Hello readers! This is a Harry Potter-Hunger Games crossover fic. I'm trying to stay as true as possible to both stories - setting myself a challenge, or at least do them both justice. This story takes the characters of Harry Potter and puts them in the setting of Hunger Games, hopefully in an entertaining way. I'm hoping to replicate the story telling technique of Suzanne Collins, so first person, but the point of view will change between characters a little.
Hope you enjoy;
Disclaimer; This story is for entertainment purposes only; the characters, settings and concepts are not my own but taken from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling and The Hunger Games series by Suzanne Collins, I thank them for allwoing us to use their property.
PROLOGUE
That hated old woman was smiling like this would be a treat - 'hem hem' she cleared her throat, the bright pink bow wobbling dangerously on her short curled hair. She still looked like a wrinkled old toad. Dressed head to foot in ridiculous gaudy pink wool.
"To remind you all of the sacrifice you made to fight our Lord each year a boy and girl between the ages of 11 and 17 will be selected as tributes, for the honor of fighting to the death in the annual hunger games!" She reminded them deliberately, slowly. Delighted.
I remember the first games - it wasn't what we thought. That final battle o the grounds of Hogwarts was all Voldemort needed to become the true owner of the elder wand and the master of death. He bound us all, took us away, chained us, beat us. He killed or enslaved all the Muggles in England and set up his very own country - Panem, he called it.
We were split into groups, whoever were left, enough to create a settlement and made to settle within large fences - they were called districts, numbered 1 to 12 and guarded by death eaters at all times.
There were twelve districts, Voldemort told each what he wanted from them and supposedly gave them the supplies to do it and now they have their daily quota, to keep Voldemort and the worthy purebloods fed and happy.
District 12, where I had ended up, mined coal; without magic. Coal to power the great steam factories in the other district that produced food, potions, wands, weapons and robes. Coal that powered the nation they said, coal to run the machines that filmed the Hunger Games for all to see.
Now, it was 22 years after the war, everyone in this poor, starving district had been made to gather in the square for the reaping, Delores Umbridge stood on a stage next to Malfoy - the mayor of the district - two large glass balls with hundreds of slips with the names of every child in the district between the ages of 11 and 17 were in there, boys and girls, the boys and girls themselves lined up in year groups in the center of the square, the young and the old watching over them nervously. I refolded the piece of parchment in my hand again and again, terrified, because this would be the first year both my kids had their name in.
Umbridge smiled again and dug her pudgy fingers into the girls bowl, scraping around for a slip of paper. She pulled it out, licked her lips and smiled, then read, "Lily Potter."
I felt sick at the relief that washed through me before I felt disgusted with myself then just as panicked - my little niece, only 11 years old - but the feeling only lasted for a moment, until an all too familliar voice called; "I volunteer as tribute!"
"Rosie," I heard Harry mutter, someone grabbed me before I could even register that I'd tried to fight my way to my little girl. Hugo had tried to run up on stage and was caught by James, pulling him back into line before the death eaters had a chance to get there.
"No, no, no, no Rosie," I begged, pleaded, my daughter stood on the stage next to that old toad of a woman looking terrified and white as a sheet, only a baby - she was only 14.
"Rosie," Umbridge said, echoing my plea, a crule smile on her face "A volunteer, very brave, very fitting of a Weasley." She muttered. Rose looked between Umbridge and me.
"Lily's too little," Rose said thickly, "my baby cousin."
"Rose Weasley, isn't it?" Umbridge asked her.
"Rose Weasley." She muttered. Umbridge smiled, "Well Rose you should be honored, this district has never had a volunteer before."
Rose nodded.
I felt like I was watching from far away, something pretend or I was asleep and this was a horrible nightmare as Umbridge moved to the next reaping ball, she dug her pudgy fist about in the glass for a moment before drawing another name.
"Hem-hem," She cleared her throat, clearly enjoying the anxiety of everyone in District twelve. "Scorpius Malfoy." She finally said.
My heart sank as the seventeen year old blonde went to the stage, looking shaken but strong; even if our district had a victor - could it be Rosie when she was still so little, besides it was well known these games were not fair - muggleborns died first. I feared my Rose didn't stand a chance.
It was not a coincidence that Lily was reaped as soon as she was old enough for it, it was not a coincidence that her competitor was going to be the 17 year old Malfoy boy, the Malfoy's still had something to prove after all - Voldemort was crule, he had won and he was never ever going to let us forget it. He didn't count on my daughter jumping in to save her cousin.
"Happy Hunger Games!" Umbridge cried, delighted, "and may the odds be ever in your favour!"
We were shuffled along, in one heartbeat I woke from the shock of having my daughter reaped and in the next heartbeat I had an armful of my baby boy.
"Hugo," I whispered, being guided towards the justice building by death eaters.
"We have to say goodbye, Daddy." He told me.
Harry and Ginny caught up to me and Hugo, James, Albus and Lily looking close to tears.
"I'm sorry Uncle Ron!" She finally wailed, hiding her face in Ginny's long hair. I shook my head, putting a hand on the back of her head in what I hoped was a comforting manner but words were still beyond me at this point. We climbed the stairs to the justice building and were led inside; the halls were grand and lavish, a far cry from the seam - the place were the half bloods and muggleborns lived. The carpets were a rich red and the white stone was rough but clean, where in the rest of the district nothing was white from the coal dust.
I was lead to a door, Harry and Ginny hung back, and he carried Hugo to see his daugheter.
Rose had always been slight, her hair bushy like her mothers had been but the same deep red as his own, her hazel eyes large and now wide with fear. Her clothes hung off her - dress robes which had been Hermiones, worn only for the reapings now, were too big on her starved frame. Life in 12 was not a good one.
"You brave, brave little girl," was all I could manage, dropping to my knees and pulling her towards me, Hugo wedged between us. She was crying shaking her head.
"Not Lily, shes only a baby, she's Hugo's age - it was her first reaping Dad she only had one slip!" Ron didn't know what to say, what could he say? He didn't want to tell her she'd done the right thing becasue she hadn't. Rose's life was no less valuable than Lily's, she was too kind.
"You were brave," Ron said, "And you're kind and you're as brilliant as your mother was, Rose if anyone can do this it's you, I know you can." I told her, overcome with the need to know that there was still a little hope. "Come back." I begged her, becasue I couldn't lose her.
"I'll try dad." She said, Hugo was clinging to her, and I jnew I had to stay strong for her. If this was my last moment with my daughter I wanted it to be as happy for her as I could.
"I love you Rosie," He said and she nodded, giving him another hug.
"Love you too Rosie!" Hugo insisted, then the door opened and the Potters came in.
Harry had always been small, but since the end of the war he never ate much and hardly slept, he looked much older than he was, Ginny had lost everything about her that he loved most about his sister, her fight, her strength and her fun, though most people now were only shells of themselves.
Their kids, born to this world, fared better - still dangerously thin and on the small side James was at least taller than Harry, his glasses had been taped in the middle since he was a little boy he had Ginny's blue eyes and Harry's dark hair, though it usually sat flat. Albus looked very simmilar to his big brother, but for his green eyes and unruly hair, and Lily was the picture of her namesake, her hair was not weasly red, but the orange of Lily Potter, her eyes green like his, only the smattering of freckles across her nose was any indication her mother was a Weasley.
"Rosie!" Lily said, running for the older girl, they were as close as sisters, and my heart ached as Rose scooped up the younger girl and tried to soothe her.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Lily said and Rose tried to calm her, tell her it was not her fault. Ginny took Lily, and gave Rose a kiss on the cheek and her luck, Harry held my daughters shoulders and told her that he owed her his daughters life, and she would make it back, becasue good people won, sometimes.
I didn't know what to make of that, good or bad had nothing to do with the games - it was luck or strength and showmanship. Rose was smart, as smart as Hermione.
I stayed in the room as some of Rosie's friends came to see her, and then the tiem was up, I got one last kiss and cuddle and then the death eaters marched my daughter to the train. The next time I would see her she'd be paraded through the capitol.
A note on dates and ages.
So, in cannon, James is two years older than Albus, who is two years older than Lily. Albus, Scorpius and Rose are the same age and Lily and Hugo are the same age. 22 years after the final battle we are in 2020, Harry and Ron are both 40 years old. Albus and Rose are their 'cannon' age at this point.
In this story I've changed the age gap a little, Scorpius is the biggest divergence. Hugo and Lily are 11, Albus and Rose are 14, James is 16 and Scorpius 17. I have reasons for this and justifications for this, which I will explain in later chapters, as well as having a look at their past and how we went from Hogwarts to Panem.
Thank-you all for reading.