I'm reuploading this after reading it and finding it horrendous. As a writer of any sort, you learn that everything is perfect until you upload it. This natural phenomenon cannot be avoided, and no matter how many times you read it before uploading, you will always find something wrong the second it's online.
The dark house where they lived was in desperate need of a new coat of mud and it needed a new door to keep the drafts out. Harry's feet ached as he lugged his feet inside. The moment the door had shut tight with a thud, he was ripping off his shoes with gritted teeth. He heard a loud rip, and frantically searched the fabric. When he saw the damage, he scowled. The seam between the shoe sole and the fabric had ripped and he could see the worn bits where he had worn them for two years now. He rubbed his stiff feet and pulled the other off. There wasn't a rip, and he sighed in relief.
The house was cold, and the wind blew in from invisible holes in the wall. It seriously needed to be patched, but the ground was frozen solid and there was no way he could get mud with it this cold. He walked into the kitchen and started a fire using a few small bits from their extensive winter stash. The only thing they had of surplus in this house. He took a big pot from where he'd set it last night and walked outside to fill it up with the white crystals that had been falling on his face as he walked home.
After the snow was melting steadily above the crackling fire, he moved his snow boots in front of it so the snow would melt and evaporate. He cleaned the rest of the turkey and cut it up to be stewed. He considered adding a little bit of Greasy Sae's stew to it so that her spices would mix a little with his, but then fished in the cupboard to find the small jar of Hickory Salt he had boiled down back in the fall. Back then they'd had so much salt they didn't know what they would do with it, but now the stock was nearly depleted. He'd used a lot of it to try and preserve some of the things he shot.
The front door opened as he was adding the salt to the water-and-slush mixture that was quickly forming in the pot. He heard the footsteps that were much softer than his own, and then put the salt on a block of wood. "Harry?" He heard a boy called from the hallway. "Where are you?!"
"Kitchen!" He called back. He heard thumps from the next room and then Neville and Luna appeared in the door, breathless, their cheeks red from the cold. "Hello, Harry!" Neville said cheerily. His dark hair flat against her head. "Did ya get anything good today?" Harry shook his head quietly but tried to smile at the two. "No, not today. But maybe tomorrow."
Luna gnawed on her cheek, which was losing the cold color quickly in the fire-warmed room. "You said that yesterday. She said in a high voice. Her eyes seemed to stare at a point behind Harry. He sighed. "Yeah, I know." He swallowed and tried to think of something good to tell them. "I got a turkey. And Ron gave us some rolls."
Neville nodded distractedly. "That's nice of him." Harry swallowed at the blatant reminder he had, in fact, taken some charity, and watched his younger brother. The last of the slush disappeared from the pot, and Harry went to make sure the meat wasn't drying out before his brother spoke. "My teacher announced that the Hunger Games will be starting back up next month." He swallowed visibly. "My teacher said that those of us who are twelve will have to put our names in at least once."
He tried to think of something to say. "Yeah, you will. It'll be okay though. They won't pick you. It's one in about a thousand other kids." He heard Luna shift her weight on the floor and Neville said quietly "Yeah, and your name will be in thirty-five times." There was a long silence as I stared at him. "Neville," he said quietly. "Don't think that. I'll be fine. You'll be fine." Harry knelt down so he was on eye-to-eye level with his brother. "I promise."
Neville shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Do you think I should sign up for tesserae?"
Harry felt his muscles all tense and Neville's eyes widened at the look that passed his face. "No." He said with fierceness. "Don't you dare try it, Neville. Absolutely not."
"Well, why not?" Neville asked. "This is your last year. You'll only be allowed to bring home food for this year. Next year I'll have to do it so Luna doesn't have to!" The floor suddenly creaked as Luna hopped off her chair. She left the room on soft, bare feet. Harry stared at the sores on her ankles from her too-small-shoes. Her socks, he knew, practically disintegrated last December. She was in desperate need of shoes, and he could not provide.
"Neville, listen. I don't want you to take out tesserae. I want you to stay safe. The odds are one in a thousand other kids, even if you are one in a million." Neville nodded quietly and then looked to the door Luna disappeared through. "I think I hurt Luna."
Harry nodded quietly. "Go talk to her, please? I have to watch this." He eyed the pot, which was beginning to simmer. Neville nodded but stayed where he is. "Erm, Harry? I hate to say this, but Luna really needs some new shoes. Or socks, at the very least. Her feet are all cut up." Harry sighed and nodded. "I know. I need to figure something out."
"You would have a little more to trade if I take out some tesserae."
Harry glared in his direction sternly, and Neville's shoulders fell. "Just a thought." He mumbled as he turned and left. Harry held his gaze until Neville left the room and then let his shoulders fall. Even if he did let Neville take out tesserae, it still wouldn't be enough. Neville was fooling himself. They would just be a little more secure from the brink of starvation. That was it. He picked up the turkey and put it in the pot. He wished he had flour or cornstarch to thicken it. Or vegetables to give it flavor…
He stared at the remnants of the turkey. Feathers and guts. He picked up one of the feathers and studied it. Long, pretty. He could stuff them in a pillow or…
Or he could trade them.
He detached them each from the skin gently, picking the big, long, sturdy ones. The small fluffy ones he would keep, stuff those into a pillow or something. He lined them up parallel and ties the ends to keep them from tangling.
The water in the pot was turning brown when he heard the door open for the last time. "Hallo?" A voice called from the hall. "Dad!" Someone called from somewhere in the house. Harry stirred the bottom of the pot to make sure nothing was sticking and then moved toward the door. He ducked into the hallway and saw his dad hugging Luna and Neville to his chest. He stepped forward.
James Potter had a sort of light in his eyes and a charisma that was hard to match. Even then, covered from head to toe is coal dust and as exhausted as he's ever been, he still made the small, shabby house warmer.
Harry stretched his hand forward and shook his dad's hand with a smile. "Was there anything good today?" Harry asked quietly. Dad's smiles dropped off his face and shook his head. "Just a few chunks of nothing. I'm sorry, son." Harry dropped his eyes at his father's apology. A small reminder that he was the one who was actually in charge of the house and how money and other income was used. He nodded and glanced at Luna's feet sadly. She tried to pull her pants down to hide them, but the pants were too small too. "I got a turkey in there. Better check on him." He turned and ducked back under the door into the small room. After checking the stew, he filled three bowls and gave them to Dad, Luna, and Neville. Through a broken pane window, he saw a number of people outside in the bitter storm, Small children, miners, and young mothers, all holding bowls and hoping for a small bit of food. He moved quickly and let them in.
He filled bowl after bowl for the poor people, and when everyone who came had gone, he scraped the last bit of broth and meat out and put it in a bowl. He saw lights slowly flicker out in shops in town and decided he'd have to try dinner later. In a minuscule living room with only a couch collapsing in on itself, a TV only turned on during mandatory showings, and a thin rug, Neville, and Luna sat playing chess against their father.
"Dad, can I borrow your boots? I need to make a quick trip to town." He asked, trying to summon up the strength to act like he had a brilliant idea. God, he was an awful actor. His father looked up and nodded. "Don't freeze to death out there though. Come home soon." Harry nodded and went to the front door. He pulled on his father's larger boots and sighed in relief at the lack of tightness on his sore feet.
The feathers tucked up in his pocket, he hurried out into the cold. The lights in town were fading quickly, but he made it to Sarah McKinley's house before she turned out her lights. He knocked a little louder than usual, though. Sarah opened the door, flipping her light hair around her shoulder and balancing her son on her hip. "Harry." She said lightly by way of greeting. "What brings you here."
"Mrs. McKinley, sorry to bother you, I was wondering if you would be willing to trade for some feathers? My sister Luna, she desperately needs some socks or something. Her feet…" He trailed off, sure that Sarah already knew the story all too well. "Well, actually I could use some feathers here and there. What kind of quality are they?" Harry pulled the bundle out of his pocket. There were a good fifty or sixty long feathers in the bundle and he saw Sarah's eyes light up a little.
"Well, I have a number of socks in here. How many are in that bundle?" Harry shrugged. "I haven't counted. I wanted to make sure I could get here in time." She nodded and then opened the door a little wider. "Come in." He nodded his thanks and stepped past the threshold. The house was warm and smelled light of dust and fire. He saw bits of cloths and handkerchiefs here and there where she had stuffed them into cracks by windows and the door. In neat baskets in a small room next to him, she had stacked yarns, cloths, and small things like handkerchiefs and socks. She untied the bundle and put the baby down a safe distance from the fire and her things. She counted out the bundle and looked at him. "Why don't you take two pairs of socks. One for your brother and one for your sister."
Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected her to be so generous. She nodded toward one of the baskets. "Make sure to get some thick ones." She said and picked up the baby. After only a second, Harry skirted toward the basket and quickly felt for two thick pairs of socks. "Thank you so much, Sarah."
"You're welcome. If you get any more feathers like that, you should bring them over. I'll always be in the market for them.
He nodded. "I'll remember that. Thanks again." He reached for the door handle and she waved a little as the baby put his thumb in his mouth. He opened the door carefully and slipped out. The snow was falling thicker now. He put the socks in his pocket quickly and set off for home as quick as possible. His stomach growled, reminding him that dinner was waiting on the table at home for him.
He tripped only once outside of the apothecary shop, where Mrs. Everdeen and her two daughters lived. But he quickly regained his balance and romped home. When he pushed the door open and shut it hard behind him, he heard his dad say "I was beginning to wonder where you were."
Harry nodded, out of breath, and said: "The snow is crazy out there."
James nodded. "What were you doing anyway?" Harry turned his gaze to his dad and reached into his pockets and pulled out the two pairs of white socks. "For Neville and Luna." He said. His dad whistled. "What did those cost you?" "Bunch of turkey feathers," Harry replied. He pulled off the boots and placed them by the door. He put the socks inside Neville and Luna's boots and wiped his forehead.
"Hate to tell you, but I really need to go to sleep." He muttered. James nodded. "Neville and Luna are already asleep. I was waiting on you." Harry nodded, then said, "Well, goodnight."
His dad stared for a second, then shook his head. You're working too hard son." But he turned and went into the only other room the house held. A bedroom meant for one that currently held three. Harry rubbed his eyes and turned to the lumpy, flee-ridden couch where he'd slept for the past 3 years.
He fell onto the couch, completely forgetting about the stew he'd left in the kitchen, and fell asleep.