onto a stone. “They want us weak. Vulnerable.”
“At least the fire extinguished the fire.” Liliana voiced softly.
Pansy didn't even try to hide her sneer. “Well obviously, Moon. No need to state the obvious.”
“No need to become snappy, Pansy.”
Harry honestly couldn't understand Panys problem with the tributes from 3. They were mostly quiet and more than smart. Pansy, however, decided to ignore their good attitudes and simply focused on disliking them.
Harry's unease only grew as they finished their work and went outside to set them up. The second they stept outside, Harry met Lilians eyes. The girl was as magically sensitive as himself, or most likely even more and the look in her eyes said it all. Sometimes was wrong. Really wrong.
They spread out the stones under Terrys strict guidance as fast as they could. The rain continuing to pour heavily on them. Harry thought about casting an umbrella charm over himself, but something stopped him and a emptiness started to spread deep inside of him.
The runes sparked briefly as Terry activated them, but the light fizzled out almost immediately. He froze, his eyes widening in confusion.
“What was that?” Pansy asked, her voice sharp.
“I—I don’t know,” Terry stammered. He tried again, tracing the runes with his wand, but the same thing happened. A brief spark, then nothing.
“It’s not going to work,” Harry said, a sinking feeling in his chest. His eyes collided with Lilians again, his own expression mirrored on the girls face.
“But it has to work,” Terry insisted, his voice rising. “I did—we did everything right. I know it. It’s just—maybe the rain is interfering somehow.”
Pansy snorted. “Oh, sure. Let’s blame the weather.”
“It’s not just the weather,” Harry said, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s the rain. Its no normal rain.” Theo looked at him, his brow furrowed, but eyes sharp. “What do you mean?”
“Can't you feel it? The way it clings to your skin, seeping into every pore, every curve and hollow?” His voice rose with frustration as he spoke.
“What are you talking about?” Pansy snapped.
Harry didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he raised his wand and tried a simple Lumos. Nothing. Not even a spark.
“It’s taking our magic—or apparently magic in general,” Harry said grimly.
The realization hit them like a thunderclap. Their magic—the one thing they relied on most—was gone. And not only they inherent magic, but also they wards, their first line of protection. The rain stripped it all away, leaving them vulnerable and exposed.
Terry slammed his wand against the ground in frustration. Looking at the runes with such betrayal, “This can’t be happening.”
“It is,” Theo said flatly, his arms crossed. “And panicking isn’t going to fix it.”
Lilian looked close to tears. “Without magic, we’re sitting ducks. What if something attacks us? What if—”
“Enough!” Harry snapped, his voice cutting through the growing tension. “We’re not going to fall apart over this. We’ll figure it out.”
“Figure what out?” Pansy shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “How to survive with nothing? Because that’s where we’re headed.”
“The rain is pouring everywhere in the arena, we are not the only ones without magic, they all are. And we at least have a waterproof shelter with an inherent security system. Harry pointed at the Whomping Willow, who's branches were moving around dosile.
“We forgot for someone to stay inside to stop the branches.” Lilians voice was unbelieving. “How could be have been so stupid. With the muddy ground its going to become even harder to avoid the tree.”
Harry closed his eyes, talking a deep breath. They really had been stupid. “Maybe the rain will stop before we know it. Theo, you got your knife on you, right.”
“Of course, I am not stupid.”
“Great. The sun is already raising, lets try to hunt some. Check out traps from before.”
“I will try to get inside again. I did it before and you know I am fast.” Lilians voice was hesitant, but he knew to girl could do it.
“Perfect. Pansy why don't you get some wood, so we can try for a fire later. It will take some time to dry once inside, but its better than nothing.”
Harry trudged through the thick underbrush, his jacket soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to his arms and chest. The rain had not stopped—not for a single moment since it started. It fell in cold, needling drops, managing to feel both relentless and utterly personal, as though it had been conjured specifically to ruin his morning.
Theo stomped beside him, the handle of his knife glinting under his sodden cloak. His dark hair dripped water onto his nose, but he didn’t seem to care. This was at least something Harry had not worry about. Shaving his hair in the middle of the night before entering the arena might have been a bit of an impulsive decision, but it really had its advantages. For once, he did not have to worry about how his birdnest of hair would look in the cameras and he had to come to enjoy the feeling of it, though it was growing out at a faster paste than he had expected.
Theo was grinning, his sharp features catching the faint grey light of dawn. Harry suspected Theo’s cheer had less to do with the miserable weather and more to do with the bird they’d caught in the traps they had set the day before.
“Another beautiful day in paradise,” Harry muttered, his voice thick with sarcasm as his boots squelched in the mud. “Nothing like a sunrise stroll through freezing rain to remind you how much life hates you.”
“Think of it this way,” Theo replied, adjusting his grip on his knife. “At least the rain’s washing the mud off your boots. Free cleaning service.”
Harry shot him a look, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead. “Yes, Theo, because that’s the silver lining I needed today. What would I do without your relentless optimism?”
Theo snorted and jabbed a finger toward the trap they were nearing, a crude contraption made of string and branches that had miraculously snagged a bird. “You’d starve, for starters.”
The bird in question was hanging upside down, its wings flailing slightly as if it hadn’t yet figured out its predicament. Harry sighed. “Great. Breakfast is served. I hope you like your sparrow rare because we’ll be lucky if it even makes a meal for one.”
Theo crouched, his knife glinting again as he reached for the bird. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s not like we haven’t eaten worse. Remember the fish stew Pansy made last week? That was practically a war crime.”
“I’d forgotten about that,” Harry said with a grimace. “Thanks for bringing it back. I’m already so cheered up by this lovely morning, might as well pile on the trauma.”
Theo worked quickly, his movements precise as he dispatched the bird and untangled it from the trap. “You’re welcome. I live to spread joy.” He rung its neck in a swift movement and tucked the bird into a smell bag he is been carrying vince he found it and straightened, motioning toward another nearby trap. “Come on, let’s check the others. I’m not spending the day eating a single pigeon’s worth of meat.”
Harry followed him, the rain soaking his collar as he adjusted his grip on the makeshift spear they’d cobbled together a few days ago. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and catch a rabbit. Something with actual substance.”
“Hope springs eternal,” Theo said, his voice dry. They reached the second trap, this one hidden in a patch of reeds near a shallow stream. To Harry’s surprise, it held a rabbit—small and thin but undeniably a rabbit.
“Well, would you look at that,” Harry said, crouching to inspect the trap. “Actual food. Maybe the arena’s feeling generous today.”
Theo didn’t hesitate. He pulled his knife and dealt with the rabbit quickly and cleanly, then held it up triumphantly. “Breakfast just got a little more exciting. You still want to complain about the rain?”
“Yes,” Harry deadpanned, standing and brushing wet leaves off his knees. “Because no amount of rabbit is going to make me enjoy being cold and drenched at dawn.”
Theo shrugged, slinging the rabbit into his bag alongside the bird. “Suit yourself, Potter. Let’s try the stream next. Maybe we’ll catch a fish or two to really spice things up.”
He sighed, glancing at the grey sky as rain continued to pour. “I love your boundless enthusiasm. Truly, it’s what’s keeping me alive right now.”
Theo smirked. “That and my knife skills.”
They trudged toward the stream in silence, the sound of rain on leaves filling the air. The stream was swollen from the constant downpour, its surface rippling as water rushed past. Theo knelt on the bank, pulling a length of string from his bag and tying it to the end of a sturdy stick. “You ever fished before?” he asked, not looking up.
“Not without magic, so no?” Harry said, watching as Theo baited the string with a scrap of meat.
“Well,” Theo said, tossing the improvised line into the water. “It can't be to hard, can it?”
“Love that attitude,” Harry said, crossing his arms and shivering as the cold seeped deeper into his bones. “However, I’m sure this’ll be a great bonding experience.”
Theo grinned, holding the stick steady. “You’re already bonded to me, Potter. Whether you like it or not.”
Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smirk. “Lucky me.”
The minutes dragged on, the rain relentless and the cold biting. Harry sat on a nearby rock, his jacket doing little to keep him warm as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. “I’m starting to think the fish are smarter than us,” he said after a while.
“They probably are,” Theo replied, his tone distracted as he kept his eyes on the water. “But we’ve got opposable thumbs, so who’s really winning?”
Harry barked a laugh despite himself, his breath misting in the chilly air. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
Theo grinned. “And yet here you are, shivering next to me instead of running back to the Cornucopia. But don't you worry, Love. If you ask nicely enough I might be generous enoughto share some body heat.”
“Keep dreaming, Sweetheart. Maybe I’m just waiting for the moment you trip and fall in,” Harry said dryly. “It’d make my day.”
Theo chuckled, glancing at Harry over his shoulder. “Careful, Potter. Keep talking like that and I might accidentally stab you with my pretty little knife.”
“You’d miss me,” Harry shot back, shaking his head. Despite the rain, despite the cold, the banter felt like a small reprieve—a fleeting moment of normalcy in an arena designed to break them.
And for now, it was enough.
Theo stared at the rushing stream, his makeshift fishing rod now lying abandoned beside him. The string dangled uselessly in the water, utterly ignored by the fish below. He clicked his tongue in irritation, tugging his soaked jacket tighter around his shoulders.
“Well, this is a monumental failure,” Theo muttered. “I’d like to formally apologize to our stomachs for getting their hopes up.”
Harry crouched by the bank, peering into the water. His teeth chattered slightly, but he ignored it, too focused on the stream. “You’re giving up already?” he asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “What happened to your boundless enthusiasm?”
The others hand twitched toward the hilt of his knife. “Keep pushing me, Potter, and I’ll carve you open before I throw you into the water for bait.”
Harry smirked. “Touching. But as much as I’d love to watch you lose your mind—or my marvelous mind, I actually have an idea. Just… don’t laugh.”
“Don’t laugh?” Theo raised an eyebrow, already intrigued. “Potter, when you say that, it usually means I’m about to witness something profoundly stupid.”
Harry ignored him, shrugging off his soaking wet cloak and pulling off his jumper with a grimace. The cold hit him immediately, sharp and biting, but he gritted his teeth and worked quickly.
“Care to enlighten me before hypothermia sets in?” Theo asked, watching as Harry tied the sleeves of his jumper together. “I mean I am all in for the view, of course. What have you been eating that your muscles keep growing? Did you cheat me out of my rations?
Harry tossed the makeshift net at him, shutting him up. “Here, hold this. And stop acting like I’m about to lose a limb. This is an old survival trick. Works better if you’ve got a real net, but… desperate times, right?”
Harry would not allow himself to think about who had told him about the hack. He would not.
Theo caught the jumper with a bemused expression, holding it up and inspecting it. “So the plan is to catch fish… with your clothes?”
“Yes,” Harry said simply, grabbing a few sturdy branches from nearby. “You hold that at one end of the stream, and I’ll drive the fish toward you.”
Theo barked a short laugh, shaking his head. “This is either going to be brilliant or utterly pathetic. I’m betting on pathetic.”
He rolled his eyes as he splashed into the freezing water, hissing through his teeth as the cold hit him. “You just keep holding that jumper steady and let me worry about the fish.”
Theo crouched at the edge of the bank, holding the jumper taut between his hands. “If this works, I’m demanding a statue in my honor.”
“If this works,” Harry shot back, carefully wading further into the stream, “you can make yourself a crown out of rabbit bones. Now shut up and focus.”
The water surged around Harry’s legs as he used the branches to stir up the stream bed, kicking at rocks and sending small ripples downstream. He hoped the movement would spook the fish, herding them toward Theo’s makeshift net. The cold numbed his legs, but he forced himself to keep going, splashing with exaggerated movements.
“Anything?” he called over the sound of the rushing water.
“Not yet,” Theo replied, his voice carrying a hint of skepticism. “Are you sure this isn’t just a creative way to make me look ridiculous?”
“Positive,” Harry said, swatting at the water with the branches. He was starting to think this was a waste of time when he caught a glimpse of movement—a flash of silver darting downstream. “Wait! There’s one coming your way! Hold steady!”
The boy straightened, his eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on the jumper. A moment later, a fish flopped into the fabric, wriggling frantically as Theo scrambled to twist the sleeves and trap it inside.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Theo said, grinning as he held up the writhing bundle. “You actually did it.”
“See?” Harry said, wading out of the water with a triumphant smirk. “You doubted me, and now we’ve got more breakfast.”
Theo untied the jumper, holding the fish up for inspection. It wasn’t large by any stretch, but it was better than nothing. “Impressive, Potter. I’ll give you that. Although…” He gestured to Harry’s soaking wet clothes and pale skin. “You look like a drowned rat. A victorious drowned rat, but still.”
Harry grabbed his jacket from the ground and wrapped it around himself, shivering violently. “Yeah, well, at least I’m not the one who just caught a fish in a jumper. Good luck living that down.”
Theo smirked, already setting up the jumper again. “It was your idea, love. But care to try for another?”
Harry groaned but stepped back into the freezing water. “Fine. But if I lose a toe to frostbite, you will have to carry me everywhere.”
Theo laughed, holding the net taut once more. “Deal. Now hurry up. I don’t want to miss my crown ceremony.”
“If anyone deserves a crown, its me.”Harry mumbled.
———————
The trek back to the Cornucopia was miserable. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but it was still freezing, and Harry’s clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin. Theo was no better off, muttering curses under his breath as they trudged through the muddy ground, their prize—a skinned rabbit, a small bird and three small fish—dangling from a makeshift sling Harry had crafted with his jumper.
The sight of their shelter came into view, the imposing structure of the Cornucopia looming ahead, its golden gleam dulled by the damp weather. The Whomping Willow’s branches twitched lazily, seemingly indifferent to their approach. Harry and Theo exchanged a glance.
“Think Lilian managed to sweet-talk the tree into letting her in?” Theo asked, shivering beneath his soaked cloak.
“Either that or she learned how to dodge really, really well,” Harry replied, adjusting his grip on the sling. “Or she’s not inside at all, and we’re walking into a nightmare.”
As they neared the Cornucopia, the sound of raised voices reached their ears. Harry sighed. “And there’s our daily dose of Pansy drama.”
Theo groaned. “I don’t have the energy for this. If she’s shouting about rationing again, I might just kill her.”
The two of them ducked into the Cornucopia’s entrance, maneuvering around the motionless Willow with practiced care. Sure enough, Pansy was standing in the center of the shelter, her arms crossed as she glared daggers at Lilian and Terry. Lilian, to her credit, looked calm, though her jaw was tight. Terry, however, was red-faced and fuming.
“You’re completely useless,” Pansy snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the drizzle still dripping from the roof. “You didn’t even manage to find anything out there. Meanwhile, Theo and Harry—”
“Are standing right here,” Harry interrupted, stepping fully into view and shaking water off his body like a dog. “And we don’t appreciate being dragged into your mess.”
Pansy spun toward him, her expression twisting into one of exasperation. “Well, at least you two brought back something useful. What did they do?They are completely useless?”
“I got back into the Cornucopia,” Lilian said evenly, though there was a dangerous edge to her voice. “I am the reason any of you was able to get inside.”
Terry threw up his hands. “Merlin, Pansy, why don’t you go pick a fight with the Willow next time? Or maybe just leave us alone!”
“Don’t tempt me,” Pansy shot back, her hands clenched into fists. “Being alone would be better than being with the lot of you!”
“Enough,” Theo interjected, holding up the rabbit like it was a trophy. “Can we not do this while Harry and I are literally freezing? We’ve got food. Be happy. Argue later.”
“Or just never,” Harry muttered, peeling off his soaking shirt and trousers and dumping it in a corner. The cold air hit him like a slap, and he immediately wrapped himself in one of the remaining blankets. Theo followed suit, grumbling as he shrugged off his wet shirt and threw another blanket over his shoulders.
“You are disgusting,” Pansy said, though her tone lacked venom.
“Better than hypothermia,” Theo shot back. “Speaking of which, we’re going to need a fire.”
“Good luck,” Terry said, slumping against the wall. “The wood’s too damp. I tried earlier. All I got was smoke and misery.”
“Brilliant,” Harry muttered. “Alright, lets just try again. We might be able to eat the fish raw, but the bird and rabbit need to be cooked.”
He and Theo knelt near the pit they’d dug for cooking, arranging the damp wood as best they could. Harry struck the flint over and over, sparks flying uselessly against the sodden kindling. Theo leaned in, shielding the tiny flame from the breeze with his hands when it finally caught. It flickered weakly, barely more than a glow.
“This is pathetic,” Theo said flatly.
“It’s still a fire,” Harry retorted. “Shut up and start cooking.”
They managed to skewer the rabbit and bird, propping them above the flame with sticks. The fire hissed and popped as the damp wood steamed, and the meat began to char unevenly. Smoke curled around them, making Harry’s eyes water.
“Delicious,” Pansy said dryly, poking at the rabbit. “I can’t wait to feast on half-burnt, half-raw critter.”
“You’ll eat it and like it,” Harry replied. “Unless you want to go hunt down something better yourself.”
Theo opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of something thudding onto the ground behind them. They all turned, startled. A small package lay there, wrapped in shimmering material. Pansy snatched it up before anyone else could.
“A sponsor gift,” she said, tearing it open. Her expression twisted as she pulled out… a bathrobe. Two of them, actually. Blue with yellow fish on them. She held them up with a look of utter disgust. “Really?”
Harry burst out laughing, his breath puffing in the cold air. “Oh, this is perfect.”
Theo grabbed one of the robes and immediately pulled it on over his blanket. “I don’t care how stupid I look,” he said, sighing in relief as the warmth enveloped him. “This is amazing.”
He followed suit, tying the belt around his waist and spreading his arms dramatically. “Behold. The height of arena fashion.”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “You two are impossible.”
“Better than being insufferable,” Theo muttered under his breath, earning a glare from her.
The fire crackled faintly, the smell of cooking meat mingling with the damp air. For a moment, the group fell silent, the tension easing slightly as they all focused on the small, fragile warmth in the center of their shelter. Even Pansy didn’t say anything as Harry turned the rabbit over, the edges just starting to brown.
“Not bad for a couple of idiots in bathrobes,” Theo pretend whispered, his tone lighter now.
“Don’t forget it,” Harry replied, smirking. “We’re unstoppable.”
———————
The rain hadn’t stopped.
It had been four more days of relentless drizzle, cold winds, and damp clothes. The weak fire barely provided warmth, and with no way to dry their clothes properly, every layer of fabric stuck to their skin like a clammy second layer. The Cornucopia, once their safe haven, was starting to feel like a prison. The Whomping Willow loomed over them, twitching lazily in the rain, but its constant presence wasn’t as unnerving as the tension brewing between the tributes inside.
Harry sat near the fire pit, staring at the dying embers and feeling utterly useless. The traps they’d set in the forest the day before had come up empty again, and with no real source of food, their provisions were dwindling fast. The bird and rabbit from earlier hadn’t lasted long, and there was no sign of anything better coming their way. The river they had counted on so much simply vanished, leaving nothing behind. The arena, cruel as it was, seemed determined to starve them out.
Theo was sulking near the edge of the Cornucopia, sharpening the knife they’d used for cooking earlier. His sharp eyes flickered toward Pansy and Terry, who had been bickering since morning. Again.
“I’m just saying,” Terry snapped, pacing back and forth. His voice was sharp and strained, filled with the kind of frustration that came from days of hunger and cold. “If your precious sponsors could send us bathrobes, they can send us food. Maybe you should put on a little more of your charm and get us something useful for once!”
Pansy crossed her arms, her jaw clenched. “Oh, I’m sorry. Would you like me to ask them for a gourmet feast while I’m at it? Because clearly, I’m the one controlling what they send us. In cause you forgot, those stupid gifts were for the boys.And maybe—just maybe if you weren’t so bloody useless, we wouldn’t even need sponsors!”
“Useless?!” Terry’s face turned red. He gestured wildly toward the pitiful pile of damp wood near the fire. “Who do you think gathered all that wood? Who keeps trying to keep this fire going while you sit there, acting like you’re above all of us? Who worked his ass off for the wards that used to surround us.”
“You mean the fire that barely works and the wards that are completely useless?” Pansy shot back, stepping closer. Her voice dripped with venom. “Oh yes, Terry, you’re a real hero. Do you want a medal for mediocrity?”
“Alright, enough,” Harry interrupted, standing up and holding up his hands. “We’re all miserable, and yelling isn’t going to fix anything.”
Pansy and Terry glared at each other but fell silent, though the tension in the air was palpable.
By mid-afternoon, Pansy announced she was going into the woods.
“I’ll find something to eat,” she said coldly, throwing on her cloak and pulling up her hood.
“Be careful,” Theo said dryly, flipping his knife between his fingers. “Wouldn’t want to lose our shining example of grace and tact.”
Pansy ignored him, storming past the group and out into the rain.
When she returned hours later, the rain had eased slightly, though the ground was still slick with mud. Pansy’s cloathes were soaked through, and her hair clung to her face in wet strands. In her hands, she held a small bundle of roots and berries, her expression smug despite her bedraggled appearance.
“Here,” she said curtly, dumping the bundle onto a flat surface near the fire.
Terry leaned forward, eyeing the food with suspicion. “And what exactly are we supposed to do with these?”
“Eat them,” Pansy snapped. “Unless you’d rather starve.”
Terry rolled his eyes but grabbed a handful of berries, popping them into his mouth without hesitation.
“Finally,” he muttered around a mouthful. “Something that doesn’t taste like smoke and despair.”
For a moment, Harry thought that maybe the tension might ease. But then Terry’s face froze. His hand went to his throat, his eyes widening in alarm.
“Wait…” he choked out. “What… what is this?”
Panic shot through the group as Terry staggered to his feet, clutching at his neck. His face turned an alarming shade of red, then purple. He stumbled backward, knocking over one of their meager supply containers.
“Terry!” Lilian shouted, rushing to his side, but there was nothing anyone could do. Within moments, he collapsed, his body convulsing violently before going still.
The gong sounded.
A heavy silence fell over the group, broken only by the sound of the rain.
“What the hell did you do, Pansy?” Theo demanded, his voice sharp and cold. His knife was already in his hand.
Pansy took a step back, her hands raised defensively. “I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know they were poisonous!”
“You didn’t know?” Lilian’s voice was shrill, her hands trembling as she knelt beside Terry’s lifeless body, holding him close. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the rain. “You killed him! You just killed him!” she started to stand, taking a step towards to other girl, obviously about to attack. “You monster, you disgusting wretched girl!”
Before they could physically attack each other. Harry embraced Lilian from behind, holding the girl close and holding her in place.
“It was an accident!” Pansy snapped, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
“An accident?” Theo repeated, his voice low and dangerous. He stood, his knife glinting in the dim light as he stepped toward her. “You’re telling me you fed him something without even checking if it was safe?”
“Of course I checked!” Pansy shouted, backing away from him. “How was I supposed to know? I’m not some bloody herbologist!”
“Theo, put the knife down.” Harry's voice was sharp.
“Why?” Theo growled, his eyes locked on Pansy. “She killed him, Harry. She deserves—”
“It was an accident,” Harry said firmly, though his voice wavered slightly. He wasn’t sure if he believed her, but the last thing they needed was another death. “We don’t know for sure what happened.”
Theo’s jaw tightened, his grip on the knife unyielding. “You think this was an accident? You’ve seen the way she’s been picking fights with him. You think this was a coincidence?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Pansy snapped, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness. “I didn’t kill him on purpose. Why would I? What possible reason would I have to do that?”
Lilian’s sobs filled the silence as the group stared each other down. The fragile alliance they’d built was crumbling, and Harry had no idea how to hold it together. Deep down he knew, knew that Pansy could be a malicious bitch. But he did not want to believe it, despite knowing the girl had killed the first day the Finnigan boy. But this was different, it was premeditated— planned.
The following morning, the rain had thinned to a light mist, though it was still enough to soak Harry's clothes as he trudged into the forest, his boots squelching in the mud. The tension left behind in the Cornucopia hung heavy on him, pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn’t shake. He didn’t want to be there anymore, didn’t want to be anywhere near the others. Not after Terry. Not after the screaming match that had followed his death, with Pansy defending herself, Theo pacing with his knife in hand, and Lilian breaking into sobs that had echoed through the cold, wet air.
It had been chaos. And now, there was nothing left of Terry but a body they didn’t know what to do with. They knew they had to be out of sight for it to vanish, but someone needed to stay inside for the Whomping Willow to stay calm and when Harry and Theo had tried to carry the body outside, they couldn't. It was just as it had been with the food—which was a disturbing thought. He had no doubt the Capitol was watching, waiting for them to implode further, for the fragile alliance to completely shatter and having a corpse laying around was a great trigger.
The traps they’d set were now only simple snares. Theo and he had constructed them and checked them every morning together. However, Theo hadn’t volunteered to come today, and Harry hadn’t pushed him. He was actually glad for space and time to think.
His breaths came out in visible puffs of air as he crouched near the first snare, which was empty, the bait untouched—just as it had been the days before. He checked the second, and his stomach sank further. His stomach growled loudly—painfully. They were running out of food, and the failure of the traps wasn’t helping anyone’s already fraying nerves.
He straightened up and adjusted the knife strapped to his side, pausing to scan the treeline. For the first time in days, the mist didn’t feel as suffocating. It wasn’t as thick, and for a moment, he almost thought—
A cannon fired in the distance.
Harry froze. His heart jumped into his throat as he looked toward the Cornucopia, suddenly gripped with panic.
Pansy and Lilian.
He broke into a run, the damp branches whipping against his arms and face as he barreled back toward their shelter. His pulse pounded in his ears, his mind racing. One of them was dead. It had to be. Maybe Lilian had finally had enough, maybe Pansy had snapped, maybe—
He broke through the treeline and skidded to a halt in the mud, his heart still racing.
They were alive.
But barely.
The rain had stopped.
Their magic was back.
He wished that it was not.
Harry hardly noticed, barely processed the fact that the clouds had cleared and weak sunlight was filtering through the trees. What he did notice was the shimmer of magic in the air, the sudden crackle that hadn’t been there in days.
Pansy and Lilian were in the middle of the clearing, circling each other like wolves ready to strike. Pansy’s face was twisted in fury, her wand held high and trembling with tension. Lilian stood a few feet away, her own wand drawn and her face pale but determined. Theo stood off to the side, his knife in hand but his expression wary, as though he wasn’t sure if he should step in or let them tear each other apart.
“Stop!” Harry shouted, his voice hoarse as he sprinted forward.
Neither of them listened.
“You’ve done nothing but pick fights since this alliance started!” Lilian shouted, her voice raw with anger and exhaustion. “You killed him, Pansy! You knew exactly what you were doing with those berries! It’s only right that you get what you deserve!”
“It was a fucking accident, you stupid girl!” Pansy screamed back, her face flushed with rage. “But if you want to leave so badly, maybe I should help you!”
Lilian cast first.
A jet of bright orange light shot from her wand, heading straight for Pansy, who deflected it with a swish of her own. The impact of the spells sent a ripple of energy through the air, and Harry felt the hair on his arms stand on end.
“They’re using magic,” Theo said flatly, stepping to Harry’s side with his knife still in hand. “This is bad.”
“No kidding!” Harry snapped.
Pansy moved. She flicked her wand with a deadly precision that Harry hadn’t expected, and Lilian barely managed to dodge the curse. It hit the ground where she’d been standing, and the soil turned black, rotting away in a matter of seconds.
“That’s enough!” Theo bellowed, lunging forward with his knife. He grabbed Pansy’s arm and tried to wrestle the wand from her grip, but she twisted out of his grasp with surprising strength.
Lilian seized the opportunity.
Her spell shot through the clearing like a streak of fire, aimed straight for Pansy.
Pansy deflected it with a sharp twist of her wrist, and the air between them crackled with raw energy. The spell ricocheted off her shield and slammed into a nearby tree, splitting the trunk in half with a deafening crack.
“You want to blame me for everything?” Pansy’s voice was icy now, low and dangerous. She took a step forward, her wand steady. “Fine. Blame me. But you’re not going to survive this on your own, Moon. You’re not strong enough. You’re a pathetic little girl, nothing more!”
Lilian’s response was another curse, this one aimed at Pansy’s legs. Pansy dodged it with a graceful sidestep, her wand flashing as she retaliated with a streak of sickly green light.
Harry’s stomach turned as he recognized the spell—a cutting hex, powerful and precise.
“Stop it!” Theo’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. He stepped forward, but neither woman paid him any attention.
Lilian’s shield charm absorbed the hex, but the impact sent her stumbling back. She recovered quickly, her eyes narrowing as she muttered an incantation Harry recognised far too well.
Lightning cracked through the clearing, striking the ground at Pansy’s feet. She jumped back, her expression shifting from anger to something closer to alarm.
“Oh, we’re doing that now, are we?” Pansy snarled. Her wand slashed through the air, and the ground beneath Lilian’s feet erupted, sending a spray of dirt and stones into the air.
Lilian fell, her left arm catching the brunt of the impact as she hit the ground. She screamed, clutching her arm as blood seeped through the sleeve of her jacket.
Harry took an involuntary step forward, his fists clenched. “Stop this!” he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of another curse tearing through the air.
Pansy wasn’t letting up. She advanced on Lilian, her expression cold and unrelenting.
“You think you can play hero?” Pansy’s voice was sharp, almost mocking. “You think you’re better than me? You’re not. None of us are better than this.”
Lilian raised her wand with her uninjured arm, but Pansy was faster.
“Mortifer!” Pansy’s voice rang out, the spell crackling with dark energy as it shot toward Lilian.
The curse struck Lilian’s left arm, and the effect was immediate. The flesh began to blacken and rot, the smell of decay filling the clearing. Lilian screamed again, louder this time, her wand slipping from her fingers as she fell back, clutching her arm in agony.
Harry couldn’t stand by any longer. He surged forward, grabbing Pansy’s wrist and wrenching it downward before she could cast again.
“Enough!” he shouted, his voice raw with anger.
Pansy struggled against his grip, her eyes blazing. “Let go of me, Potter!”
“She’s dying! Look at what you’ve done!”
Before Pansy could respond, Theo moved. His knife glinted in the sunlight as he stepped between them, his expression dark and dangerous.
“Back off, Pansy,” he said, his voice low and deadly.
Pansy hesitated, her gaze flicking between Theo’s knife and Lilian’s crumpled form.
Before anyone could react further, Lilian raised her wand weakly, her face pale and twisted with pain.
“Stupefy!”
The spell hit Pansy square in the chest, and she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
For a moment, the clearing was silent except for Lilian’s ragged breathing.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Lilian whispered, her voice barely audible. She struggled to her feet, her injured arm hanging limply at her side. “I’m not staying here.”
“Lilian, wait—” Harry began, but she shook her head.
“No,” she said firmly, her voice trembling. “I’m done.”
She turned and staggered toward the tree-line, disappearing into the shadows without looking back.
Harry stood frozen, his mind reeling. The rain was gone, the magic was back, and their fragile alliance had finally shattered. As he looked down at Pansy’s unconscious body and Theo’s grim expression, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer they could survive this.
Neither Theo nor Harry knew what to do with Pansy. They could easily renovate the girl, but neither of them did. They had levitated the girl inside. By some stroke of luck, the willow was still only sluggishly moving around, so it was easily enough.
Theo went back outside, planning on setting some magical traps, hoping they would have better results.
Harry, in the meantime, could only stare at the girl laying across from him, he knew they should wake her up, but it felt wrong. His thoughts drifted to Lilian. He had known Pansy for quite some time and felt a twisted kind of loyalty towards the girl, but he’d actually quite enjoyed the calming presence of Lilian. And her leaving because of Pansy didn’t feel right, especially since the girl was most likely dying right now somewhere alone.
So he just continued to stare at the girl while doing the things in the Cornucopia they did not have magic for before. Cleaning it a bit from the inside, as well as all the clothes, sleeping equipment and himself and activating the wards and warming runes. Being able to use his magic again felt amazing. The soft hum just beneath his skin brought him so much comfort and the thought of losing it again was agonising.