Warnings: All the standard ones for a series like HG. Possible slash, possible swearing. Finnick Odair being himself.
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Summary: In the 73rd Hunger Games, a man who had previously appeared out of no where was chosen as Tribute. Every time the cameras focused on him, they would short circuit, as though something was stopping them from working. Now it's the 75th Hunger Games and this man has been chosen again, his greatest weapon being that no one knows his methods. His name? Harry Potter.
Peeta and Katniss sat in silence after watching Haymitch's video. Neither expected him to come up behind them, ignoring the fact that they had just seen him win his own Games, the one he tried so hard to forget by drinking. His only reprieve from the memories, seeing other people so brutally murdered. Only other victors could understand what it was like, to live with it every day. Some would call it survivor's guilt. They called it bound to happen.
He sat down next to the two, rifling through the box of videos before he made a grunt of victory, pulling one out. Just before he shoved the tape in, they saw the name on the side.
"Who's this?" Katniss asked curiously, hardly falling off of her seat in anticipation, though Peeta was half way there. Seeing all these games, ones they had ignored or been too young to see, was definitely an enlightening experience. Haymitch looked back to her before shuffling back to his seat.
"Harry Potter, as you read on the box," He muttered, almost rolling his eyes. "He's the winner of the 73rd Hunger Games. Won the year before you." Both of the re-elected tributes sat in silence, eyes wide. They had seen those Games, and if they missed something they quickly heard about it soon after.
The 73rd Hunger Games was brutal. Everywhere it was only snow, and you had to keep yourself warm to keep yourself alive. Many of the contestants had died from being too cold. However, it was still a brutal murder from those who lived. Only 9 of the tributes actually died from the freezing weather. The rest were killed by others, just as most were.
However, it was also a strange year. There was a tribute from District 6. He had appeared there years before and made a life. The Capitol questioned him, but they couldn't get anything out of him no matter what method they used. Of course, President Snow was interested so he let Potter go to get on with his life.
It couldn't have been coincidence that just a year later they realised he was there and had questioned him, the then 18-year-old was chosen for the Hunger Games.
But this year was strange because something was wrong with the cameras whenever they focused on this boy. They would go all fuzzy and you could barely make anything out only when they focused on him. No one knew what it was, so they eventually paid more attention to the other tributes.
They say the only thing that Harry Potter, victor of the 73rd Hunger Games, had with him as a District token was a wooden stick. It wasn't anything special, there were no tricks: it was just a very polished stick.
Peeta, Katniss and Haymitch watched on screen as he was called as tribute. His face only held acceptance, as if he had anticipated this happening – he wasn't surprised or sad about it at all. People parted as he walked forward, some patting him on the back and others whispering condolences or good lucks to him. He smiled at them all as he reached the stage, his head held high. Putting a fist over his heart, he bowed deeply to them all. A sign of respect, they figured, as they watched him straighten out.
It skipped to Harry walking onto the stage for an interview with Caeser Flickerman. The kid was charismatic; he had the crowd loving him. His costume was simple – a train drivers costume, a hat included. The Capitol people loved it; they loved him. It was no wonder that he had the most sponsors that year.
"Harry, what do you think of becoming the tribute to a place you've only just begun to live in?" Caeser asked and Harry smiled; the look on his face was innocent.
"I'm quite happy that it was me and no one else. I saw the Games last year... I wouldn't want anyone else to go through that. I know what I'm doing and I have a plan no matter what. I'm proud to go in and hopefully come out victorious as thanks to the people in District 6 who took me in, despite my being a foreigner to them," Caeser looked at him with sympathy, already quite taken with the boy.
That was his aim. To make people love him just by his charming personality, apparently. Peeta could see how he had endeared himself, and thought the boy to be charming himself even if he knew that it was all a ploy – the one who looked to be the same age as them was winning them all over so easily. He was, in reality, two years older than them.
The screen changed and they saw him rising by the Cornucopia, his eyes hard as the ice around him as he looked around the frozen arena. He seemed to be thinking of something and, as soon as the buzzer went off, he dashed away from all of the other tributes without even bothering to pick up any other supplies other than a backpack, the same tactic as many other tributes had used year after year. It was lucky he did as it was full of different sorts of supplies to keep him alive.
There wasn't much to see as, when they did try to watch him, it would only fuzz up and they couldn't make anything out.
"That's his biggest weapon," Haymitch said as Peeta took out the video from its player. Katniss and Peeta looked over to the older man to see determination in his eyes. "No one knows what he's good at apart from those who were tributes in his year. And they're all dead." Haymitch looked over them both, his face completely serious.
"So what do we do?" Peeta asked.
"We get him as an ally." Haymitch replied simply, and they both nodded in agreement.
The first time they saw him in person, it was the opening ceremony. They were glowing, beautiful and they were staring straight ahead into gem-like eyes, an unusual green in colour and hard to turn away from. People in the audience were finding it hard to choose whether they should look at Katniss and Peeta or Harry or Finnick Odair. They're all so beautiful, and beauty is everything in the Capitol.
Next to him there was a sagging yet almost young woman, a morphling addict who looked like nothing compared to the youthful boy-turned-man next to her.
That was all they get to see before they are being shoved into an elevator. They would see him in training tomorrow.
But before that, they watched him on the recap of the opening ceremonies. He looked majestic, so sure of himself as he walked around, smiling politely and innocently at the audience. They never saw what he could do, so the innocence still works for him. They wouldn't suspect him of anything. Katniss looked to the corner of the screen, and she could barely make out President Snow. He was glowering at Harry, his eyes narrowed in thought. So they weren't the only ones on the President's bad side. 'What did Potter do?' She asked herself.
They did see him in training. He was one of the only ones there when they arrived, with Brutus and the woman from District 2 – the one that killed with her teeth. Enobaria, Katniss though. They were were chatting amiably, as if they had been friends for a long time. In a moment of pure confidence, Peeta headed towards them. Katniss could do naught but follow, her own curiosity causing her to trail along.
"Hello," Peeta said, smiling at them all. Harry turned to them and smiled brightly.
"Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, right?" Harry said, sticking his hand out in greeting. "I'm Harry Potter. It's a pleasure." Peeta immediately took his hand, shaking it and feeling a shiver run through him at the contact. It was like electricity quickly running through him.
"The pleasure's all ours, Harry." Katniss said politely in return, shaking his hand afterwards and feeling the same thing as Peeta. They looked at each other in slight wonderment, or maybe it was confusion and curiosity, but they both agreed that they needed to talk later.
"Thank you for not calling me Mister Potter," He said, running a hand through his hair and smiling as though he didn't realise the feeling he had caused. It was innocent once more, if not slightly bashful. "It gets a bit boring after a while," They both nodded at him, smiling as politely as they could in the face of an enigma. It was then that Finnick came up behind Harry and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Peeta jumped slightly, having not seen him because of talking to Katniss and Harry.
"My dearest, darling Harry. Are you leaving me for these youngsters?" Finnick said in a dramatic, woe-is-me voice. He leaned on the laughing Harry heavily.
"Finnick, my love, you know I would never leave you for someone else. Not without telling you first, anyway." Harry said, turning slightly so he was able to face the elder Victor. He sent a wink over to the two staring and slightly shell-shocked seventeen-year-olds as he leaned away and patted Finnick's cheek twice. The older man laughed brightly.
They were interrupted by Atlas asking for quiet, then proceeding to describe all of the stations. It wasn't really needed as they had all been there before. They were similar to all of the other years, despite the Capitol going all out for this year of the Games. Quarter Quells were something to be celebrated, after all – the importance of them was like nothing those from the lower Districts had seen before.
Harry and Finnick went off together first, to the fire-making station as Peeta and Katniss split up to talk to other victors to make friendly with, hoping for alliances. Peeta and Harry eventually ended up together whilst Katniss was with Beetee and Wiress from District 3. Peeta kept stealing glances at the other boy, looking at what he was doing for camouflage. He kept it simple. At least he seemed to know what he was doing.
Harry eventually turned to the other boy, taking his blond hair and warm blue eyes in.
"Are you okay, Peeta?" Harry asked, tilting his head to the side. "You seem a little out of it." Peeta just smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders, feeling slightly awkward but comfortable with Harry. The older man just emitted this comforting feeling that you couldn't help but feel drawn to.
"I'm just a bit nervous," Peeta admitted, looking down at his arm as he camouflaged it to look like some mud – it wasn't that hard, really. "I haven't gotten over the last Games. I mean... I still have nightmares about it, y'know?" Harry nodded his head in understanding, feeling slightly sympathetic for the other boy. He was, after all, a year younger than he was when he was in the Games. The same age when he was with the Wizarding World.
"I know how you feel. But we don't know what's going to happen in the future. All we can do is wait and see," Despite the morbid words coming from the other, Peeta couldn't help the vague feeling of comfort and settlement that he felt, like there was magic behind the words that managed to make him feel this way. It was strange, considering nothing anyone else had said had been able to comfort him in this way.
Maybe it was because Harry had experienced the games; he knew what they were like, or maybe it was just because he had a way with words and tone. Peeta didn't know, but either way, he was grateful.
"Yeah," he agreed, then paraphrased, "We'll see what happens."
This chapter is sort of just feeling things out, seeing how you guys react and if I should carry on with it. I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter and all!
I don't know who or if I want to pair Harry with anyone.
Just drop me a review or PM telling me who you would like to see him with, if anyone at all!