Dudley Dursley was standing a little too close for the comfort of Harry Potter, who despite the looming threat of the reaping, hadn't forgotten the numerous times Dudley had taken advantage of their proximity to hurt Harry in some way. As if he wasn't already nervous enough!
He looked up at the faces of the equally nervous boys around his age and surreptitiously wiped his damp palms on Dudley's old jeans, because while there was a very slim chance that one of them would be reaped (after all it was only their first year, so none of their names had been entered too many times), if they were chosen it would mean certain death. For a child in district 12 was about as likely to win the hunger games, as the Capitol was to abolish them. [read: unlikely]
The thing was, Harry was almost certain he would be picked. Maybe not this year, maybe not the next, but at the rate the Dursleys had him signing up for tesserae he just knew he wouldn't make it to adulthood. This year (the first he had been entered in) he was signed for 6, one for each of the Dursleys and himself on top of his automatic entry. Which meant he was in considerably more danger than say Dudley, his fat oaf of a cousin, who 'just couldn't be signed up, not poor diddums' and thus only had his name entered once.
So he was exerting considerable effort trying to maintain the stoic mask which had been his best friend during life at the Dursleys while his heart beat an erratic rhythm to the tune of 'not me not me not me can't be me'.
Rita Skeeter the sweetheart of district 12 was currently pulling out a girl's name and relishing in the cameras focused on her rather terrifying visage;
"Katie Bell"
Her amplified voice rang across the crowds as the children collectively strained to see this year's victim. Harry didn't know her personally but as the shell-shocked girl managed to stumble up onto the stage he recognized her as one of the teens who often messed around on the verge when the boys played kick around during school.
After introductions had been made and the girl managed to look suitably fierce, more so than someone from district 12 had in a long time at any rate, Rita turned to the boy's names, ignoring the drunk Minerva tottering around the stage.
Looking around Harry reminded himself again that he was sure to be safe this year at least. So his name was in six times? - that was nothing compared to some of the older kids, it wasn't uncommon for the poorer families to take out around 20 by the time the kids got to old for the reaping. It wouldn't be him, not him, never him. Harry forced himself to breathe normally. Just breathe - don't choke - breathe.
And so when Rita's nasal, eerily delighted voice echoed round those gathered Harry wasn't too surprised when his name wasn't the one called out.
"Ronald Weasley!"
He did choke though.