Chapter 5: Meeting the Stylists
Harry awoke the next morning confused and groggy. Everything around him was unfamiliar and strange. Instead of the whitewashed walls of his bedroom in district 7, the walls in this room were green. Instead of a pile of Dudley's hand-me-downs piled haphazardly in a basket in the corner, there was a large ornate dresser. Instead of the small, lumpy single bed that Harry was used to, he was lying on the softest mattress he could ever imagine with more room to stretch his legs than ever.
Harry rolled over and wiped the sleep from his eyes. Memories of the previous day flooded back and Harry remembered; he was on his way to the Capitol. He was a tribute in this year's Hunger Games.
Though he would rather nothing more than to go back to bed and never come out, Harry knew that this wasn't an option. His old clothes seemed to have mysteriously disappeared in the night, so Harry opened a drawer at random and selected new clothes for himself – a pair of straight black pants and a red pullover sweater.
He cleaned himself up in the bathroom and tried to fix his hair, but to no avail. Finally, as he had the morning before, he simply gave up and left his room, heading down the hallway to find the others.
Lavender, it seemed, was an early riser, as she was already sitting in at the table in the dining car, her plate filled with wonderful things. Harry took a seat across from her and chose a waffle from the platter in front of him. As he poured some syrup onto it, Hagrid and McGonagall strode through the doors and seated themselves at the table with them.
"Today, you will arrive in the Capitol," McGonagall told them. "And the real work will begin. Tonight is the tribute parade, which means that as soon as we get there, you'll be taken to the prep center where they will make you presentable to the public."
"You mean they'll dress us up in silly costumes," Lavender muttered. Hagrid laughed, but McGonagall appeared unamused.
"They will dress you in an appealing manner to the people of the Capitol," she clarified. "We may not understand Capitol fashions, but I assure you that your stylists do."
"What're you on abou'?" Hagrid asked suddenly. "None o' them Capitol folk are walkin' around dressed like trees."
"Nevertheless," McGonagall said, clearing her throat. "You must trust your stylists, they know what's best when it comes to clothes and above all, you want to make an impression tonight. We should be arriving any minute, so I suggest you finish up your breakfast," she added.
They finished their meal in silence and once they were done, Harry excused himself and went to sit by the window. They would be arriving at the Capitol soon, and as much as Harry despised them for making him participate in the Games, he was eager to see his governing city in all its glory.
"Hey, Harry," Hagrid said quietly, sitting down next to him. "I jus' wanted ter check in with yeh. How're yeh doin' with all this?"
If it had been McGonagall asking, Harry would've lied. He would've said he was fine and just focused on winning. But somehow, Hagrid felt safer, more familiar, almost like he could be a friend.
"Not great," Harry admitted. "I don't know if I can kill these people."
"I know jus' how you feel," Hagrid said. "I couldn' kill anyone either. Them mutts were after me, an' I felt bad 'cuz everyone always runs from 'em, so I started pettin' 'im instead. All of a sudden, they were chasin' down all the others and I was the on'y one left."
"You mean you didn't kill anybody?" Harry asked, meeting Hagrid's gaze.
"Nope," Hagrid replied. "If it'd come down to that, I couldn't've."
"What do you think my chances are of making it out without killing anyone?" Harry asked hopefully.
Hagrid sighed and glanced out the window before turning back to look Harry straight in the eye. "Not that good," he replied heavily. "But tha' don't mean it's impossible."
Just as Harry was about to reply, the windows all went dark.
"We're almos' there," Hagrid said, standing up. "The Capitol's jus' on the other side o' this tunnel."
Harry stood too and walked closer to the window to get a better look. When the train finally emerged from the tunnel, Harry was blinded for a moment by the intensity of the sun's rays reflected off the huge lake separating them from the Capitol. The city was still in the distance, but Harry was already overwhelmed by the tall structures making up the skyline of the Capitol.
As the train circled round the lake and approached the city, the buildings became closer and closer and Harry realized that they were even taller than he'd originally thought. By the time they pulled into the station, they were looming over them in all their splendor and wonder.
Once the train had reached a full stop, Gilderoy poked his head into the dining car to tell them the doors were opening and they should follow him. When nobody moved to follow him, Harry decided to just go first. As he disembarked, he felt like he was going to go deaf from the amount of noise surrounding him. Capitol citizens were everywhere, straining to catch a glimpse of district 7's tributes.
Remembering that his priority should be to get sponsors, Harry plastered a smile on his face and nodded to the people he passed as Gilderoy carved a path for him to follow. In the distance, a little girl sat on her father's shoulders, waving frantically at Harry, and forgetting for a moment that he was basically on death row, Harry found himself smiling for real and waving back, sending the girl into a fit of euphoria.
They arrived at the doors to the building that Gilderoy called the 'Prep Center' and as soon as everyone had passed through, the doors shut behind them, blocking out all the noise of outside and leaving them all in silence. Harry didn't have a chance to comment though, because suddenly a couple of people dressed all in white had grabbed him by the shoulders and were dragging him down the hallway and shoving him into a room.
Panicking for a moment, Harry banged on the door, crying out for someone to help him, that he was trapped. Remembering what McGonagall had said on the train, he realized that this must be the room where he would meet with his stylist – be made presentable for the tribute parade. Looking around at the room, Harry's assumptions were confirmed. There was a large chair in the middle of the room with all sorts of strange looking tools surrounding it. There was a shower stall in the corner and mirrors covering every available surface.
The door opened suddenly and Harry stumbled back, startled. Three women walked in – some of the strangest looking women he'd ever seen. He knew Capitol people dressed differently – Gilderoy Lockhart for example, had hair that was dyed purple, usually covered in glitter and piercings all over his face with lavender jewels in them. He wore all purple clothes with a sweeping purple cape, and even his eyes had been surgically altered to be purple.
These women however, were far more outlandish than that. The first woman, who introduced herself as Angelina, had dark skin that seemed to glitter all over. It was like there were little pieces of gold glitter embedded into her skin. Her hair was gold as well and it stood in three spikes so tall that she'd had to bend over to get into the room. Her fingernails were short but covered in gold glitter and her clothes were sequined so that they too sparkled.
The second woman introduced herself as Alicia. Her skin was striped like a zebra's – in white and black streaks. Her black hair was in a braid straight down her back, hanging all the way to her hips. Her eyes were a striking yellow and there was a silver ring in her nose.
The third woman was named Katie. She was less eccentric-looking than the other two, but still alarming to Harry. Her hair was hot pink, and it hung straight, about halfway down her chest. She wore large hoops on her ears and a short, ruffled pink dress with pink and white striped tights.
"Is one of you my stylist?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.
"No dear," Angelina replied. "We're your prep team. We're here to make your body ready for your stylist. Shall we start?"
"I guess…" Harry said, unsure. This was all the women needed though, because suddenly they had swarmed all around him and were poking and prodding him all over. Alicia instructed him to remove his clothes and get in the shower, which made Harry uncomfortable at first, but once he'd done it, he didn't feel uncomfortable at all. His prep team wasn't judging his body – they were analyzing it like a lumberjack would a tree he was about to chop down.
After he'd been scrubbed raw, the prep team led Harry to the chair in the middle of the room and forced him down into it. Angelina started working on his hair while Alicia began rubbing some sort of cream into his skin and Katie went to work on his nails. Eventually, Harry lost count of how many different things they'd done to his body, but he knew they were finished when they all put down their tools and filed out of the room.
Left alone in the room, Harry stood to look at himself in the mirror. Somehow, Angelina had managed to tame his hair so that it sat against his head nicely rather than sticking out at odd angles. His teeth were even whiter than usual, and the stubble that had started to grow on his chin had been shaved away completely. His nails were covered in some sort of green glitter, and looking closer, he could also detect some of the glitter in his hair. His body was smoother than it had ever felt, and it tingled all over.
Feeling exposed, Harry looked around for his clothes, but it seemed that during his prep session, they'd disappeared. He found a robe hanging on a hook by the shower though, so he pulled it on just as the door opened again and an older woman entered.
This woman didn't look at all like the style-crazed people of the Capitol. She had grey hair neatly trimmed to frame her face and she wore all black clothes. Her only striking feature was her nose, which had been surgically altered to resemble a bird's beak.
"Harry Potter," she said. It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded anyway. "My name is Peoria Malkin, or Madam Malkin, if you prefer," she continued. "I will be your stylist."
"Er – it's nice to meet you," Harry said, holding out his hand. She stared at it for a moment and then, feeling awkward holding it out, Harry dropped it.
"Tonight is the tribute parade, yes?" Madam Malkin said. "And what is the tribute parade?"
"The opening ceremony of the Games, so-to-speak," Harry replied. "And a chance for sponsors to get their first looks at us in person."
"No," Madam Malkin chastised him. "The tribute parade is a time for the stylists to showcase their work. You are my mannequin, my dress-up doll, and you will look fabulous."
Harry wasn't entirely sure that he liked Peoria Malkin, but he didn't dare question her.
"In past years, my tributes have been dressed as trees, as lumberjacks, even one year they were axes. But tonight, I have come up with a new vision," Madam Malkin said enthusiastically. "Tonight, you will not be the pillars of strength that the tributes of district 7 have been in the past. Tonight you will showcase something even more precious; the delicacy and simplistic grace of a single leaf."
Harry didn't really know what to say about that. Delicacy and simplicity and grace weren't necessarily the image he thought he was going for, but McGonagall had said to trust the stylist.
"Are you ready to see your costume?" Madam Malkin asked excitedly.
"Sure," Harry replied hesitantly.
Madam Malkin walked over to a closet that Harry hadn't seen before and opened it up to reveal a bag hanging on a hanger with a zipper down the front. She pulled the zipper down and pulled out what looked like a pile of green material.
Trusting his stylist, Harry climbed into it, with Madam Malkin's help, and then stood in front of the mirror while she fixed it and put the finishing touches on his hair and makeup. Harry thought he looked ridiculous. He was basically wearing a green body suit with a bunch of stiff green material sticking out the sides in the shape of a leaf. His head stuck out of the costume, the tip of the leaf behind it and the stem stuck out on his right side.
"Perfect," Madam Malkin said, her eyes shining in the light of her work. Harry grimaced.