Hunger Games: Fandom Style

The Beginning of the End

/Jack Frost hung upside down from a window. "Hello, Luna. What're you doing today? Making a dreamcatcher. Nice."
She smiled at him. "Thank you."
Jack stumbled backwards. "You can hear me!"
"Of course I can. Would you hold this for a moment?" She handed him some scissors.
He nearly dropped them. "You - you believe in me."
"You've been leaving me notes for a while now. Was I not supposed to read them?"
Jack whooped. "You believe in me!" He picked her up and twirled her around. In sheer joy, he kissed her before he could think about it.
He pulled back, eyes wide. He ran a hand through his hair in embarrassment. "Oops. Sorry." He scratched the back of his neck.
"Why?"
"Er, probably shouldn't have done that. I mean - Probably shouldn't have just walked into a girl's bedroom, come to think of it. Sorry."
She shrugged. "I wouldn't know. This is the first time a friend has come over."
A grin threatened to split Jack's face. A friend. He glanced out the window. Snow was falling outside. It was dying for him to make a suitably impressive slide out her window and send it curling through the streets.
"Hey - wanna see something awesome?"/

A/N: Sorry, guys, I couldn't resist. Just a little bonus drabble about Jack and Luna's meeting. I kinda ship them. Of course, now Luna's dead, but I needed some cheering up.
For that matter, so do my most of my characters. Although in my defense - wait. I can't tell you about that bit yet. Fiddlesticks.
By the way, 31 people read "To the Pain (Other)". On the one hand, I'm thrilled. Thirty-one people! On the other hand, that would mean that at least . . . oh, at least 14 people randomly flipped to that chapter, read it, and then ignored everything before and after it.
Just for the record, this is not a collection of one-shots. But, hey, whatever floats your boat.
Now for the fun stuff! Or, you know, the not-so-fun tragic stuff . . .

Gwen removed Uther's dinner tray. He hadn't moved from the dining room table. He just stared at the television screen, eyes seeing nothing until one of his children flashed upon it. A brief glimpse of Arthur holing up in a back room. A much longer one of Morgana revealing her true colors.
He never said anything, but his eyes had gotten that fragile look, and he was clutching his armrests like lifelines.
"Sir?" Gwen asked hesitantly.
He didn't answer. She took his untouched food to the kitchen.
The cook whapped Merlin on the head with a wooden ladle for daring to steal her pastries.
Gwen stumbled against the door frame. The dishes clattered against the floor. She closed her eyes. I'm going mad. She was shaking. Utterly mad.
Merlin was missing. He hadn't been seen for weeks. And Gwen was Uther's cook, not some ill tempered plump matron.
She opened her eyes. The vision was gone. She picked up the dishes with shaking hands. The dreams were haunting her even in her waking hours now. Horrible dreams of fire and blood and death.
Of course, not all the dreams were bad. A small smile played across her lips as she remembered the last one. At least in her dreams, Arthur was a very good kisser.
You're going mad, and you're too busy mooning over some boy to mind it. You're a fool, Gwen.
The distant sound of the tributes' latest estimated odds tore her out of her thoughts.
Arthur's were down.

The Great Hall, such as it was, was the favored meeting place of wizards. Cheap folding tables and plastic chairs were frequently covered with paper plates of food enchanted to look more appetizing and the apparatus needed for the various gambling games that had become so popular. Cheating was expected. Wizards competed to see who could best bedazzle the torn cards, the loaded die, or their opponent. The losers frequently went hungry. The winners saved up to get extra rations for their family or tattered spell book pages from the black market.
During the Games, a half-decent television was levitated in and kept running at all hours. Only the most callous or reckless of gamblers dared place their bets on the tributes. There were still stains on the floor from the time Mrs. Weasley had discovered men betting against her Percy.
A crowd of teens sprawled across the floor in front of it, taking comfort in each other's touch. Hermione alternated between leaning on Ron's shoulder and punching it. Ron quickly gave up on figuring out what he'd done and started skipping to the part where he apologized for it. Ginny sat staring pale and hard faced at the screen, guilt and terror nearly immobilizing her.
Harry and Luna were in danger, and there was nothing she could do to help.
Even the twins were finding little to joke about. There just wasn't much funny about the Games.
After Luna died, there was even less.
The TV exploded into a shower of green sparks a half-second after the cannon boomed. It wasn't the first time a television had been sacrificed to the volatile emotions and magic of teenage wizards. A spare was immediately flipped on. Heads spun frantically as they shoved each other for a better view of it.
"Harry!"
Ron looked over the crowd and heaved a sigh of relief. "He made it out."
"Luna didn't," Hermione whispered. "Oh, Luna . . . " Tears fell freely down her cheeks.
"This has to end," Ginny said in a low voice. "This has to end now. They've taken enough. No, they've taken far too much. It's time to fight back."
The others stared at her. "Ginny," Fred said in a reasonable voice, "it's the Capital. You can't just declare war on the Capital."
"Anything's possible, if you've got enough nerve. We're going to take them down." She turned to walk off. "First meeting of the D.A. starts now," she called over her shoulder.
Fred and George raised identical eyebrows before shrugging and following her. Hermione took a shuddering breath before running off in another direction.
"Hermione! Where are you going?"
"Books!" she called back. "We'll need every spell book I can find!"
The twins had heard. "Who do we know that has a lot of spell books on offensive magic?" Fred - or possibly George - said thoughtfully.
"You don't mean - "
"Who else?"
The twins shared an evil grin before darting out the door.

President Snow looked out over the assembled group of mentors. They sat on either side of a polished wood table, many fidgeting nervously. President Snow sat at the head, hands folded.
"For seventy-three years, Panem has lived in relative peace. Our yearly get together here has held together by members by and large swearing off any and all so called "supernatural" advantages. When they have been used, they have been used sparingly and discreetly. This was good. This was safe." He clicked the button that allowed a few choice highlights from the most recent Games to play. "This is neither." His gaze swept down the table. "Mr. Ryder, you in particular owe me an explanation, I think."
Flynn shrugged with the impudent thoughtlessness only a man convinced he had nothing left to lose would dare to. Snow made a note to punish him properly for it. "I can't report what I don't know about. I had no idea she was so gifted."
"Mm. Fortunately, she, at least, will not be a threat to our peace much longer."
Flynn was half out of his seat already. "What?"
"Sit down, Mr. Ryder. Suffice to say, I have made arrangements. You're welcome to join me at six the day after the full moon for a special viewing. In fact, I insist upon it."
Flynn was desperate. "Sir, she's not rebellious by nature. I swear you can control her, she would be a valuable asset, I swear. Don't take her out of the Games out of hand, sir, please."
"My apologies, Mr. Flynn, but it's as good as done."
The pain Flynn kept so carefully hidden was fast coming to the surface. "Please - "
"If you do not control yourself, I will have to have you escorted from the meeting."
Lupin grabbed the man's arm and forced him down. Judging by the look that quickly overspread Flynn's face, someone had just hit him with some kind of soothing charm. Nimue, perhaps. He hadn't seen any light flying around.
Thinking of Nimue - "You said you could control your student.'
She looked at him calmly. "It appears I was mistaken."
Snow raised an eyebrow. "You know the cost."
"She'll die, I suppose. What a pity. Woe is me."
Snow's eyes narrowed. She was playing a game of some sort. It would be critical to know what before he acted. "Mr. Butler - where is Mr. Butler?"
"Sedated," Irene said helpfully. "The poor man lost it after his sister died."
"Unfortunate." Snow scanned his list. Aster had been given leave to go home. "For once, three's tributes have caused no overt problems. Congratulations."
Gandalf inclined his head. There was an amused light in the lady Galadriel's eyes.
"Captain Morgan, on the other hand . . . "
Captain Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Tried to warn you, mate. You cancelled the meeting. She's one of the old heathen spirits. Powerful. Immortal. Only reason she hasn't let loose yet is an old binding on her, but it's coming unravelled. It needs to be strengthened."
"Perhaps." Panem's presidents told their successors in no uncertain terms that they were not, under any circumstances, to surrender the nine pieces of eight to the pirate lords. Captain Morgan wouldn't be getting them that easily.
"Mr. Gold."
"Our deal yet remains unbroken."
"Good." Especially since their hunt for the elusive bell had been unfruitful so far.
He looked down the rest of the table. Fury was as calm as ever. Halt had withdrawn into a bitter, angry haze, liberally fueled with coffee and grief. He was dangerous, but also vulnerable. Ruby's grandmother had no cause for complaint, and he had none for her. Captain Morgan could be dealt with later. Butler would have to be awoken soon, though. Snow needed information about One that even his spies couldn't give him.
Tonks was despondent. The remaining Marauders were furious.
He dismissed the others and then looked at them coolly. "There's no need to feel so persecuted. Your godson's one step closer to victory, isn't he?"
Sirius snarled. Lupin had to physically restrain him.
Snow didn't flinch. "Full moon's in three day's, gentlemen. I suggest you be ready." He walked out.
Punishments would need to be dealt out, naturally, but if the curse was weakening this much, it might not be enough. He'd have to go back to the source.
He tapped his fingers on the guard rail thoughtfully. At least they finally had a lead, of sorts. Getting Butler to talk might be difficult, but they'd manage.
Time to dig up the Fowl family secrets.

Mr. Gold gave his cane one more twist for good measure. There. The curse ought to be strong enough now. Snow was too shrewd to be duped for long, especially if he was too overt, but then, Gold specialized in subtlety. The curse should be enough to confuse him for a while, force him to make stupid mistakes.
Gold smiled. I will rip out your heart and squeeze it till you beg for mercy.
Of course, he should probably keep that to himself. He doubted Belle would approve.