Hunger Games: Fandom Style

District 9 (Harry Potter)

The factories loomed over District 9 like hideous castles of industry. There was nothing to mark the one they had just left as any different to Muggle eyes, except for the small letters scratched on the third brick from the top and second brick to the right. Even if someone had noticed the strange word "Hogwarts" they probably would have dismissed it as graffiti.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped out of the blast doors. Hogwarts was nothing like the stories that had been passed down through the generations. The concrete building had no moving staircases, no bubbling potions, no talking portraits. The thin sticks of wood they kept hidden under their jackets were nicked and scratched till their cores showed through. The wands had been passed down from generation to generation. There weren't many unicorns around anymore to make wands from, and if the almost mythical phoenixes were still around, they had the good sense not to linger in the smog filled District 9. All that was left were a few tattered scraps of magic taught in the trash strewn halls of Hogwarts, the most useful of which was Obscuro Maximus, which had allowed them to avoid getting caught using magic in the Games for decades now.
Unfortunately, magic wasn't always enough to win, as Peter Pettigrew had proven. And Regulus Black. And Crabbe. And Lavender. And Seamus . . . And who knew how many others. Well, Hermione probably did. She knew everything.
Including the odds of getting chosen. "Since we all have only four entries in the bowl, the odds of us getting picked are actually only - "
"I don't want to know," Ron said glumly. "The odds were in Percy's favor too, weren't they? He only had one in that year."
Hermione bit her lip. They'd been too young to remember too many details of Percy's Games, but the end result was always all too plain to see around the Weasley's dinner table.
At least none of them had taken tesserae out, Harry thought grimly. Lupin and Sirius had taken care of that. They used their winnings to help out the other wizarding families in District 9, even the Lestranges. As Sirius said, they might be strange, but they were still family. The same went for the Dursleys. They weren't wizarding, but Sirius and Lupin still looked after them for Lily's sake. She would have appreciated that.
James, Sirius, and Lupin had won in consecutive years. The three Marauders, Sirius joked. By rights, James should be living next to them in a Victor's Mansion. Instead, he and Lily were next door to his parents, in the district cemetery. Sirius had always suspected the Capital had something to do with it, though he would never tell Harry more than that James hadn't been willing to do what the Capital had asked of him. Sirius didn't like talking about that. Even Tonks wouldn't tell him any more, although she did mention that sometimes being able to have a pig nose was a surprising advantage.
Sirius had taken Harry in after James and Lily's deaths. He was already at the District square, sprawled across two chairs, much to Mayor Fudge's dismay. Sirius pretended not to notice that he was taking up the mayor's chair in addition to his own until Lupin politely pointed it out to him.
"Sorry, Fudge, didn't see you there. How're things in the halls of the high and mighty? Say, you're not still looking for that guy who stole your mayor's plaque, are you?"
There was a gold plaque hanging on the mayor's door. Or, rather, there had been. Fudge had been inordinately proud of it. Harry suspected it could now be found somewhere in Sirius's room, ready to be used as a dining room centerpiece the next time Fudge came over.
Hermione split off into the girl's pen. Ron watched her go with a slightly worried look.
"She'll be fine," Harry told him.
"I'm not worried about her! Look at Ginny! She's snogging Dean again!"
"That's her business, isn't it?" Harry said shortly. "Come on, it's about to start."
The typical film about the Dark Days rolled across the screen. Harry figured it was about as factual as Tom Riddle's drunken ramblings. There wasn't a single sign of magic in any of the glamorized fighting portrayed on screen.
Niva Hardee, their District escort, clasped a hand to her chest. "Oh, it takes my breath away. Isn't it wonderful?"
Ginny acted like she was gagging. Harry grinned.
"Now, ladies first - Ahh! Get it off me! Get it off!"
Worms were suddenly writhing in the girl's bowl. Thick black ones dripped off of Niva's fingers.
"Brand new in stock," Fred whispered from beside him. "Weasley's Worm Papers, just five cents per slip."
"How'd you get them up there?"
"Sirius and Lupin. We got McGonagall to help us with some of the transfiguration bits."
"McGonagall?" Ron whispered.
George appeared beside Ron. "She caught us working on it weeks ago. We figured she'd tell Mum and the game would be up, but she just told us what we were doing wrong. Great woman, McGonagall."
Sirius had finally stopped laughing long enough to help Fudge with Niva. Niva straightened her gloves, sniffing. "As I was saying, for the ladies, we have . . . Ginny Weasley."
All the air went out of Harry's lungs. The crowd around him was pressed uncomfortably close suddenly, as the boys hurried to hold back the Weasley brothers.
"Let go of me," Fred hissed. "I'm going to kill them! Let go of me, I'm going to kill them!"
Mrs. Weasley was wailing from the middle of the crowd. She'd already lost one child to the Games and another to the factories. Now she was about to lose yet another.
"Excuse me," a vague voice said. "Excuse me, I'd like to volunteer. It seems like the right thing to do."
Fred and George stopped struggling. "Luna?" they said together in stunned disbelief.
Sure enough, her white blonde hair was weaving through the crowd. "Excuse me," she said again to the Peacekeepers that were already gathered around Ginny.
Another wail went up from the crowd. Luna was all Xenophilius had left.
"Well," George said shakily.
"She won't make it," Ron said. "She'll think the mutts are crumple headed snorckacks or something."
Anger burned through Harry. This was wrong, all wrong. Even Sirius looked shaky as he helped Luna to the stage. Lupin shook her hand as she walked by.
Ginny was still standing in the muddy strip of road where the Peacekeepers had left her. Hermione slipped out of the pen to help her back into the safety of the crowd.
"Well, that was certainly exciting! What's your name, dear?"
Luna was waving at the crowd. "What? Oh, Luna. Luna Lovegood. Did you know there are a good deal of nargles flying around your head? They can make it hard to think, you know." She started waving her arms to get rid of them.
"On second thought," George said, "she may confuse the competition enough to win. Imagine what her interview's going to be like."
"The Capital won't know what hit 'em," Fred said grimly. "You know, it would only be right to give her a present before she goes, George. Something she can share with the Capital. A gift from the Weasley family."
A glint came into George's eyes. "Some candy, perhaps?"
"Or even some fudge."
"We haven't figured out to get rid of the boils on that one yet."
They looked at each other for a long moment. "Perfect," they said together.
"Just make sure she doesn't eat it," Harry said.
Niva managed to disentangle herself from Luna long enough to walk to the boy's bowl. She hesitated noticeably before sticking her hand in. She snatched one off the top and drew her hand back as quickly as if she expected a snake to bite her. She glanced down at the paper. "Harry Potter."
Someone was screaming. Possibly several someones. Lupin and Tonks appeared to be holding Sirius back from attacking the woman, although Lupin didn't appear to be trying very hard. Fudge had already been shoved off the stage.
Harry walked forward as if in a dream. "Hello, Luna."
"Hello, Harry. This'll be interesting, don't you think? Aren't we supposed to shake hands now?"
Harry looked out at the chaos the camera crews didn't seem sure whether or not they were supposed to film. "Honestly, I don't think anyone would notice if we did."