Disclaimer: *insert respective disclaimer*

Revised 22 April 2012


In this world, Harry had learned, there was no law dictating whether something was just or right. There was only that; constant fear. He could spot it from a mile away in those eyes of the District people. He even saw it in Katniss's rough exterior once. And has the hours passed by, and the information he had been gathering piled, Harry began to feel the very same fear settle in him as well.

The glass-eyed boy stared at his future mentor. Honestly, he would it hard to comprehend that the drunkard had ever successfully survived through the Hunger Games. Based on the details he had exploited from Katniss, you had to be smart, tough, and quick on your feet; not tipsy and god-knows-what-else.

Also, there was the strange and ever-so reprimanding Effie Trinket. She had taken to chastising him and Katniss whenever she could about how low their chances of survival were and their poor table manners. And as much as Harry would have wanted to, he would have held back his ravenous instincts from devouring everything insight.

But really, was it their fault at all? Harry couldn't easily recall the last time he ever had a decent meal and that truly bothered him. As for Katniss, he could remember the starvation evidently sketched onto her body and understood why at least she had to eat like she did. Harry didn't and that was the part that frustrated him.

How long since he really had last eaten?

Why, hadn't he just been fed this morning, at the Great Hall?

The memories were still fresh in Harry's mind. Ron stuffing his face, the twins teasing him, Hermione quietly reading a book in the corner, and the jittery feeling in his stomach as he first laid eyes on the tormenting maze.

Unconsciously, he felt his wand in his pocket. He was fortunate of having it with him. He could use his magic to the best of his abilities and provide him a way of survival – or if he could, an escape. Because for all he knew, he didn't want to particpate in these games. And by the sound of things, neither did Katniss.

But what about Cedric and the others? What if they're part of the bloody games too? Harry groaned at this high possibility and resisted the urge to slam his head on the desk. The girl, Katniss, flashed him a strange glance. Somewhere in their shared silence, they had finally swallowed the fact that one, or none, of them would be coming out after the yearly game.

xXx

"Bloody hell?"the two foreign wizards' heads shot up. "What's happened to you?" asked Cedric. He stepped into the elevator with them and pressed the button leading up to his temporary room; Krum made the motion to slam his hand on all of the floor buttons.

"'Ave you seen Harry yet?" Fleur questioned, sulking into a corner of the tiny space they were entrapped in. Cedric shook his head, his own worries about the boy roaring in his mind. Harry was young yet qualified to be entered in the games. If he had to face him as well – Cedric refused to think of it.

Fleur nodded before burying her face into her palms. Cedric almost closed the space between them in a heartbeat if not for Krum. He put a hand out to stop him.

"Tribute?" he asked.

Cedric shrugged: "Unfortunately." His eyes wandered back to the injury on his shoulder. Vicktor saw his wavering gaze and grunted.

"Vest you don't ask." his deep voice rumbled, subconsciously rubbing the bandaging. Fleur flared at this statement as she rose back to her feet. Her eyes were fiery with hatred as she placed a delicate hand on Cedric's jacket.

"You see that? That 'iz what our mentor did to 'im!" Her hand curled into a fist, crinkling that region of the cotton fabric. "Oh Cedric! What do we do?" The rain pouring out, Fleur's fire dispersed with her composure as she crumpled into his arms.

Cedric could do nothing but keep her up in his embrace.

xXx

"Would you like to hear a joke, Ronny-kins?" George muzzled up his younger brother's hair. Ron merely scowled, not open to the idea of being his brothers' victim. He threw a pleading glance at Hermione, but she too, seemed to live in the Maze. Clinging onto the edge of her seat for dear life, she stared and waited. Ron sighed and nodded his head.

"Alright," Fred began, his head popping out from the other side. "Four people walk into a bar - "

"One is a jester-" George cut off.

"Another is a ghost."

"The third is a goblin, and the other -

is a wizard!" they both exclaimed.

Ron restrained from rolling his eyes. He mumbled something incoherent, and the twins just chuckled at it in response.

"So they go up to the bartender and he asks, 'What can I get ya fellas?'" George said, in a Western accent.

"The jester said he wanted to kill someone, and the ghost said he needed a place to haunt."

"The bartender says he can't allow either to happen and looks at the other two."

"The goblin wants to steal his money, and the wizard?" Fred looked to Ron for the answer.

Ron shrugged. "What? He wanted a wand?" he offered.

The twins shook their heads: "Of course not, Ronny-kins! That's delirious!"

"Every person knows a wizard always has a wand with them." Fred deduced.

The youngest Weasley glanced at the clock in front of them. It had been approximately fifteen minutes since the champions had entered the Maze; no sound from them has been heard since. Tapping his foot, Ron urged his brothers to finish the 'joke.'

"The wizard wanted new companions." George said without preamble.

"So the bartender says,'I'll be yer companion.' The jester kills him."

Ron's eyes widen.

"After, the ghost decided to haunt the bar;

The goblin steals the money;

And as for the wizard? He sighs and says;

'I never get anything I want.'" when the twins say this, they laughed. Ron is anything but mildly disturbed.

"Bloody hell?"

Fred shoots him a fleeting glare. "No, no, no! We're not done yet!"

"Yes! The goblin, after stealing the money, sits beside the drinking wizard and tells him he could just magic himself some new friends; so he did!" they laughed.

Ron shook his head. "That...is sick." he commented.

The twins shrugged and thought about their joke. A full minute elapsed before the realization dawned upon them.

"You're right, it is." George mumbled.

"Ah, well. It was nice talking to you, Ronny-kins!" Fred re-ruffled his hair as they left.

Ron grumbled as he repeated the so-called 'joke', in his head. There was no way that it was amusing. It was bloody, gory, and wrong! Yet, he could not stop but make comparisons with the people from the joke, and the champions.

Krum would have been the jester – Cedric the ghost. Meanwhile, Fluer would have become the goblin, whilst Harry the oblivious wizard. As for the bartender? The Triwizard Tournament Cup.

No, Ron thought. The twins couldn't have been insinuating that someone was going to die today, right? He couldn't be thinking that idea, right? Ron shut his eyes to prepare for the upcoming headache. He hated Fred and George, very much. And he didn't need any help from alcohol to realize that.

xXx

It was the night after their extravagant entrance into the Capitol, and all of them were seated around a decent sized television watching all of the Districts' reapings. So far, they had only gotten through one, and both tributes from that side seemed eager to take part in these Games. Then the next one came, and Harry could have sworn that the girl was born a murderer with that look on her face, and that the boy was insanse for volunteering; Cato what's-his-name obviously held no relationship with the previously chosen boy.

After that, the next rounds of tributes were holding less promise in providing an actual good competition. Sure there was District Four, but Haymitch had taken into informing him that they had One and Two were considered the Career Tributes - Tributes who were trained to do this thing - trained to kill and win. And so, as the scenes progressed, Harry began to question the logicialty of all this until he saw three familiar looking faces. They were here. They were a part of the Hunger Games too.

Harry had shut his mind from the world after that, and it was until he saw District Eleven's tributes did something under than worry and fear reign his body.

That girl.

Rue.

She had to be no more then ten-years-old, yet here she was about to march her way into death's hands. She was a quaint little girl, dark skin and hair. She looked fragile, and Harry quickly began to wonder if anyone was going to volunteer for her. His chest burned in anger when no one did.

And finally, it was their District. Harry was completely caught off guard as he saw Katniss volunteer in place of her sister. Flashing a quick glance at the gray-eyed girl, his respect for her instantly grew at this new information. And then his face showed, and Harry too, was surprised to see that he looked indifferent among them all. But that was just it. He, Harry James Potter, was already used to facing death. Now, it was just a matter of time before it came chasing him.

xxx

They had agreed to work together – to pose as a team. Whether it would prove that they were a threat; it didn't matter. Harry and Katniss wanted to live for as long as they could. And since nothing could be guaranteed for their survival rate in the games, they decided that having someone watch your back was as comforting as knowing they might actually make it through.

Harry stared at his clammy palms. He hadn't had contact with the wizarding world since then. And his wand? He had lost his wand; woke up without by his side. This troubled Harry the most. He needed that wand if he wanted to live.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" asked Katniss. She had been trying to warm up with him since they straightened Haymitch out. She was an awkward girl, but Harry figured that he could be worst.

"Yeah, just nervous." he admitted. This was his first time to see all of the tributes.

Katniss gave him a small smile in return. This was one of the rare times it had ever happened. "Me too." she whispered as they reached the training facility. When they entered the room, his act had fallen apart. Before him, were four pairs of equally terrified eyes.

At least one of them was going to die.