Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. I also don't own Harry Potter or any of his world, again, I'm just borrowing it from JK Rowling.

Rights and Wrongs

AN: I know, I'm sorry. Last attempt at a cross-over.

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Madge waits outside the plain, boxy building where Gale's class on advanced portkey development is held. He'll be out any minute now and he promised he'd come with her to the rally to support the non-magical and magic-less born individuals in Britain.

It had been only a few years before, when Madge had first read about the famed 'boy who lived' and his claims that Voldemort had returned, that she'd predicted the darkness creeping in on the horizon.

"They're infringing on the rights of squibs and muggleborns already, Gale," she'd told him after the dismantling of the Department of Magic-less Born Individuals.

He hadn't been convinced, but then, he'd hadn't lived with the end results of blood supremacy, what a group of hate-filled people with covered faces and a sense of entitlement could do. Madge had.

Her mother and her mother's twin sister had been born squibs, not that that had mattered much to their father. Herschel Donner was one of the most famous candy makers in the Thirteen Magical Districts of the United States, his daughters ability to perform magic was irrelevant to him and Madge's grandmother. Candy making, even magical candy making, was something even a squib could do.

It did matter to some though.

When they'd been children walking home with their mother after attending a muggle school-the District Twelve School of Magic was out of the question for them-they'd been attacked by a group of hooded witches and wizards, tortured for no other reason than that they were a disgrace to magic.

Madge's mother, Matilda, had survived, but her twin sister, Maysilee, and their mother hadn't. Maysilee had died in the middle of a dirt road, broken and bloody as her little sister cried over her. Their mother had survived long enough to send up a distress signal, call up their neighbors to help.

It was a defining moment in Matilda's life, something she could never get over. Her mind is still rattled and muddled by the torture, the sight of her sister dying in her arms and her mother fighting to defend them.

Not even Madge's father, with his money and potions, healers from around the world, could erase the damage done by the wicked. Her mother would always be a little broken, wake crying and screaming in the night, for the rest of her life.

It's the future Madge had sensed inching towards them those few years ago, the future that had slowly become an unpleasant present.

President Snow and Vice-President Coin and the Congressmen that supported them had eroded away at the rights of those born without magic, something most magical individuals didn't care about. It didn't affect them, why should they care if squibs lost their magical department and with it their main representation in the magical community?

"They're basically muggles anyway," was the sentiment shared by most, and it made Madge's blood boil.

"They aren't muggles," she constantly found herself telling people. "They've grown up in the magical world. Some of the greatest magical historians were squibs. They are some of the best envoys we have to non-magical born world."

It baffled her how they couldn't see all the contributions, however discreet, that squibs made to the magical community.

Then there was when full-bloods calling the children of squibs 'half-borns'.

"I'm just as magical as everyone else," Madge had defended herself when Chesney Shumard had been shocked as just how well Madge wielded her wand back in elementary school.

"But your mother isn't," Chesney had pointed out. "Do they have to get you a specially made wand?"

Katniss had knocked Chesney down for that, pushed her into the minnow pond on the playground and stirring up hundreds of frogs and earning her detention for 'muggle dueling' even though she hadn't thrown a single punch.

Sighing, Madge stretches her legs out on the steps and pushes the thoughts of her mother and everyone else's assumptions about her away. She's a good witch, a top student, it doesn't matter if Madge's wand, white ash with hairs from a winged palomino, is nothing more than a useless stick in her mother's hands. In Madge's it works wonders.

Twirling her wand between her fingers, she conjures up a small blue bird and listens to it tweet as she closes her eyes, pretending she's back home on her back porch.

Something drops onto her head, startling her out of her trance and causing her bird to vanish with a soft swish.

Reaching onto her head, she finds a crown of flowers, small and white with red centers. Hawthornes.

Turning, she spots Gale standing at the top of the step, bag slung over his shoulder and his wand out, a small smile on his lips.

He takes the steps several at a time, easy with his long legs, until he's down at Madge's level.

With another flick of his wand the flower crown dissolves in Madge's fingers, each little blossom reappearing in Madge's hair. She rolls her eyes. "Thanks."

"What? I think suits you," he wraps his arms around her waist and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Still worried about the rally?"

Madge nods. Despite the support on campus for the plight of muggleborns and squibs, and everyone in between, the rally and all the media attention it will garner will help not only those suffering under the increasingly twisted government, which many suspect has been infiltrated, in Britain, it will draw attention to the mismanagement and downright discrimination going on in their own country.

Maybe, she hopes, it will encourage more people to listen to Senator Paylor and her vision for a better future for the country. One that doesn't include shunting those without magic and their offspring to the dark corners of society.

Gale presses another kiss to her hair, lets the flowers evaporate into a sweet smelling perfume around them, then takes her hand, giving her a tug in the direction of the rally.

"Did you guys figure out how to get that portkey and time-turner to function as a unit yet?" Madge asks, more to get her mind off the rally than because she actually understands what it is that the engineering department is working on.

A scowl forms on Gale's face. "No, and Thresh ended up stuck in a wall in the Alamo. We still haven't figured out how that happened." He grins. "But when we were reading through the notes we acquired from The Triangle, we found out they accidently had someone vanish and turn up in northern Saskatchewan a week later. At least Thresh was still in the country and he appeared almost instantaneously. I call that progress."

Madge laughs, wraps herself a little more tightly around Gale's arm as the sun begins to set in the distance, painting the desert horizon in pinks and oranges. The knot in her stomach loosens thinking about poor Thresh being pulled out of a wall at a national landmark.

If Gale and his friends could conquer mass magical travel, then surely the magical community could overcome prejudice, restore the rights of people like her mother, and provide support, however distant, to the downtrodden across the ocean.

She hopes so.