Chapter One: Harry
Shall I go on? I know what you're thinking. Why is Harry contemplating killing himself? Or maybe you don't even know who I am. Let me introduce myself briefly: My name is Harry Potter and I am currently fifteen years old. I am known as The Boy Who Lived. Voldemort, an evil and despicable wizard who killed my family and tried to kill me as a baby. That's how I got a scar on my head. Some people say it's a lightning bolt, but I know that it is the hand gesture for the "Avada Kedavra" killing curse. Voldemort and the Death Eaters (his followers) destroyed almost everything in the wizards' world to ruble. They got a few muggle items that were, apparently, explosive, walked inside a few buildings, and sacrificed themselves. Hermione, my best friend died during this including my inspiration Albus Dumbledore and many others. I didn't have much time to focus on grieving, I had to help lead us to a new home, for no one felt they could move on in that world. The wizarding world is now, and forever, depleted. That's how we ended up in Panem. Only 400 people survived: we had to find a new home.
So now here we are. Above ground unlike District 13. We are known as District 14, but we call ourselves Dumbledore's Army (DA). After Voldemort defeated us and we settled in, I felt sick to my stomach. We have resorted to moving over to a system with Districts and Hunger Games. What more do I have to live for? I don't have Hermione, Dumbledore or countless others of my friends and acquaintances. I'm hungrier than I was at the Dursleys' home and more tired than I was learning at school. Resortion is not something I like to use often; why fall back if you are pushing yourself to the best of your abilities? Pushing yourself is not supposed to leave you dwelling on the past while being forced into the future.
There are lots of new things here: people. Technology. Schedules. Hunger pangs (and Games).
. . .
Like I said, I am fifteen. That means I only have two reapings left in my entire lifetime… but how will I survive if I do get reaped? I am adjusting to not using magic, and it's pretty damn hard. How can you stop doing something you've used every day of your life for seven years? It's like learning about the beginning of Panem every day, and then stopping because someone told you it was all a lie.
I have only been here for two months and I am finished. The lack of food, my dead friends and the feeling of constant fear. Oh, the fear. Someone always knows. Is watching. Is in your mind and your thoughts. Stick to the schedule. Don't get out of your room after curfew. I have no family to share a room with and I get a little lonely at night. I do get to see Ron and my other friends everyday, but I miss having that comfort of someone with.
My favorite word is Krasivaya. It is Russian and is very meaningful to me. I found it in my favorite books: Through Tomorrow by Joselyn F. Sharp, my favorite novelist (She lives near Ron, also!). I know I am supposed to be a strong and masculine person, but I tend to have a bit of a soft side, even through war and tears. I'm about to open up to all of you: I love being in a relationship. Having a young woman my age I can take care of and protect is the best feeling in the world to me. Having someone underneath your arm or hugging you or kissing you or showing affection. It's the greatest. I always had a little crush on Ginny, but sadly, she's gone now. I miss her a lot.
Anyways, tomorrow's the reaping and I better get some rest. I'll share my other thoughts some other time :)