DISTRICT TWO – MILITARY
Bellatrix Lestrange was sitting in her dark little house, combing through her long black curls. Looking into the rather grand but slightly dirty mirror, she pinned various bits of ratty hair back into an elegant do. She practiced her the smile she would use if she were chosen, her thin lips slowly pulling into a grin over yellow teeth. She practiced holding herself correctly for the camera. Her whole life she'd been waiting for an opportunity to go to the arena. Now, at the age of fifteen, she wished harder still. Girls her age always focused on being the prettiest, the most popular, but Bellatrix, although neither ugly nor unpopular, only focused on the Games. Pretty and popular came with them anyway, plus the added bonus of the fun in the arena. To Bellatrix, this sounded like Christmas. Her black eyes gleamed at the thought of it. She tucked her wand into her long black lace dress that had been her great grandmothers and made her way down rickety stairs, holding onto the knarled black banistar. Her parents were stood in the hallway, sallow looking and ghost-like. They did not smile at their daughter. They only looked sad. Did they raise her wrong? They wondered. What kind of a girl wants to go to the arena and kill others? Was it their fault? A sadistic streak ran through her, for sure, but whether it had stemmed from their hostility and rejection toward her, they did not know.
Coming out of their front door, they walked into the gloomy alleyway. The Lestranges lived in a dull and murky corner of the city in District Two, in a grand old house that did not belong in the street of slums it was placed, among the crooked homes of the widowed military wives and poor families. However, the magnificent old house was a façade, crumbling a the edges. Although the house of Lestrange acted wealthy, their lace was yellow with age and their diamonds were fake.
The family paused for a moment outside of their door. As they did so, their nextdoor neighbour joined them. A young, short boy who remarkably resembled a rat, with thin brown hair and small nose, came to stand with them. No one called him by his first name, which was Peter, he was known to the residents of Two as 'Wormtail.' At seventeen, he lived on his own, having lost both parents to an explosion in the Nut, the central military base, an impenetrable and inescapable hill at the edge of the district, which strongly resembled an ant's nest. The neighbourhood considered him a bit strange, and generally kept away from him. He only ever spoke to Bellatrix. She treated him like the dirt under her shoe, but he did her bidding, and apparently seemed grateful to have someone communicate with him, so she kept him around. As the clouds gathered, they all walked on, along the grey paved streets towards the centre of the town and into the square.
As they reached the square, the group separated into their appropriate positions around the dull, lifeless area. The clock on the justice building rung accordingly, and the anthem played. The residents turned to the stage.
A short, toad like woman walked forward. She was dressed all in pink, and her chin disappeared into her fat little neck, which was surrounded by a large pink duffle. On her chest was a broche of a cat, on her head was a wildly extravagant capitol style fascinator with pink butterflies and a tiny kitten in the crown of her hair. She looked thoroughly unpleasant.
"Good morning, boys and girls. I am Dolores Umbridge, I shall be escort for District 2 and also mentor, due to a lack of volunteers. I hope you are looking forward to the events that will follow in the next few months. The Games are, a truly prestigious thing to be involved in, if you are picked. If you are not, there's always next year" Her voice was sickeningly high-pitched. It made Bellatrix's skin crawl like listening to nails on a blackboard. She wrinkled her nose. If she got picked, having this incompetent toad as her mentor had better worth it.
"Now, ladies first. " Umbridge smiled, crossing to a large fish bowl on the left side of the stage. Dipping her hand in for a second, she drew out a small piece of paper, and unfolded it.
"Bellatrix Lestrange" She called out. Bellatrix froze. She could not believe her luck. She looked up, a cold smile brewing on her lips, and made her way to the stage, confidence in her stride. Umbridge greeted her quickly and moved over to the next bowl.
"Now, gentlemen. Your tribute is…" She dipped her hand into the other bowl, and drew out another slip. "Peter Pettingrew" Bellatrix winced. She was indifferent to his partaking, but she would feel a little guilty about having to kill him. She waved those feelings off. She had to be victor. Looking into the crowd, she saw Wormtail's startled face among the other boys his age. His shirt was messy and un tucked, his trousers scuffed the ground where they needed to be taken up. They certainly looked pleased to see him go, but I suppose it's good to get rid of the town crazy. Wormtail stepped slowly towards the stage, looking dazed. Bellatrix couldn't tell if he was in shock, or whether that's how he always looked. They were forced to shake hands, and then were sheparded off into the justice buildings, chased by the cheers and claps of the crowd.