Prologue

"Mr. President, Sir." Mumbled, the fumbling general. Staring fearfully at his shiny black shoes. He tried to swallow down the lump in his throat and spoke more firmly. "President Riddle."

Their was a reaction this time, and the man behind the large, fancy desk shifted against the leathery fabric of the dark green chair he sat in. His pale face turned up to the man in front of him. His eyes were a dark brown, almost black. They flashed dangerously taking in the timid man in front of him.

"What?" President Riddle snapped. Impatient and angry that the general was not at his place- fighting those undeserving and infuriating rebels of District 13.

The man's eyes flitted up for only a minute before dancing away and looking around the large office. "The rebels are gone..."

"Gone?" Riddle sneered, sitting straighter. "Are you saying, that the nuclear magic was successful?" He inquires, archly.

There was a long pause of silence as the general fought for the right words.. "Yes." He whispers, and then clears his throat, talking louder as he adds. "They are gone, sir. No one is left, the entire District is in flames and smoke. There is no sign of their leader, Dumbledore."

President Riddle considers this for a minute, and a triumph smirk crosses over his fairly handsome features- if they were not so dark- and then he hums consideringly under his breath. He uses one hand to twist his chair around, his back facing the general, and then looking out of the window now in front of him.

Below he could see the surrounding Capitol, to his mansion. His hands fold together in his lap as his eyes dart around the flickering lights out there, in the sea of advance buildings. His lips purse together as he thinks about the last decade of war, of rebels, and spies. The difficulty among other Districts, that had not the strength or magic to overcome President Riddle like District 13 had. Only because of their leader though, the long silvery bearded man, Albus Dumbledore.

Who had dared to challenge Riddle!

The thought was angering to the President and his shoulders tensed, he wanted more revenge then this. Then just the hardly fulfilling information that District 13 lay in ruins... he wanted his power to be known- not to be challenged. He wanted the message clear: The Capitol rules, and the Districts listen to its orders.

And he would not let them forget this day, or the passed few years... not anytime soon. There was going to be an example here. That being: You do not challenge the Capitol, or you are to be destroyed. "Get me the other generals." President Riddle hisses, a plot roiling in his mind.

The general was unnerved slightly, by the snarl in his leaders voice, he was hesitant to accept. "Sir, there is no nee-"

"Do as you're told, general!" Riddle exclaims, whipping around in his chair, and glaring at the man. There was a minute where the general appeared ready to fight back.. but he could not help and shudder in fear when looking upon President Riddle's twisted face with those viciously gleaming eyes.

"Yes." He mutters, numbly, and then scuttled from the room.

Once he was gone, Riddle sat back again, his face falling to his previous ponderous expression. He could picture it now.. the worst humiliation and reminder. Gory and cruel, yet necessary. And.. strangely entertaining. Like a game.. he muses, and then smirks.

"Yes, a Game..." He murmurs, his eyes lighting with rushing ideas. "The Games... The Hunger Games.."

Once everyone of any great importance or influence had been ordered to President Riddle's mansion. There was a meeting held in a larger room then the fancy office of his, it was a cozy room, warmed by a roaring fire that was placed at the head of the hall- a long, extravagant table placed in the middle of the room. The walls were a dark green, a chandelier hung down over the table that was a fine silver and it gave the room a ghoulish glow, that threatened to over come the warmth in the air.

If it weren't for the words though, then the room might have been better perceived. The words that sent chills up the generals spines: from excitement or fear, that varied among those around the table.

President Riddle was thrown into plans, advance and well thought out. He was an ambitious man, he left no mistakes or loopholes- he was straight to the point in his proposition.

"What will teach them to behave more then fear?" He demands, at the head of the table, his voice drilling against their eardrums- yet it was a sly hiss of a tone at the same time, that was equally fearful and enduring to everyone around him. "And not just for themselves.. but their children!"

Some daring ones, or eager to please followers- nodded in agreement around the table.

Riddle's lips turn up in amusement. "They will be called the Hunger Games. They will be given to the hands of nature, but altered. We will control the surroundings- the way we like. And they must fight to the death, until one is to live..." He paused, surveying each ones face.

There was a tall man though, a strong willed one, who was whole heartedly for the plan and did not want to speak against his leaders thoughts- yet he muttered. "Wouldn't it be better to kill all? To leave no hope at all?"

Riddle let out a good humored laugh, it was high pitched- it made people cringe. "Why, yes but this is about reminders. And that child will be haunted by every single dead tribute for the rest of their life's, and the child will represent the killings, the Game. Even how unwilling they are to it, they will be forced to recall those painful moments.. as will the families and those who knew of the tributes."

There were no questions this time around.

"There will be twenty-four. Two from each District, one male and one female. Ranging from twelve to seventeen. They will be pulled on a day we shall call the Reaping. People will gather in the square- the mayor will read a speech of the 'Dark Days' and then they will watch their children walk off to hell."

"Are there no rules in the arena, sir?" Mumbles a strict faced woman, about three people down on the left. She was not all for this, but some things... are needed. Control was necessary- to preserve life.

"Yes, McGonagall, there are no rules.." Riddle paused though, for a moment. "Except no cannibalism and... no wands."

"No wands?" Exclaimed another general. Many looked shocked by this. The same general added. "But how do you expect them to fight?"

Riddle shrugged, uncaring of their concern. "They will receive mediocre, ancient weapons. They will get a week in the Capitol to train with them- we must build them a building to stay in! And potions will be allowed, with the weapons placed in a.. witches hat, an enlarged one, on its side. Animagus' are allowed, as well."

He ponders more, and a woman on the far is leans forward muttering. "Don't you think we should show them off a bit more? Flaunt the character to the world? Make them feel the loss?"

Riddle smiled, tight lipped and wickedly at her. "Yes. Very nicely said." He thought that over a minute and muttered. "There shall be interviews, the night before the Game, each one gets three minutes. And before that, the night before that- we shall up hold a scoring of their skills. From one to ten. We shall tape and air everything, the reaping, the whole Game. All mandatory. With the anthem, and speeches. Oh!" He grinned. "The first night they get here, they shall receive stylists, then be paraded around in the Capitol streets- presented to our citizens as entertainment and potentially victors."

There was a wave of agreement from his generals. Then he stood up from the chair he sat in- leaning forward and smacking his hands onto the table wood in front of him. His black eyes were looking among the faces of the some twenty generals there, darkly amused and excited.

"You!" He exclaims, pushing his shoulders straighter and his voice becoming louder. "Are no longer generals, my men and women- from now on, you will be the first to bestow the honor of the title.. Gamemaker."

There was a round of applause then, Riddle stood straight, soaking it in. Not two minutes later did he bite down to the real details.

In two weeks time- the first Reaping day would be upheld, an arena will be created, and twenty-three children would die. But of course... everyone has a back story, of woes and family, a secreted romance, and unshared love. This story is no different..

A/N: This is a shared story, with my friend: HarryPotterLover8789. This won't be a cheesy story, it is well thought out, and plotted. There is romance, action, and suspense. MANY of known characters from the marauder era. And plenty of other stuff. There is not Katniss or Peeta or etc.. No Hunger Game characters, just the plot from Collins beautiful series. And all the characters from our lovely J.K Rowlings. Please review. Thanks for reading. -Gina & Taryn(: