I

When Harry woke up, the other side of the bed was cold. He sat up, seeking his parent's warmth (whilst hitting his head on the low ceiling, as it was, after all, a cupboard under the stairs) but only finding the rough mattress and coarse, cold sheets, because he remembered that his parents had been murdered fifteen years before.

A sinking feeling arose in his stomach, twisting and clenching his gut. Harry struggled with this emotion for a few moments, unable to understand where it was coming from, but then he remembered. Today was the day of the reaping.

A loud rapping jolted him from his thoughts. He swallowed his fears and put on a confident voice. 'Come in, Aunt Petunia!'

Aunt Petunia came in. Harry had a particularly close relationship with her, for she was the sister of his late mother, Lily. She was a kindly woman, her long bony face (which was quite similar in shape to a horse) always stretched into a smile. She tiptoes in, before sitting on his bed.

'Is everything okay, Aunt Petunia?' Harry asked.

Petunia looked away, shaking her head. 'No, Harrywinkles,' she said. (Harry suppressed a cringe; he had been trying for years to get his aunt to change his nickname) 'You see, me and your uncle are just desperately worried for you and Dudders on this particular day.

Harry smiled consolingly. 'Aunt Petunia, its fine. I've made sure that Dudley hasn't had to have any extra slips in the reaping with my magic. Like any magical child in a muggle family would do.'

'But- what if Dudley gets picked? You know he's a muggle. The rules aren't fair on my Dudders, you know that.' Petunia trembled.

'I know.' Harry looked at his aunt, genuine sadness coursing through him. 'Auntie, I can't imagine it happening, though. I promise it'll be okay. He's gone through a few reapings now, and he's not been picked. It's out of thousands. Don't worry yourself too much.'

Frown lines appeared between her eyebrows. 'But- but what about you, Harry dear? You've put your name down far more times I care to count.'

Harry shook his head, as if he could clear his fears and worries that simply. 'Oh, don't worry about me. I'll be okay.'

Petunia smiled weakly; even though she couldn't quite believe him, the least she could do was support him. Like family should.

If Lily and James Potter had not been killed tragically in the Hunger Games of 2002, they might have been there to help Petunia, Vernon, Dudley and Harry. But, as misfortune would have it, they were both picked when they were eighteen, the last reaping they were expected to attend. They were both murdered in the arena, leaving their one year old son, Harry James Potter, in the care of Lily's sister, Petunia, and her husband, Vernon Dursley.

Although the Dursley's also had a one year old son, this did not stop Harry from being any less loved; on the contrary, Petunia and Vernon loved Harry like they loved their very own, Dudley. The children grew up together, and were closer than brothers. As they grew older, they lost their intimacy, creating room for new friends, but the pair were often still inseparable. However, there was always a barrier, always something special about Harry that made him different to the Dursley's, and the reason for this: Harry Potter was a wizard. Not that this changed much, though.

Petunia pushed away the thought uneasily. She smoothed down Harry's hair, which had been mussed by sleep. 'Are you going to meet Ginny today?'

At the mention of Ginny, his heart began to race. The thought of being able to take his mind off all this reaping business by being with his best friend made him happy. He nodded. 'Yeah, I told her we'd hang out today. In fact,' Harry checked his watch hastily, 'I should get going now.'

'Okay sweetheart.' Petunia attempted a smile, and left the room, leaving Harry alone again to get changed. He would meet Ginny in the woods, where they spent all of their time together.

Ginny was a tall, striking girl, with fiery ginger hair and a matching personality. She came from an equally unprivileged family, with five younger brothers whom she cared for dearly, and protected them as well as she could. But she was powerless against the law. Her brother, Fred, had already died three years previously in the 72nd Hunger Games. Now, at eighteen, this was her last year of legibility, but her name was in the bowl so many times, Harry did not want to estimate her probability.

'Harry!'

He blinked, and there she was, standing a few metres away. He grinned, his pace quickening.

'Hey, Harry, look what I got!' Ginny grinned as they met, holding up a small white paper bag. She put her hand inside and produced two chocolate frogs.

Harrys eyes widened in surprise. 'Ginny, wow!' Chocolate frogs were a delicacy, so naturally, only eaten by the richer folk in town. 'How did you get this?'

'Ollivander. Didn't even cost me anything. Even wished me luck. He says hi to you, too.'

Gratitude flowed through him as he clutched the chocolate. 'I'll save it till after the reaping. My family and yours, we'll have a feast.'

The pair sat down on the grass, looking out to the open space. Harry looked out, he liked to see the sea, and beyond that, the faint outline of another city, another place. He didn't know where, though.

Sadness wracked him like a physical pain. The Ministry of Magic ruled England, divided them up into districts and forbade them to venture out beyond those; as the penalty was death, no one ever disobeyed the Ministry. Harry longed to go to other places, he missed places he'd never been before, and he longed for them like they were distant memories. Memories of what used to be.

'We could do it, you know.' Ginny said quietly. She wasn't looking at Harry, but into the distance.

Harry blinked. 'What?'

Ginny shrugged. 'Leave. Leave this place; we could do it, you and me. We-'

'-you have brothers to look after.' Harry interjected hastily. 'And I have Dudley.'

'It was purely hypothetical.' She replied, a hint of venom in her voice.

'Why bother even imagining? It's not like it could ever happen. We're prisoners to the Ministry.' Harry said, picking the edges of the bread loaf. Crumbs fell into his lap.

'I know.' Ginny snapped. 'Look, just forget I said anything.

Harry did not respond to this; instead, he stood up, stowing his wand into his pocket. 'I've got to get going. My aunt will be worried.'

Ginny nodded, averting his gaze. 'See you.'

'Bye.' He replied shortly, before turning to walk away.

'-oh, Harry?' he turned, to see Ginny standing, wand under one arm, the remains of the loaf under the other. A wry smile played on her lips. 'Wear something nice.'

At home, Harry found his aunt, uncle and cousin ready to leave. They were dressed up in their best clothes: Dudley's in his too- small- suit, the shirt rising up slightly every time he moved, Aunt Petunia in her floral summer dress, Uncle Vernon's tie knotted too tight at the neck. They all smiled encouragingly at Harry.

He went straight upstairs to take a shower, scrubbing the grime from the woods off of him. Afterwards, he even combed his hair, although he knew that it would become messy very soon, as his hair simply couldn't be tamed. He put on his best suit, and decided that he was ready to go.

Approaching the square was a strenuous activity. At one o'clock, they left the house, and walked a five minute journey. The atmosphere was thick with tension, anger, and sorrow. No one wore a smile, or anything vaguely distinguishable as cheerful. A Ministry banner hung around the town statue of Newt Scamander, concealing his face. Harry's fists clenched; the only positive thing in the town, and it was hidden in ugly logos.

People filed in silently, holding hands of loved ones. After the entrance, the children were herded in to separate areas, and then separated again by ages, towards the front. Fortunately, Harry and Dudley were both sixteen, so they stayed together.

The space becomes more oppressive, more confining, until the mayor, Albus Dumbledore, arrived, sitting on one of the three chairs. Following suit, District 12's escort, Rita Skeeter appeared, her mouth stretched wide in a grisly red smile, her pale hair teased into corkscrew curls. After an uncomfortable silence, Rubeus Hagrid entered, staggering slightly, and sat down on the last chair.

Just as the clock struck two, the mayor stepped onto the podium and began to read. It was the same as he'd always read, every year. He spoke the history of England, the country that rose up from the ashes from a war torn country after the battle of Brexit. He mentioned the disasters, the droughts, Donald Trump, the fires, the storms, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was a new England, with the Ministry ringed by thirteen districts.

But then the wars prospered the uprising of the thirteen districts against the Ministry. Twelve defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The new laws came into order, giving new laws to guarantee peace, which was named the Hunger Games.

In punishment for the uprising, the twelve districts of England, as penance, were commanded to provide two children to participate in the Games. The twenty- four of them were imprisoned in an arena, and over a period of several weeks, the competitors had to fight to the death, and the last tribute standing would be the winner.

The Hunger Games were treated as a festivity, a celebration, an event to turn each district against the other. The winning district would be showered with gifts of food whilst the losing districts would be left to battle the usual starvation.

The mayor read the list of victors. Harry allowed himself a smile at this point, catching Dudley's eye, for the reason that they had won the Hunger Games once. Enter Rubeus Hagrid, a rotund, tall man who spent his life drinking and breeding animals.

Mayor Dumbledore, quick to divert the attention off Hagrid, announced Rita Skeeter, who sauntered onto the podium, and dug her hand into the huge bowl with everyone's names in. Harry closed his eyes, he felt sick, he so desperately wished for his safety, Ginny's safety, Dudley's, his own, he wished frantically that it wasn't him, it wasn't him, it wasn't Harry-

And it wasn't Harry.

It was Dudley.

Hi there, thanks for reading! I'm trying to update as much as possible, I really like this idea, if you do too please, please review/ favourite/ follow it, anything- it would make my day! :) -pxlblack xx