Hi guys, just to say that due to this story being written and uploaded chapter by chapter, sometimes details change as I get new ideas for character backgrounds or plots. In this chapter is a prime example: the appearance of one of the characters has changed slightly, but it's hopefully nothing too mind-boggling. I have gone back in the story and edited it to fit this new description. Hope you guys are enjoying the story so far, thanks so much for reading and feel free to post a review or send me a message.

Chapter 11 – The Interviews

In the cold, silent room, all James could hear was the sound of his own breathing. He could not remember how long he had been there for, but it felt like an eternity. He had woken to find himself there after the failed attempt to get back into Hogwarts on a broomstick. The walls of room the Peacekeepers had deposited him were all mirrors, so all James could see was himself, but he guessed that from the other side the walls were windows. An old filament bulb hung from the ceiling on a dirty white cable, the room's one source of light. A wooden chair sat in the centre of the room, fixed to the ground, and on that chair sat James. He was not fixed to it; he didn't need to be, for he had nowhere to go and no means of escaping. Beside the chair was a dirty mattress which James slept on whenever the bulb went out at night. When he woke up, a bowl of lumpy, flavourless porridge would always have appeared on his wooden chair and the empty bowl from the day before would always have vanished. James had no idea how it happened; every night, he would try to stay up to solve the mystery, but he never did. It was the most exciting part of his daily routine and he looked forward to it while sitting in his chair or walking aimlessly around his room. After a couple of days, he had begun talking to his chair and his mattress and had many an interesting conversation with them, such as if there is an afterlife and if life has a purpose. Before he quite went insane though, the Peacekeepers intervened.

James woke as normal on his dirty mattress to find his breakfast on his chair, and then spent his day walking around doing nothing as usual, but in the evening, his routine of nothing was disrupted very unexpectedly. James was sitting in his chair, when a clear tube dropped from the ceiling, encasing him like a bug. He rose and began to bang against his cylindrical prison, aware that his efforts were in vain. He called out too; also useless. Just then, the mirrored wall in front of him began to open up, a panel in the middle sliding to the side. In the gap in the wall stood none other than Martius Cronin, head Peacemaker, holding his helmet by his side and smiling cruelly. His helmet was upside down and seemed to be full of something a pale yellow colour. Popcorn. James was lost for words. He had been left here to rot, and all of a sudden the man who had subjected him to brutal, merciless punishment turned up for a visit with a helmet full of popcorn? Surely this was a symptom of his insanity and diet of lumpy porridge.

'Hello, James,' spoke Martius. Perhaps he was not an illusion, but then why was he there? 'Are you excited? I know I am!'

If this was humour, James wasn't finding it funny. 'About what?' asked James quietly, 'have you come to get your fill of sadistic pleasure?'

Cronin ignored him. 'I brought some popcorn, I hope you like it. I can't wait for it, can you?' As he said this, the panel in the wall slid back into place. He held out the popcorn, as if offering it to James. James did not move; he was not about to give Cronin the pleasure of getting under his skin. Just then, the entire wall in front of them changed from a mirror to a screen displaying the seal of the Capitol. The anthem of Panem filled the room, Cronin humming along to it as it played. James stared at him, still very confused as to just what he was playing at. The anthem ended, only to be replaced with the sound of a brass band and a booming voice, welcoming the master of ceremonies, Caesar Flickerman. A man in a midnight blue suit and lime green wig walked on to a large colourful stage, waving to the audience as they offered up their cheers and screams.

'Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to this, the eve of the seventy-first Hunger Games! Tonight, as is customary on this night, we shall meet the twenty-four tributes as we learn their skills and talents, as well as see a marvellous display of the Capitol's finest fashion. Are you excited?!' The audience roared, Caesar cackled. 'First, from District One,' he began, 'she's got the look of a princess, but does she have the skills of a warrior? Give it up for Angora!'

'Isn't that a kind of wool?' James asked in shock.

'District One never fails to give their kids wild names,' Cronin responded. "There was a victor from One called Cashmere not that long ago. Sometimes I wonder how they can be one of the most successful, richest districts yet be such a bunch of self-loving, obnoxious little twits.'

Angora walked on stage in a baby blue gown with a rhinestone-studded bodice and a layered floor-length skirt, her curled golden blonde hair falling over her shoulders. She smiled happily, waving to the audience, and greeted Caesar with a kiss on each cheek. She talked about how her beauty didn't mean she wasn't dangerous, and that she would play with pickaxes from the diamond mines as a girl, even if she would always have to clean them first. She told the audience of her talent with all weapons, yet said that pickaxes would always have a very special place in her heart. After her came Dynamo, wearing a black suit with bright yellow lapels shaped like lightning bolts, who spoke about his skilled swordsmanship, while constantly twitching his head to move his fringe out of his eyes.

'It might help if he's able to see out of both eyes,' James remarked. 'Maybe his token is a hair clip.'

'Be silent, boy,' commanded Cronin. 'I want to see this one.' Dynamo had finished, and Caesar was beginning to introduce the next tribute.

'Now,' Caesar said quietly, 'this next tribute is currently the bookkeepers' favourite to win, so let's see if she's all they say she is. From District Two, Olida!'

The crowd applauded, and in she walked in a slim fitting emerald green dress with a Queen Ann neckline and Mandarin collar. Her sleek dark hair was in a bun right on top of her head and dark green eyeshadow encased her emerald eyes in a smoky fashion. She looked like an oriental empress, with a glint and half-smile that made her look like she had already won.

'My, my, my!' Caesar cried. 'Don't you look like a warrior queen tonight? Doesn't she, folks?!' He gave out a hearty laugh as the audience cheered. Most of them had already put their money on Olida to win, so nothing rested on her interview. However, it seemed that her biggest fan was not a resident of the Capitol, but Cronin, who was nodding and applauding at every point that Olida made. She talked about how anyone can fight, but being a warrior is an art, and her wishes for throwing stars in the Games instead of 'boring old knives'.

'Someone will be taking note of that,' James said.

'Silence!' ordered Cronin.

'Why is it that you care so much to hear her much more than anyone before?' snapped James. 'You're acting like you're a teenage girl and she's your idol.'

Cronin gave a quiet laugh. 'I want her to win, and what she says tonight has a great impact on the sponsors. I'm just making sure she's saying all she needs to.'

'But why her?'

'Well, you know where Peacekeepers are from, don't you?'

'Mars, perhaps?'

'You should be grateful for that tube, for if it wasn't there I would have broken your jaw. And no, the correct answer was Two. And, of course, Olida is from there as well.'

'But I bet you don't care as much for the boy from Two, do you?'

'Well, he's not as good as her.'

James paused for a moment. 'Do you know her?'

Cronin began laughing. Not quietly, but loudly and uncontrollably. 'Oh, Potter. I suppose I should explain. Yes, I know her. I know her very well. I saw her the last time I was in Two, but it was while I was in Seven that she was reaped.'

'But you knew she was going to volunteer, right?'

Cronin was clearly trying to decide whether or not to deny the existence of Career tributes to James, but he came to the conclusion that there was no point lying. It wasn't as if James was going to go telling tales to Snow – especially not while he was locked up here. 'Yes, I did. So I said my goodbyes to her then, and promised I'd do what I could to help her.'

'Eww, are you in love?'

'First McGonagall, now you. No, I am not a paedophile. You see, I do love her, but I am not in love with her, as such. I want her to win, and I know more than anyone that she can win. She is not just my friend or acquaintance, no. She is my daughter, and she will be victorious.'

James was taken aback, completely lost for words. Never in a thousand years could he have guessed, yet now it seemed so obvious. His dark hair, his venomous smile; of course he and Olida were related. But James soon realised this was much more than just a fun fact; if Cronin really did care about Olida that much, he would be prepared to do all he could to stop anyone else from winning.

Olida left Caesar's side, and on came Marcus in a maroon suit and burnt orange shirt with the buttons undone down to the middle, showing off a considerable amount of skin. Boasting about his archery skills, it was clear in the way he held himself that he loved himself much more than any adoring fan from District 2 ever could.

'Well, would you look at that?' laughed James, 'it seems that self-loving, obnoxious twits aren't exclusively from One after all!' Cronin said nothing; he just stuffed his face with a handful of popcorn and crunched loudly.

After Marcus, there was Hayley, whose attempt at looking cute and sweet didn't hide how angry she was at the Capitol for all they had done. Even the way she looked at Caesar was as if she was about to pull a dagger out of her short, fairy-like lavender dress and stick it in his face. She thanked the Capitol for this wonderful opportunity to get killed, and said that it wasn't as if living was that good anyway. She left the stage, and on came Cole in a teal suit and cerise shirt with an eyelet collar. He looked terrified, as if he was about to be sick. Caesar welcomed him kindly with small talk, but they soon entered the topic of weapons.

'So, Cole,' began Caesar, 'do you have any specialities that may help you in the games?'

'Well,' forced out Cole, 'I have been practising a lot with kama, and I've got quite good.'

Caesar quietly laughed. 'I hate to show my ignorance, but you'll have to tell me what these 'kama' are?'

'They're like sickles,' Cole described with accompanying hand actions, 'used for farming, but pretty lethal. They are quite unheard of compared to spears and swords, but I find them the easiest to use.'

'It's certainly very unique, but I must ask, how did you, a boy from the technology district of Panem, become so acquainted with a tool used in agriculture?'

Cole was evidently trying to think of what to say, but he decided to say the truth. 'I made some allies in training,' he declared, 'and they taught me all about them.'

Caesar smiled widely. 'These allies…from Eleven?'

'Nine, actually.' Cole was obviously uncomfortable disclosing this information. 'Nanuk and Natalie, from Nine.'

The audience was full of gasps. Cronin shook so violently with laugher, his popcorn was in danger of spilling. 'Something the matter?' enquired James.

Cronin took a while to calm down. 'Well, first of all, Cole isn't reportedly the most sociable person around. In fact, I've heard he gave your sister a speech on why there was no hope for any of them. Secondly, he's allied himself with a blind girl and a guy who acts like he's joined to her hip. For sure, Nanuk got a score of 10 for 12 in training, so he's good. He's just a bit of a weirdo, like the rest of them I suppose.'

James didn't rise to it. He just kept watching the screen as Kristen from District Four appeared. She was dressed in a salmon pink mermaid dress with a matching bow on the waist. Her dark brown hair was in a side bun and she gave out a big smile. Caesar didn't take long to start with the questions.

'We've already seen a whole host of characters tonight,' he remarked. 'Are you feeling worried?'

'Not really, no,' replied Kristen, still smiling. 'They are all very lethal with their weapons, but I have something they lack.'

'That being?'

'Intelligence.'

The crowd laughed. 'Well you certainly have confidence if anything! Isn't that right, folks?' Caesar turned to the crowd, who applauded.

'Why, thank you. But yes, I doubt any other tribute is as good as me when it comes to forming battle strategies and setting traps.'

'Well, I tell you, they'll be watching out now. But dear, you can't always win with brains alone. Do you have brawn?'

'Certainly! I've been fishing all my life, I know my way around a spear.'

'Well you're certainly one to look out for this year!'

Cronin sighed. 'I bet she isn't half as good as she says she is.'

On came Eric after her, and something didn't seem quite right. For a Career tribute, he wasn't flaunting his talents or making himself known as fierce. He just acted awkwardly, giving simple answers to Caesar's questions. His spiked black hair and his fitting navy suit with an aqua shirt did not match this at all, as if he was actually a little girl trapped in a killer's body.

After the two from 5 came Etta from 6, wearing an orange cocktail dress with a silver band around the middle, making her resemble a traffic cone. Etta was thick-built and strong looking, but this didn't change how very attractive she looked. Her dark blonde hair was wavy and unbraided, falling simply yet stunningly down her round, smiling face. Her smile was not huge and slightly scary like Angora's or Kristen's, but pleasant and slight; she could well have been a Career tribute if it had not been for that.

'You're drooling,' spotted Cronin.

James jolted upright. 'What? No, I'm not, what are you talking about?'

Cronin shook his head. 'Don't you have a girlfriend, Potter?'

'Nope,' James replied. 'Most of the girls I know are related to me.'

'Like Rose?'

James turned his head. 'What about her?'

'You're related?'

'Yes.'

'Cousins?'

'Yes.'

'Do you know where she is?'

'I was hoping you would tell me.'

'Don't lie to me.'

'I'm not lying.'

'Where is she?'

'Haven't a clue. Why, what's she done?'

'Disappeared, that's what she's done. And McGonagall too.'

'I wish I could be of assistance.'

Cronin slammed his fist against James' tube. 'Just shut up now,' he whispered.

Etta had been telling Caesar why she shouldn't be discounted just because she comes from a middle district, and about how she considers herself to be lethal with a flail.

'You sound like you should have been born in one of the inner districts!' laughed Caesar.

'Well,' began Etta kindly, 'I don't believe alliances in the games are a bad thing, just think that it's good to get a good selection of people on your side. I could never do with a team of people all just like me; every team needs a bit of intelligence, a bit of strength, and a bit of care. A team of brutal killers, in my opinion, is not as effective as a team of killers, thinkers and healers. Variety is what does it for me.'

'Have you told your potential allies this before?' asked Caesar, sounding genuinely interested.

'Yeah, I try to make them know that they are so much more than their ability with a weapon. They might be smart, or brave, or watchful. Everyone here has something that no one else has, so I don't think there's any way someone could predict the winner now.' At this, the audience clapped.

Caesar nodded in agreement. 'You seem very hopeful, and you definitely have something I don't think anyone else here tonight has. I wish you the best of luck. Ladies and gentlemen, from District Six, the lovely Etta.' There was further applause, and Etta curtsied graciously. If this was a popularity contest, she would certainly win; she was not arrogant and egotistic like the Careers, yet she was just as strong as them, which made her seem like the ideal winner.

'You won't be admiring her when she's killing your siblings in cold blood,' commented Cronin.

'I would kill her siblings if I was in her position,' replied James calmly. He was being honest; he knew that if someone did kill Albus or Lily, he couldn't hold it against them.

After Etta's memorable and thoughtful interview, Tait's came as quite a shock. He wasn't quite as awkward as Eric, but he came close. He did try his best though; he just seemed to struggle to put his thoughts into words. He tried to smile, but he had never been able to do as much as smirk since he had Olida on his case. He seemed to be aware that most of what Etta had just said was aimed at him, and it seemed to at least make him feel relaxed, even if it didn't make him any more talkative. Finally it finished, and the girl tribute from District 7 was about to walk on stage. James was sitting attentively in his seat, reading to cheer as she came on, while Cronin just munched away at his popcorn.

'Now,' introduced Caesar, 'is the first half of the Potter siblings from District Seven. She may only be thirteen, but we shouldn't judge a book by its cover! Am I right, folks?' Caesar laughed jovially with the crowd, then introduced Lily to the stage.

James shot up and began to cheer and clap and loudly as he could, then he chanted 'Seven' repeatedly with three claps in between each holler.

'Ah, I get it! She was dressed up like a book for the parade!' noted Cronin, ignoring James' celebrations. 'Wow, what a true comedian that man is.'

Lily walked forward to Caesar, and James fell silent. The little girl who was whisked off on that train oh so long ago was now a young lady, and she looked beautiful tonight. Her strapless dress went down to the floor, starting as white at the sweetheart neckline and gradually turning into a light pink as it reached the hem. From knee-level to the bottom of the dress were little dark pink dots, quite close together at the very bottom, but spread out nearer to the knee. If the colour had not made it clear, the way the dress split in to six points at the end did; Lily's stylist had based this dress on her namesake. Or, at least, what she knew to be her namesake. Lily's red hair had been plated, and simple make-up had been applied to her face. James watched his little sister, and felt a tear roll down his cheek. The Capitol has brought out Lily's true beauty just before they were sending her off to die. James couldn't control himself, and rested his head in his hands to try and hide his face from Cronin.

'My, my, my!' bellowed Caesar, 'don't you look stunning tonight, young lady?!' There was applause, as usual, and Lily smiled.

'Thanks, I thought I'd better scrub up for the occasion!' she joked. The crowd loved that, and gave her plenty of laughter.

'Well you certainly did! I give it a week, and then everyone will be going mad for floral! But tell me, are you really an innocent little flower?'

Lily paused, still trying hard to smile politely. 'I have good aim, so I've been told, but I much prefer stealth to action.'

'Do you think you have a chance of winning?'

Lily considered what to say, still doing her best to smile. 'Yes. I have a chance, of course. If I can get a little helping hand, I might just manage.'

'A helping hand from whom?'

'Well, the lovely people of the Capitol, and of course any tributes that I've allied with.'

'I'm guessing one of those allies will be your brother, Albus. Is that right?'

The smile began to fade from Lily's face. 'Yes. Yes, that's right.'

Caesar held Lily's hands in his. 'How are you feeling about the two of you being in this together?'

Lily was no longer smiling at all. She looked terrified, but she still answered. 'I'm not sure; to be honest, I try to avoid thinking about it. I guess I'm glad that he's here with me, but there's only one winner, right?'

'Yes, indeed, which is why it's slightly sad for us all, I imagine, when we think of you and your brother.'

Slightly. Just slightly sad, but no more than that. James was fuming with anger, ready to smash everything he could get his hands on, but his protective tube prevented him from doing anything. Cronin must have known he'd get angry; he must have had a shred of intelligence after all. Lily was interrogated about she felt whenever she saw Albus for not much longer, then she moved on to her archery skills.

'It's not all about having perfect aim,' she said kindly, 'it's about seeing where the arrow goes when you aim it straight ahead, then adjusting your aim to make it go straight.'

'Well, you better not say too much; some of the others might here you! But I do think that's a good lesson in life, don't you think? If you can't quite get what you're aiming at, adjust your aim and you'll get it.'

There was a murmur of concurrence within the crowd. With that, Caesar bid farewell to Lily, and introduced 'the other half of the Potters from District Seven' on to the stage.

Albus wore an ivory suit with a bright shirt of harlequin green. James eyes began tearing again at the sight of his little brother looking so dapper; his hair had been styled and his fringe taken out of his eyes, making him look like a right gent. He joined Caesar, his eyes twinkling and his smile bright. They exchanged pleasantries, then Caesar pressed on about something a lot of the audience were thinking about.

'Something that I'm rather curious about, and I'm sure that everyone here - even your own sister – is too, is this; why did you volunteer after your sister was reaped? You didn't take her place – in fact, from what I've heard you took the place of someone who doesn't even call you a friend!'

Albus laughed a little. 'Well firstly, I knew that that particular non-friend of mine would have tormented Lily at every give chance here, and that was the last thing she needed in this kind of situation. And secondly, I just couldn't stand thinking about her being so alone. I know that what I did could be thought of as bad for both of us, but I just couldn't stand the idea of her being alone out here, you know? Like, I know that she could always make allies with other tributes, but I couldn't just watch her on a screen while sitting so far away from her. I had to be here with her, and if that meant one of us would have to die, at least we wouldn't die alone.'

Albus somehow managed not to cry while delivering his speech, but that couldn't be said for those listening to it, especially not James; for a guy who could take being beat up like it was nothing, he wasn't great at hiding his emotions around his enemies.

'Aw, how cute,' mocked Cronin while crunching down popcorn. This time, James drove his fist right out in front of him and struck the tube interior. He hid how painful it was very well, but he had let Cronin see that he was getting to him. James buried his face in his arms to hide himself, and Cronin held off. Things stayed that way as the two tributes from Eight were interviewed and as the girl from Nine was introduced. Caesar introduced her as 'the girl everyone was talking about', and sure enough, everyone in the crowd had been waiting for her.

She donned a golden, sparkly off-the-shoulder dress with an opening at the front to show off her long legs and golden sensible flats. Her hairstyle was most absurd; it came across in an ice blonde braid from the left side and covered both her pearly eyes, then went over her right ear round to the back of her head, where it fell down as a ponytail. Anyone who didn't know that she was blind would have very confused, yet luckily there was no such person in the whole nation. She was rather skinny and fragile looking, but to the Capitol she looked like she could be a model, even if she could not see. She walked slowly towards Caesar, but he walked to her halfway and took her hand, guiding her to the centre of the stage.

'I must say, my dear, your hair looks truly fabulous!' he said with glee. 'You are very fortunate to be able to pull of such unique appearances, you know.'

'Yes, quite,' she said in a well-spoken, well-pronounced voice. 'I am so very lucky to be blind. I really ought to look on the bright side more. I mean, not only can I put my hair like this with no ill consequences, but I have been told I can hear and smell things much more vividly than others can.'

'Are you saying that you may have an advantage?'

'Well, in some ways, but obviously not all. I may not be able to see someone or something if it's far away, but I can still hear footsteps or crunching leaves, and I've learned how to detect things like that over time.'

Caesar nodded. 'I bet a lot of people never even considered that you could win this, but I think you've just shown that you really do have as much of a chance as anyone. Am I right, folks?' There were a few cheers and claps from the crowd.

Cronin scoffed. 'Is she going to hear a throwing star coming at her from several feet away? Or maybe she'll smell out the enemy and kill them as soon as she can sniff them. It's times like this when I'm glad I'm not Flickerman.'

'Are you saying there are times when you want to be him?' asked James quietly, not expecting a response.

'Very often. Whenever I see him at fancy parties while I'm stuck in poverty ridden pits, for example.'

When it was time for Natalie to leave the stage, Caesar guided her off, for which the audience gave him much applause. After that, it was Nanuk's turn to walk on. Wearing a chocolate brown suit with a golden shirt, he did not smile or wave as he entered, and he did not act pleasant and sociable during the interview, but it was not because he felt awkward or uncomfortable; it was because he felt nothing but abhorrence for the crowd in front of him and he saw no reason why he should try to please them, so he did not. He did not discuss his alliance, his use of kama, his thoughts for Natalie or anything else he was asked about.

He was the last interesting person to be interviewed, and James was glad when the wall in front of him returned to one big mirror. The doorway reappeared in the wall, and Cronin rose.

'Well, James,' he concluded, 'I thoroughly enjoyed that. Thanks for your company. Here, you can have these for supper if you like.' Cronin turned his helmet over and let all the remaining popcorn fall to the cell floor. 'Don't eat them too fast, or you'll get bits caught in your throat. I'd better be off, I have an early start tomorrow – making sure everyone's tuned in for the Games, you see. Don't you worry; you'll have it shown right here on your big screen, so you won't miss a thing. Sleep tight, James, and behave yourself. If there's ever anything you feel like saying about, oh I don't know, McGonagall or Rose, just say so. I'm always watching.' He walked out into the space in the wall, his empty helmet at his side, and the door shut. The tube encasing James lifted up, giving him a little more freedom, but not much; James was alone again, with only his chair, mattress, and supper of popcorn spread all over the floor as company.