Victors could generally be put into four categories. There were the sell outs, who succumbed to the Capital's ways. There were the broken ones, who tried to bury their pain in a haze of drugs and alcohol. There were the newbies, who were still learning the rules of this strange second Game. And there were the rebels, who fought back against the Capital every way they could.
Technically, there was also a fifth group. The dead ones. The ones that had pushed the Capital too far. They didn't talk about those.
The rebels had a tendency to gather on the roof when things got tough. This year, they'd been wearing out the roof tiles.
This year there was no one from One or Two there to represent their district, despite their numerous victors. Leonid Aster usually came but was absent this time for obvious reasons.
Gandalf talked quietly to Mr. Gold, despite their usual animosity. Lupin went to try and ease a bit off the bleakness from Flynn's face, elegantly avoiding the frustrated Sirius and Tonks in the process. Granny - even the other victors had a tendency to call her that - greeted Billy, an old friend.
Everyone noticed Four's conspicuous absence. Everyone knew why they were gone.
All of them secretly thought Four's victors would soon be joining the fifth category.
Nimue had approached a clearly uncomfortable Halt. Fury intercepted Irene as she made her way across the small garden.
Whispers. Hints. Wisps of magic.
All of it sizzled in a cauldron slowly starting to boil over.
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Hunger Games: Fandom Style
FanfictionThe Districts struggle, not just to survive, but also to hide their secrets. Magic (and things far more dangerous) lurk at the edges of Panem. Werewolves, wizards, spies, and even a Holmes just try to keep their heads down. But this year, Artemis F...
