A/N: Hello again, thanks for the reviews they make my day and thank you for continuing the story.
As always a thank you o Tarry for correcting my spelling/grammar !
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Harry Potter, that belongs to the genius JK Rowling. Also I don't own The Hunger Games, that's Suzanne Collins' idea.
Chapter 4
Just after Ioli had taken her seat, the members of the Council appeared. While the others sat on specially arranged seats, the new Head, a surprisingly young man with a beard and luxurious blood-red robes, got to the large stage, pointed his wand to his throat and started to speak.
-Good evening to everyone, he began in a deep voice, we are gathered here tonight to honor a most ancient institution. The time has come for the 685th time, to choose thirty courageous young people who will give us a bright example of the wit, the resourcefulness and the strength every witch and wizard should struggle everyday to achieve. As modern gladiators they shall be thrown into an Arena to survive on their own, facing every day and every night formidable danger coming not only from the Arena and their fellow Tributes, but also from their own nature. Judges will be monitoring every battle they give, every plan they execute, but in the end only one will reach them, standing alone in front of them to claim what is rightfully theirs. The glory.
While the speech went on, Harry couldn't help but notice that no mention of the origins of the Hunger Games had been given what so ever. The Head was currently reminiscing his own Reaping and the way he had jumped onto the stage when his name had been called, and all Harry was thinking was that either a lot of things had charged since that Reaping, or the man was lying through his teeth: no one seemed to be in a fit enough state to jump right now...
He glanced at Hermione and to his surprise she wasn't paying attention to the speaker, too busy wiping the tears from her eyes and giving him terrified looks. Ron next to her was holding her hand, face his characteristic green colour.
-The moment I faced the judges, the Head was saying in the meantime, is the best moment of my life. It is the moment that symbolized I had become a man. And now it is my turn as the new Head of Spiritus Academy to be the one to welcome you to this new phase of life. I am glad to see so many young witches and wizards ready to seize the greatest opportunity of their lifes. Your presence here proves you are willing to take a place in society among the other victors, known to the whole wizarding world for their wisdom, cleverness and kindness.
Kindness? Harry questioned in his head, where is the kindness in slaughter of children? However, nobody appeared to disagree with this statement. Or perhaps no one could concentrate on both listening and preventing themselves from vomiting.
-So, exclaimed the Head, let the Reaping begin. In those two tanks the names of thousands of teenagers from around the world have been entered. Only 30 of them will be announced. If you hear your name, please step on the stage quickly. Whoever fails to do so, will suffer the consequences of violating a magical oath. Thank you. Ladies first.
He started calling names. Girl after girl stepped on the stage, others looking scared and others looking scared to death. All of them made efforts to appear simply solemn, but no luck. The stiffness of their limbs and the half-smile made them look like they were having a stroke. And then:
-Riddle Ioli, called the Head.
Ioli remained still for a split second and then climbed onto the stage as elegantly as always, her face expressionless, not letting a single emotion pass through. She stood apart from the rest of the other girls sending them haughty looks. She was definitely one of the youngest of the girl Tributes, but she was quite tall too.
Harry at the moment made the oddest thought. With no real reason he had been sure that Ioli would be picked today, ever since she had mentioned her participation. And for some reason he believed Ioli knew too. It was hilarious in a sick sort of way to watch the other girls about to faint in their flamboyant dresses and her being alarmingly impassive dressed in almost black.
-It is time now to choose our male Tributes, continued the Head, a little louder than before, in an effort to stop the endless chatter Ioli's appearance had caused in the front rows of the Tributes to be. These were probably Academy students who knew exactly who she was.
Again boys of various ages were called, behaving not particularly cooler than the girls. More than half of the male Tributes had already been chosen, when the Head called:
-Potter Harry.
Feeling the air solidify in his lungs, Harry gasped almost audibly. Hermione and Ron groaned even louder. The next moment he found himself staring at the other children from on the stage. A few more names were called, and then it was over. They were told to stay in a room near the stage, while the rest were dismissed. Some of the children looked rather miserable that their names hadn't been called, crying with visible sobs into their hands. He tried to find Ron and Hermione, but it was impossible. He spotted a chair in the corner of the tiny waiting room ignoring his fellow Tributes who were eager to meet him and collapsed on it. He had just closed his eyes and was about to bury his face in his hands, when a steel grip seized his shoulder. He opened his eyes only to find himself facing a smirking Ioli.
-Since when do heroes break down and whine, hero ? she asked sarcastically.
-I'm not breaking down, he answered automatically.
-Oh, of course not, you were just annoyed by the noise these baboons are making. Sorry my bad. None the less it would be wiser if you focused on real problems. For instance your upcoming battle to the death, she deadpanned.
-Thanks for the interest Ioli. It's touching, but it would be more believable if you wouldn't be trying to kill me in a few days, you know. So please , leave me alone, he said unable to colour his voice with any kind of emotion.
-To walk to your death? You do have a huge hero complex, Savior. And I doubt that any trainer you are assigned will be able to understand that.
-None of your damn business, Harry cut her, now aggravated .
-Language! I would be glad to explain to you all of my reasons I think it is my business, but in private. Come tonight at the West Wing Ward and we can talk there. 8 o'clock. Sharp.
And with those words she strode to the door, opened it and left without waiting for permission. Soon after that, women dressed in orange outfits came inside to escort them to their new rooms and inform them about their program and other details of the coming days. Apparently in the next 3 days they would train at various weapons and physical combat plus lessons on survivor skills. At the end of the training they would have gathered points from their everyday training along with the extra, private sessions in front of the Council. This score was announced publicly so the Tributes would have a clear idea of the competition.
During all this time their every move would be supervised by a trainer. This person could be anyone who knew the rules of the Games. That also meant that Tributes who were already students of the Academy had a huge advantage, since the teachers- the most common and helpful trainers- knew them. But these Tributes had a huge advantage anyway...
A/N:Please let me know what you think.