Harry watched Yennefer drift into a fitful sleep after eating the small portion of food he had brought. Her pallor was troubling, her breath shallow and laboured, it concerned him more than he'd like to admit 'I need to get the medicine soon,' he thought to himself. He stood up to leave, to rest before tomorrow's fight, but as he turned to go, a small, trembling voice stopped him. "Harry, can you stay for a bit?" Ciri's eyes were wide and pleading. "Please." It was that final plea that for to him, that broke past any reluctance he might have had, he nodded before sitting down against the cave wall, Ciri trotted over towards him sitting down next to him, she was about an arm's length away but was hesitant to move any closer.
"What's your favourite colour?" she asked, in a childlike voice.
"Green," Harry replied, staring ahead.
"Do you like animals?" she continued.
"Yes."
"What's your favourite food?"
"Don't know."
The questions kept coming, simple and innocent, but Harry's answers remained curt. He could see Ciri was trying to distract herself, she was just as worried about Yennefer as he was. He imagined it was difficult to watch someone you care about die slowly. "Have you eaten all your food?" Harry asked, noticing the untouched portion beside her.
Ciri pouted and shook her head. "I don't want to eat."
"You need to," Harry insisted as he picked up the food and handed it to her. She hesitated, then reluctantly took the bread and cheese, nibbling at it. Harry watched her, ensuring she ate enough. After a few minutes, she started playing around, making faces and pretending the bread was something else. "Eat properly," Harry said, his voice flat.
"Okay, okay," Ciri giggled, finally sitting down to eat more seriously.
As she finished her food, Harry noticed that her gaze drifted to Yennefer and saw how any happiness she had started to melt away, he decided to try and lighten the mood and help distract her. "So, do you think you could beat me in a race?" he asked, though he chided himself for asking such a stupid question.
Ciri's eyes lit up with amusement. "You? I bet I could beat you even if you had a head start!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I guess we'll have to test that out someday."
She giggled again, the sound a welcome relief in the oppressive atmosphere of the cave. "You're on! But I warn you, I'm really fast."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said, maintaining his stoic expression.
Ciri looked at him curiously. "Do you ever have fun, Harry?"
"Not much lately," he admitted.
"Well, maybe we can change that," she said with determination. "When we get out of here, we'll have lots of fun. I promise."
Harry's face remained impassive. "Sure..."
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, Harry felt like he was learning how to interact with people all over again. It was difficult and honestly, all he wanted to do was leave and go back to his cave where he could ignore Miguel and Yaga, Yuki would ignore him anyway unless it involved her training. But it seemed he struggled to see children so sad and so he tried to bring up another light topic. "So, how did you and Yennefer meet?" He asked.
Ciri's eyes brightened a little. "Yennefer stayed in the castle where I grew up. I think we're second or third cousins, at least that's what she said."
"One night, my father took me outside... he was going to hurt me. Yennefer had seen how they treated me, and she followed us. She blasted him away before he could kill me. Then she took me away, but we were captured and thrown in here," She finished.
Harry was silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of her words. "Yennefer must really care about you," he said finally.
Ciri nodded. "She does. She saved me."
There was a pause, and then Ciri asked, "Where did you grow up?"
"In a normal house with normal people," Harry replied, his tone flat.
"What were the normal people like?" she pressed.
Harry's lips twitched slightly. "Vernon and Dudley were so fat, you could ride them like a horse."
Ciri giggled, the sound brightening the dark cave. "No way!"
Harry nodded, the brief humour fading quickly. There was something that bothered him about Ciri, the fact she was able to be so cheery despite where they were, only earlier today he had watched a man rip a woman from where she was sleeping and take her deep into his cave, what happened to her Harry didn't know but she never emerged. "How can you be so happy in a place like this?" he asked, curiosity.
Ciri's smile faded slightly. "Because I have friends," she said softly. "Back home, I didn't have friends. Everyone would ignore me, even the servants. It was like they-"
"Hated you," Harry finished.
"I know what that's like," Harry said quietly, thinking back to his own childhood. He wondered how happy the Dursleys would be to hear of his death.
Ciri looked at him, her eyes wide with empathy. "Do you have any friends, Harry?"
Harry paused, his mind drifting to memories of Tonks, Cedric, Susan, Hermione, and finally Hannah. A flash of pain shot through him, making his heart clench. Unbeknownst to him, tears began to pour down his face. "I don't have any friends... Not anymore," He said his voice cracking slightly.
Ciri reached out, touching his arm gently. "Your face looks sad a lot of the time."
Harry laughed humorlessly, wiping his eyes. "I guess I am sad."
"Why are you sad?" she asked her voice barely a whisper, filled with genuine concern.
Harry struggled to speak, his throat tightening. "Someone important to me isn't here anymore," he stuttered out, each word a painful effort. This was the first time he'd spoken about anything relating to what happened, he never talked about it, not even in his own mind. Saying that one sentence made everything real to Harry, where he was, what had happened.
'Hannah was dead'
Ciri looked at him with wide, understanding eyes. She moved closer, hugging his arm tightly. Harry couldn't help but chuckle lightly at being comforted by someone half his age, but he supposed it didn't matter. They sat in silence for a while, Harry tried to bury his thoughts back down, to close the lid on them. He didn't want to feel this way, he didn't want to think about it, he couldn't afford to feel this way at a time like this.
"I think... it's okay to be sad," Ciri said softly.
"Crying always makes me feel better," she added as she looked up to Harry with her bright green eyes.
"Do you miss your home?" he asked, wanting to shift the focus away from his own pain.
Ciri shrugged. "Not really. It never felt like home. This place... it's scary, but at least I have people who care about me."
Harry nodded and allowed Ciri to get closer to him and hug him tighter, a silence stretched over the two of them before Ciri broke it again. "Do you think we'll get out of here?" Ciri asked.
"I don't know," Harry replied honestly. "But I'll make sure you and Yennefer are safe."
Ciri nodded, her grip on his arm tightening. "Thank you, Harry."
He looked at her with a serious expression. "You should get some rest tomorrow will be another long day."
As he stood up to leave, Ciri's voice stopped him once more. "Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Promise you won't leave us."
...
The next day, Harry, Miguel, and Yuki made their way through the throng of prisoners, they headed towards the centre of the crowd. The air was thick with tension, the scent of sweat and dirt mingling with the metallic tang of blood. At the centre stood a large ring, ten feet into the ground, with smoothed-down rock walls that left only a single rope for entry and exit. This was the arena, the place where prisoners were pitted against each other like animals for the sick enjoyment of the Templar guards who watched from above.
Harry glanced up at the cylindrical building stretching all the way to the ceiling. Balconies surrounded it, each one manned by guards with guns trained on the crowd below, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He had often wondered if one day they would just end things and kill everyone down here, it wouldn't be too hard with so many gathered here. "Man, this place is such a shit hole, though he was as mostly referring to the people around him," Miguel muttered, his eyes darting around. Yuki wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Disgusting. Not a single attractive man or woman in sight. Just a bunch of filthy, desperate animals." A few people heard what Yuki said and shot her a glare including Miguel.
As they walked, Miguel pumped his fists behind Harry. "You have this, my friend. You have this. Just keep your head down and your fists up." Harry ignored him and remained silent. He tied ragged white strips of cloth around his fists and between his knuckles. When they reached the centre, they saw two men already in the ring, locked in a brutal, desperate struggle. Blood splattered the ground as they clawed, gouged, punched, and kicked wildly. Miguel let out a nervous laugh. "You got this... "he repeated, but the confidence in his voice had waned, replaced by a thin veneer of bravado.
Yuki snickered but told them both to stay put. "Stay here and watch. This is what you're up against," she said, her eyes never leaving the ring.
The fight ended with the slightly larger man pinning the smaller one to the ground, slamming his head into the floor repeatedly until it burst. Half the crowd erupted in cheers while the other half shouted and screamed in anger. Only the rifles trained on them from above kept them from acting out; many had learned the hard way what happened to those who started fights.
As they watched the victor leave the arena, Miguel started hitting Harry's arm excitedly. "Look, look! It's Apolline Delacour!" he exclaimed. Harry followed Miguel's gaze and saw Apolline, the beautiful Veela woman in her late thirties, sitting on the shoulder of Boulder, the half-giant. She watched the event with a dangerous smile. It didn't surprise Harry; from what Miguel had told him, many fought and died in her name.
"Man, she's gorgeous, ain't she? Just look at her," Miguel continued, unable to hide his lust as he adjusted his trousers. "Bet half these fools would kill their own mama just for a glance from her." Harry ignored Miguel's ramblings, his eyes locking with Apolline's briefly. She smiled at him, a look that sent chills down his spine.
Suddenly, shouts erupted nearby. Harry and Miguel turned to see a couple of rough-looking prisoners arguing. They looked hungry, desperate, and angry. The argument escalated quickly, curses flying back and forth until fists started swinging. But before it could go any further, a gunshot rang out. Both men dropped dead, shot in the head by the guards above. The Templars laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that made Harry's blood boil.
He clenched his fists, ready to act, but Yuki grabbed his shoulder. "Your fight's next," she said, her voice cutting through his anger. Harry nodded, pushing down his rage. There would be a time for that, but not now. He had to focus on the fight ahead. They moved closer to the ring as the rope was thrown down for the next combatant. The crowd parted slightly, giving Harry a clear path. Miguel patted him on the back. "You got this, man. Just remember what we talked about. Keep your guard up."
Yuki grabbed him and spun him around. "Don't lose your first fight, if you die so soon I'd have to kill myself out of shame," she said. Yuki then smirked and pressed her knuckle against his forehead. As reluctant as she was to teach Harry she had to admit it had been fun, especially since he'd pushed her to improve a bit as well.
"How many times do I have to fight to get what I need?" Harry asked.
"It's a set amount every time you fight, but the more consecutive fights you have the more people will bet against you, especially if you get injured, so it depends on how many times you're willing you are to fight today," Yuki replied.
"If I want to fight more what do I do?"Harry asked.
"Just stay in the arena, usually it's first come first serve," Yuki responded.
As Harry went to turn and enter the arena Yuki grabbed him by the arm "Don't forget, be smart, don't be an animal like the rest of these people," Yuki warned.
Harry turned towards the pit and pushed through the few people in front of him before jumping down. The sound of laughter and jeering echoed throughout the cavern as the crowd laid eyes on him. He was only a young teenager, so they all assumed he'd be slaughtered. As Harry stood in the arena, someone jumped down opposite him. His opponent was tall, at least a head taller than Harry, with a muscular build that seemed impossible given the lack of food. But it didn't take Harry long to realize that the man was a cannibal; they were some of the only people with an abundance of food down in this place.
The crowd roared for blood as the cannibal approached Harry. There was no referee, only one person you paid to fight and place bets with—the same person you got food from. The fight started as soon as both fighters were in the arena. The cannibal roared and charged at Harry. His wild eyes locked onto Harry with a hunger that was more than just for victory. Harry remained calm, his eyes never leaving his opponent as he prepared himself.
The cannibal's first swing was wild and unfocused, a massive fist aimed at Harry's head. Harry ducked under it effortlessly, his movements quick and precise. He countered with a sharp jab to the cannibal's ribs, feeling the satisfying thud of his fist connecting with his muscle. The cannibal roared in pain and fury, swinging again with reckless abandon. Harry sidestepped, avoiding the blow and landing a powerful punch to the cannibal's kidney. The larger man staggered but quickly recovered, his eyes blazing with rage.
The crowd's jeers turned to cheers as they realized this fight might be more interesting than they'd initially thought. Harry continued to evade the cannibal's attacks, each movement fluid and calculated. He was smaller and not as strong, but he used it to his advantage, slipping through the cannibal's defences and landing blow after blow. The cannibal tried to grapple Harry, lunging forward with both arms outstretched. Harry anticipated the move, grabbing one of the cannibal's arms and twisting it behind his back. He kicked the back of the cannibal's knee, forcing him to the ground. Without hesitation, Harry drove his elbow into the back of the man's neck, sending him face-first into the dirt.
Harry didn't stop. He grabbed the back of the cannibal's head and slammed his face into the ground repeatedly. Blood splattered across the arena floor as the cannibal's nose broke, his teeth cracking under the relentless assault. From the sidelines, Miguel watched in shock. "Damn, I almost feel bad for him," he muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the brutal scene.
Yuki stood beside him, arms crossed. "He was trained by me, what did you expect."
The cannibal tried to rise, but Harry was relentless. He yanked the man to his feet and threw him against the wall of the arena. The impact reverberated through the cavern, drawing gasps from the crowd. Harry moved in, delivering a series of punishing blows to the cannibal's midsection. Fourteen continuous days punching rock with his bare fists had turned them hard, the flesh before him was nothing compared to the jagged surface of the cavern walls. His ribs cracked and fractured under the constant barrage. Desperate, the cannibal swung wildly again, but Harry ducked and stepped inside his guard. He wrapped his arms around the cannibal's waist and lifted him off the ground, slamming him down hard. The ground shook with the impact, and the cannibal lay there, dazed and bleeding.
Harry knelt beside him, grabbing a handful of the man's hair and lifting his head. He drove his fist into the cannibal's face, again and again, each blow more brutal than the last. Blood sprayed across Harry's face and chest, but he didn't stop. The cannibal's face became a mess of blood and broken bone, barely recognizable. The crowd was on its feet, the roar deafening. They chanted for blood, their bloodlust insatiable. Harry stood, breathing heavily, his knuckles raw and bleeding. He looked down at the cannibal, who lay motionless on the ground, unconscious or worse.
The fight was over. Harry had won.
He walked away from the disgusting creature he'd just beaten and walked to the middle of the arena waiting for his next opponent. The crowd's roars were a constant backdrop, their bloodlust insatiable. He wiped the blood from his knuckles, his breath steady as he prepared himself for whoever chose to fight him next. A large, skinny African man jumped down into the pit. Despite his lean frame, he had a lot of muscle, the kind that spoke of strength and endurance rather than bulk. The man's eyes were sharp and calculating as he sized up Harry.
"My name is Ade," the man said, his voice calm but firm. "I will not kill you, but I will hurt you badly enough that you'll never come here again."
Harry didn't reply. He moved into his stance, his focus narrowing to the man in front of him. Ade had seen how swiftly Harry had dealt with the Cannibal and so he moved cautiously to him, this small bit of intelligence put him leagues above the cannibal in fighting, at least in Harry's opinion. Harry knew this would be a bit more challenging. Ade sent a couple of fast punches towards Harry, who weaved between them effortlessly. Harry countered with his own strikes, but Ade deflected them with ease before countering with his own attack. Harry quickly realized this man was nothing like his previous opponent. Ade's punches were fast and precise, each one aimed with deadly accuracy. Harry dodged and blocked as best he could, but the man's longer reach made it difficult.
Ade feinted with a jab, then followed with a swift hook that caught Harry on the side of the head. Harry stumbled but regained his footing quickly, throwing a quick jab that Ade deflected with ease. Harry weaved between Ade's punches, looking for an opening. He landed a few quick strikes to Ade's midsection, but the man took them well despite how hard they were, countering with a rapid series of punches that forced Harry to retreat. Ade's fighting style was fluid, each movement blending seamlessly into the next. He landed a hard punch to Harry's ribs, followed by a quick uppercut that sent Harry sprawling to the ground. The crowd roared in approval as Harry rolled with the impact, moving to his knees and then back to his feet. Both fighters continued exchanging blows with increasing intensity. Harry could feel the sting of Ade's punches, each one leaving a mark. He chastised himself as he realised that he'd allowed the man to dictate the terms of the fight, it was clear to see the man as a proficient boxer, at least that's what his stance suggested. Harry had been subconsciously trying to match him in that regard. 'Stupid...' he thought to himself.
So he shifted his strategy, targeting Ade's legs. He ducked under a punch and delivered a sharp kick to Ade's thigh. Ade grunted in pain, his movements faltering slightly. Harry pressed the advantage, landing another kick to the man's knee. Ade countered with a powerful punch that caught Harry on the jaw, but Harry shook it off, moving in close and delivering a series of rapid punches to Ade's midsection. The larger man staggered his defence weakening.
Harry saw his opening. He grabbed Ade's arm and hip-threw him onto the ground with a grunt of effort. Ade hit the ground hard, the air rushing from his lungs. Harry didn't waste a moment. He dropped to his knees, driving his knee into Ade's stomach. Ade gasped in pain, his body curling instinctively to protect itself. Harry grabbed the back of Ade's head and slammed his fist into the man's face repeatedly. Blood sprayed across the arena floor as Harry's knuckles connected with Ade's nose and mouth, each blow more brutal than the last. The crowd's roars grew louder, their bloodlust reaching a fever pitch. Harry's breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles burning with exertion, but he didn't stop.
Ade's struggles weakened, his body going limp under Harry's assault. Harry stood, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles. He looked down at Ade, who lay motionless on the ground, unconscious or worse. Harry moved away from the body a little further back from the middle before he took a seat on the ground, Yuki had told him that the bodies were left in the pit until the end of the day when people could remove them for the promise of food. Around the arena there were dozens of dead and unconscious people —though they were mostly dead.
Harry touched his ribs and hissed slightly, they'd taken a nasty punch from Ade and while he didn't think the bone was damaged the tissue felt like it had been shredded. Though he was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the crowd start to chant, his next opponent was coming and it seemed like he was a fan favourite.
"Fenrir."
"Fenrir."
"Fenrir."
"Fenrir."
"Fenrir."
Dropping down into the arena with a thud as a man almost a foot taller than him. Harry assumed the man was a cannibal, but quickly changed his opinion as he inspected Fenrir, he had claws and fangs and his eyes were an amber colour.
This man was a werewolf.
(AN: So the death games have started and Harry is doing pretty well, he does have a good teacher. Anyway I'm sure some of you are wondering... wait a second, why is Harry doing so mediocre against these people when he had such a good fight against Yuki. Well Yuki is his teacher, she wasn't fighting to maim or kill him, she was also holding back to his level or he wouldn't learn. She's developed her body and martial arts for a lot longer than Harry, the body being a more important aspect as like how Harry can condition his hands she conditioned her whole body making her stronger than the average person, even without magic. Think of it like Baki or Kengen. I also tried to develop Ciri a little more. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
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