A/N: This is a submission for the "Harry Potter in the Hunger Games Challenge" on the HPFC forum. This is my first ever crossover fic, so I hope you enjoy it! Don't hesitate to leave a critique.

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling or Suzanne Collins. I do not own any of these characters.

The Death Games

Prologue

"The preparations are all in order, my Lord," said the blonde-haired man in a drawling voice. "The contestants are being held by the Dementors."

"Excellent," said the second man, who was sitting rigidly in the former Headmaster's chair. The Great Hall before him was empty, save for himself, the blonde-haired man standing beside him, a rather gaunt-looking woman sitting directly to his left, and a massive snake that slithered quietly at his feet. He had taken great lengths to restoring Hogwarts Castle to its former glory, and after months of repair, the place looked as though there had never been a battle waged within it.

Nagini, the man's snake, began to coil her body around one of the legs of the table, and he stroked her head absently while he silently went over the plan in his head. The Battle of Hogwarts may have been over, but the question of what to do with the remaining prisoners had begun to annoy him. His Death Eaters, his own followers, had come to him at least a dozen times over the past few weeks to complain about everything under the sun. From prisoners attempting to escape, to jinxes and hexes being cast even after their wands had been broken, to massive riots that resulted in deaths on both sides – they did not seem to have the prisoners under control. And Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the Master of Death, was expected to handle these ridiculous situations, as if it were his sole purpose in life to detain unruly captives. He was infuriated with the lot of them.

But he could not kill them all. No, as much as he relished in pain and misery, he did not wish to destroy the world. He merely wished to rule it, and as a ruler, one does not simply exterminate those that have defied him. A true ruler bends his subjects to his will, and that was exactly what he planned on doing. It began slowly, with his first decree saying that all prisoners be stripped of their wands. Unfortunately, many of the prisoners sought to win them back by way of thievery, and he couldn't have that. So they were snapped into pieces, every single one. The only wands left were the ones he and his Death Eaters used.

His second decree was that all prisoners would be split into separate groups, which would lessen the number of riots and attempted escapes. This was a bit more successful, but the riots and escapes continued regardless. Even without their wands, the prisoners were restless. The more powerful witches and wizards had to be under constant guard, and because many of them were proficient at wandless magic, they had to be kept unconscious at all times. This was not something that Voldemort wanted. He wished to keep the Wizarding World intact, but to do that, he had to keep as many witches and wizards as he could alive and unharmed. It was not an easy thing, restraining himself from wiping them all out. He craved a new world, a better world, in which the magical community would be rid of Muggle-borns and Muggle-lovers alike. The Muggle World was yet to be conquered, of course, but his first mission was to purify the Wizarding World. And it was proving to be a lot more difficult to do than he had imagined.

As long as Voldemort was outnumbered, he had no chance of overpowering the Wizarding World. Try as he might, he could not think of a way to dwindle down the number of prisoners without laying waste to potential soldiers; that is, until he realized that the only way to see any potential in prisoners was to back them into a corner….

"Yaxley," Voldemort said to the blonde-haired man, "inform the others that the Games are about to begin."

Yaxley gave a stiff nod and strode away silently, his long black coat billowing behind him as he exited the Great Hall.

"My Lord," said Bellatrix, the woman to Voldemort's left. He did not turn to face her, but he could feel her eyes upon him. "How many of these… Games… do you intend to create?"

Voldemort sighed. "As many as are necessary."

"And what of the mudbloods?" Her tone was icy. "What do you plan to do with them?"

"Patience, Bellatrix," he said quietly. He stroked Nagini's head once more, and a slight smile played onto his thin lips. "You should know by now that mudbloods are the least of my concerns."

Bellatrix did not say anything, but it seemed as though it was taking her a large effort to hold her tongue. Voldemort noticed this immediately.

"I don't think you understand the concept of the Games," he told her. "Instead of having to decide who to kill and who to spare, they do the work for us. Nature will always take its course."

"I understand that," muttered Bellatrix, who was now burning a large hole in the table with her wand. "What I don't understand is how we could get them to kill each other. I suppose we could make them do it, but that would defeat the purpose."

"Indeed it would."

Taking her attention away from the burning hole, Bellatrix looked over at Voldemort for the first time. Of course, he hardly ever returned her gaze, but even when she was looking at his profile, she was fascinated by how beautiful he was. His skin was like polished marble, glowing faintly beneath the flickering candles that surrounded them. She supposed it was a good thing he never looked at her; all he would see was her mat of thick black hair, her rotten teeth, and the pale shadows beneath her eyes. There was nothing beautiful about her. He, her master, was the only thing that mattered in this world.

"My Lord," she whispered, resisting the urge to put her hand upon his, "you say that you do not want to decide who to kill and who to spare… but what if I took the burden for you?"

"We've discussed this, Bellatrix," he hissed at her, making her swallow. "You are not to kill anyone unless I command it."

Bellatrix breathed deeply, but knew not to argue. "Yes, my Lord."

"If I am to rebuild the Earth, I need the strongest witches and wizards to be at my side," he continued. "And the Death Games will reveal them to me."

"But what if –"

"No more!" Voldemort yelled. Bellatrix did not move a muscle. "You are not to question me. You are not my confidante."

The knot that had been forming in Bellatrix's stomach tightened at his words. She was always afraid that she would overstep her boundaries, but her master had never cut her off so early on as he did now. She couldn't shake the feeling that his decisions were becoming more and more reckless, but she loved him so dearly that she would never think to disobey him. He was the most cunning and determined man she knew, and how dare she assume that he had not thought this through? Bellatrix felt ashamed for even considering the thought.

"Yes, my Lord," she said, and immediately after she did, the Great Hall doors swung open to reveal a mass of Death Eaters, all talking amongst themselves as they entered. Yaxley, who was leading the crowd, stood directly in front of the High Table and briefly bowed his head. His expression was sickeningly smug as he looked up at the two of them, though when his eyes settled on his master, he turned serious once more.

"What would you have us do, my Lord?"

The rest of the Death Eaters went completely quiet at his words. There were at least a hundred of them, all waiting for their master to give them their instructions. The sheep had flocked to their shepherd once more.

Bellatrix saw many looks of curiousness and confusion on her comrades' faces. None of them know, she thought suddenly. None of them know about the Games except Yaxley.

Voldemort, who had remained seated, was quite still. There was a palpable tension in the air, and what he said next made many of the Death Eaters shift where they stood.

"I would have you sit," he told Yaxley, "and watch."