This story began as a challenge from a Harry Potter Facebook Page Admininstator so here you go 'Willow'
Willow's Page - http://www.facebook.com/pages/Willow/242897939127757
Check out this page aswell - http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Harry-Games-The-Perfect-Book-and-Film/592227090788606
District 9 ¾
Chapter One
My name is Nevena, I come from a place broadly named ‘District 9 ¾ ’, and I practise magic.
Every year it is the same. I go to school to practise my art, I watch first years being initiated, and I try my hardest to forget it.
My father is a strong man, who believes in hard work and blaming others for his bad luck. He often tells me that our ancestors were Welsh, and that if they had stayed in the ‘Valleys’ and kept to themselves, then perhaps our lives would have been different. I would have had my mother, I would have had my brother, and My Defence against the Dark Arts teacher would not have been one of the only surviving Tributes from our district.
My mother’s story is truly one of tragedy and idiocy. She and my father had me when they were only sixteen. If that didn’t spark up enough gossip in the district, then the fact that she was chosen as Tribute, not a month into her second pregnancy, definitely did.
I’ve watched the footage over and over; she put up a good fight. Got into the final six, but she lost a lot of blood after my brother (I like to think It was a boy) died inside of her, and some girl from District 2 smothered her with a sleeping bag. My dad hates the idea of me watching the clips, so I tend to wait until he’s asleep, or working late.
Our District produces fighters/ body guards/ sentinels/ whatever you want to call it for the Capitol. We are essentially the Capitol’s own personal security detail. My father works for our District’s Mayor, Being our link to the Capitol he must always be protected, so my father leads a team of four men who monitor the Mayor’s activity all day, every day. Meaning plenty of free time for me, which is usually spent doing homework or six hour shifts at the local Book Shop.
My wrist band is flipped the wrong way making me uncomfortable, the faint blue rings growing in the darkness. I flip the rubbery material over and silently curse the Capitol. This is their way of monitoring us here in District 9 3/4. The day we turn ten we are issued with these bracelets, fitted with skin sensors and some other fancy features which basically add up to one very convenient little ‘Magic detector’. If we are using spells when we shouldn’t, where we shouldn’t, or how we shouldn’t, then the blue rings turn red and in minutes the Peacemakers are knocking down the door.
I’ve seen it happen a couple of times. Some idiots from school thinking they are invincible and pulling an Immobulus, or Petrificus Totalus spell on someone. Within five minutes a Peacemaker had them by the throats and they were dragged into a white van. The next day they’d be a little roughed up, with upgraded bracelets.
Those of us in school are issued white bracelets. Once we graduate and leave school we receive black ones, but for those who go into service -like my father- they receive Red.
I’m lying in bed listening. My father wakes up at Six-Thirty every morning, and I’ve grown accustomed to the sound of his heavy steps waking me up. I’ve come to recognise it so well that he can never sneak up on me. By the extra thud in his steps about ten minutes later, means he’s put on his boots and It is now time for me to get up for school.
You would think that being the Mayor’s personal security would mean we earned the big bucks, HA! The Capitol are so strict with wage limits that my father roughly earns the same as I would if were to quit school and work triple shifts at the book shop. This means that, unlike the extremely privileged in our district, my father can’t pay for me to board at the school. I have to walk a mile and a half each morning to one of three shuttle stops across the District in order to make it to school by nine o’clock.
