I do not own Harry Potter or the Hunger Games
When I wrote this chapter out I just couldn't keep it in the third person. I kept reverting back to first and finally decided that the first person carried the scene much better. I'm not sure I'll keep it this way though. Let me know if you find any spots where I messed up the Pov, and also your thoughts on the switch itself.
For what must have been the hundredth time, I pushed myself up off the couch in fright. Images of the nightmares I'd just escaped kept flashing before my eyes. I took a few deep breaths, then relaxed my hands enough to unravel my fingers from the holey sheets.
When I put my head in my hands, I could see it all again. I'd been sitting in the living room with a sick feeling in my stomach, watching someone get murdered on the screen when I realized that person on the screen was Neville, and the murderer was Ron. My best friend's hair was streaked with dirt and grime, and when the camera zoomed in, I didn't recognize the look in my friend's eyes. My little brother, poor Neville, was completely clean and perfect, no sign of death at all except the lack of color in his cheeks.
In the crowded walls of our home, I was alone except for Ginny and the bloody body of Luna. Ginny was sitting on one side, while poor Luna looked as if she'd been torn open by wolves. Ginny's smile was wider than should have been possible and her eyes were not blinking. A moist red ring went around her mouth.
She pounced and pushed me backward into the TV. The world shifted and I found myself in the woods. The Tarry Point was just a few yards away. My father was convulsing on the ground, a spear in his chest. James's eyes were wide, unfocused, and completely colorless. The sight had shocked me awake.
Now, my head was throbbing. I left the room and peeked into the bedroom for a quick panic check of the house to make sure everyone was alive. In the bedroom, James had Neville and Luna curled up with him. They must have crawled in when they, too, had had nightmares. The peaceful sight calmed my nerves.
The month had flown by, and today was the day of the reapings. No one into work, no one to school. I wished Ron was up now, so I could talk with my friend, but it looked like I was going to be fighting my nerves in the dark of the morning, all alone, and on an empty stomach.
In the kitchen, I heated up a small bit of water and added some things we'd gotten from the woods after the last of the snow had finally melted. I turned the TV, the only piece of electronic anything in the house, on to distract myself.
Rudolf Hess, the infamous announcer, and host of the Hunger Games was talking with Tom Riddle, one of the Gamemakers. Riddle wore a smile as he talked about opening details for the Hunger Games. One by one, everyone wandered into the kitchen for breakfast, woken by the murmurings from the TV and the tremors of electricity.
Breakfast was quiet. There wasn't much other way to describe it. Just quiet. Neville wore a white shirt we had kept hidden in between two holey blankets to keep clean. Dad once said it had been his. I put a braid in Luna's blonde hair. I knew how from making ropes.
At noon, the town gathered in the square. We found Ron in the bakery, spectating from the shop. It was filled with other people, but James and Luna squeezed through into the backrooms, where it was less crowded, but they could still see the courtyard. I took Neville's hand and led him into the courtyard.
Peacekeepers and cameras were everywhere. Harry led Neville to stand with the other twelve-year-old boy's and left to stand with the eighteens. The glass reaping bowls were brought out. We stood for what felt like ages, I took a breath and dug my nails into my hands until a lady with red hair and orangish skin stepped onto the platform. Bellatrix Lestrange, her name did her justice.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome and good morning to all. Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favor." The words roll off her tongue like she's been saying them for five years, which she has. "Now, before we begin, we have a very special video brought to you all the way from the Capitol." She says with cheer in her tone.
The movie is the same one we have seen every year for all our lives. About how the districts rebelled, and the Capitol won. That's how the Hunger Games were created. For us, it's just a kick to our pride about the mistakes our ancestors made, but Bellatrix is in tears by the end of it.
"I just love that." She says, wiping her eyes. "Now, the time has come to select one courageous young man and woman for the honor of representing District 12 in the 74th annual Hunger Games. As usual, ladies first." She flashes a blinding smile. Her teeth have been stained to match her hair. Bright red. She looks like Ginny from my dream.
She strides over to the bowl, her heels clicking on the rough wood. She reaches down and pulls a piece of parchment out. My stomach turns as the girls all shiver. She reads it and calls out "Lavender Brown."
I watch with hollow eyes as she stares around in shock for a few seconds, then moves to the aisle. Peacekeepers surround her and escort her up to the stage. Bellatrix stays only to seize Lavender by the shoulders and plant a kiss on both her cheeks, leaving bright red lipstick stains behind. She then strides to the boy's bowl and takes a slip of paper as Lavender stands beside the Mayor and Rubeus Hagrid, who is half-conscious and fully drunk.
Bellatrix fumbles with the paper for a few seconds then tears it a little in frustration, finally, she pries the edges open, and a tremor moves through the boys. She clears her throat and then speaks, very clearly into the microphone.
"Neville Fleamont Potter!" She says. The accent is strong, and she fumbles with the middle name. I breathe a sigh of relief and then realize the name. My mind fades into a state of panic as the crowd parts a little. A boy with dark hair breaks away from the crowd with trembling shoulders. The white shirt is stained with sweat and dust.
I immediately start to push my way through the crowd. Boys stare in shock as I fight my way to the center, raise my arm up high, and screams "I volunteer!" Peacekeepers that were previously surrounding Neville turn and stare at me confusedly. The system is rusty; there hasn't been a volunteer in years. I raise my voice and my arm a little higher. "I volunteer as Tribute!"
Neville doesn't say a word, only stares open-mouthed as I walk forward. When we get close enough I launch a hand out and plant it on his shoulder.
"Run."
"Harry – "
"Run."
"Harry, I'm sorry!"
"Go. Go get Dad. Don't look back. I'll be fine, now go!"
Neville's eyes are brimming with tears. "I put my name in extra." He whispers. I stare my younger brother down. Neville looks away. "I'm sorry, Harry." He says. A peacekeeper nudges me forward, and I release his arm.
"Go," I say.
I don't see him again. Peacekeepers surround me, march me up to the stage. Thousands of eyes are alight on me, but I don't meet any. When they nudge me up on stage, I take a quick glance at Bellatrix's face. She looks delighted. She pulls me up to the center.
"What's your name dearie?" She asks in a high pitch. I flinch at the tone and then whisper: "Harry Potter." Bellatrix blinks. "Middle name?" She asks. "James," I reply.
Bellatrix announces my name and then plants her hands on my shoulders and swoops up to kiss both my cheeks. She gets one, but I pull out and away from the other. She looks at me like I insulted her family line or something, then appears to forgive me in a heartbeat. Lavender, the mayor, and Rubeus all move up to stand with us. Bellatrix takes one of my hands and one of Lavender's and lifts them up into the air. No one moves to clap, no one even takes a breath. We stand there for several long, awkward seconds, and then Bellatrix releases our hands and scowls lightly at the crowd. I don't know what she expected. No one in twelve has ever clapped that I can remember.
A screen reflects back at us what people in the capitol and other districts are seeing. Next to Bellatrix, in her blinding clothes and endless masks of makeup, we look plain and dirty. The lipstick stains our cheeks red, like someone scratched us. Lavender has one kiss mark under her eye, and it makes her look like she's bleeding from it. I scowl and scrub at my cheek vigorously. The mark blends, but doesn't go away. My hand comes away red.
I think that's when everything went numb for a while. There were colors and lights and questions, most of which were from Bellatrix. Several people with sunken eyes stare at me, and I recognize a few as people who come in the evenings to ask for food. I look away. The mayor hands me a handkerchief and I scrub at my cheek to remove the last of the red. Lavender starts bawling, and then somehow, we manage to get off the stage in one piece. Rubeus trips going down and lands flat on his face. He picks himself up though and wanders off in the direction of the train.
They put me in a room in the justice building, where the mayor works when he's not working from home. I sit, tapping my fingers and waiting, and the feeling gradually bleeds back into my body.
Ron is the first to come see me. For a few moments, we sit and stare at each other. Then I say: "Please, don't let them starve." Ron nods. "Of course. You know I won't." He smirks, but it's with a haunted look. "Give them hell, and come home soon."
Ron nods and smiles a little. He holds out something, a pastry. From the looks of it, a tart. "Mom calls them treacle tarts." He mumbles. I smile at the gift. We talk for a few more minutes, pass back ideas and plans, but when peacekeepers open the door to haul Ron out, he's already standing there, waiting. He saunters out all on his own, and the last I see of him is a backward glance and a salute.
Luna comes in before Neville, and sits down and leans on me for a few minutes while she cries. She doesn't say much, she never has. I try to murmur promises to her. How I'll be back within a few weeks, and she'll never have to be hungry again. We'll live in one of the Capitol built houses on the hill, and eat real food. She'll have hobbies, and she'll have her own purpose.
If I have to become a murderer for her to feel comfortable with herself, I will.
Neville's face is streaked with tears, his cheeks so red it looks like Bellatrix has taken whatever obnoxious color she uses on her lips and streaked it all over his face.
He stands in the doorway for a few moments as it closes, sniffling. Once the door clicks shut, I open my arms. Neville doesn't hesitate as he rockets over and buries his face in my nice shirt. I wrap my arms around him as he sobs.
"I-I took out the tesserae when you told me no, and I'm sorry but I just wanted to help and – "
I shush him before I quietly whisper: "It's not your fault. It's not your fault." Gradually, Neville's sobs fade, though he shakes every few seconds. Finally, he looks up with a tear-stained face and whispers softly: "You have to win Harry. I'll never forgive myself if you don't."
I go down to eye-level on my knees and then say in the sturdiest voice I have: "I will." It sounds more powerful than anything I've ever said before, and he blinks in the ferocity of my tone.
The door clicks open, and I look up to see two peacekeepers storm the room. They seize his shoulders roughly, and I glare.
"Hey!" I bark. "Be gentle with him!" The two roll their eyes and haul him out, his toes brushing the ground, silent tears leaking off his cheeks.
My father is the last person they allow to see me before the train leaves. We're on a time crunch, and need to be delivered into the outstretched claws of the Capitol. We don't say a single word, except goodbye. I think he knows I've already hammered out the details of their survival with Ron, and he'll just have to accept that fact and be filled in later. He cares for me, my father, but doesn't know how to work with my independent attitude and outstanding rebellious streak.
When he leaves, the peacekeepers drag me out with him. They keep firm hand on my shoulders and march me out through the crowds to the train. They shove me on without comment, and when the door closes, I know it closes for good.