Careers
As the trio of friends wandered through the familiar woods, the unspoken heaviness of Sirius's absence lingered around them. Remus, lost in his thoughts, felt a profound ache in his heart. James and Peter exchanged concerned glances, unsure of how to break through the walls of Remus's silent sorrow.
Finally, unable to bear the quiet any longer, James tentatively spoke up. "Remus, are you okay?"
Remus sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of his emotions. "I don't know, James. It's just... It's hard, you know?"
Peter nodded empathetically. "We miss Sirius too, Remus. But we're here for you."
Remus looked at them with tearful eyes, the vulnerability shining through. "Will you watch the Games with me?" he asked, his voice quivering. "I need someone to share this burden, to be there when... when things happen."
James and Peter exchanged glances, realising the gravity of Remus's request. With a solemn nod, James spoke for both of them, "Of course, Remus. We'll be there for you. We'll watch the Games together."
As Sirius brooded in the solitude of the train compartment, the flickering images on the screen showcased moments from past Hunger Games – scenes of victors realising the grim victory that awaited them. Each frame bore the weight of survival, a reality Sirius was about to confront.
In a surge of frustration, he abruptly turned off the television, cutting ties with the haunting memories. The lingering silence was disrupted as Sirius stormed into another compartment, where Trelawney examined herself in a mirror, and Gideon engaged in conversation with Alastor.
"What's a good way to get killed?" Sirius demanded, his tone sharp.
Alastor, nonchalant, invited him to join. "Oh joy, why don't you join us? I was just giving some life-saving advice."
Gideon interjected, discussing the importance of finding shelter, prompting Sirius to inquire again. This time, with a touch of intensity. Alastor, seemingly unfazed, sought marmalade.
Sirius, impatient and agitated, seized a cutlery knife, driving it into the table. Trelawney, melodramatic, claimed the table was made of mahogany.
In the midst of the tension, Alastor offered a piece of wisdom. "You really want to know how to stay alive? You get people to like you. When you're in the middle of the Games and you're starving or freezing, some water, or a knife, or even some matches can mean the difference between life and death."
He emphasised the importance of sponsors, earning a pointed look from Sirius. Alastor's advice unfolded – to survive, one had to make themselves likeable, a feat Sirius realised he had yet to accomplish. Gideon gestured to the Capitol citizens outside, waving at them in their lavish attire.
Alastor, observing Sirius's struggle, offered a final piece of advice. "You better keep this knife. He knows what he's doing."
Sirius lay on the table as the stylists meticulously pampered him, their hands working deftly to wash and treat his hair. The soothing ambiance of the Capitol's styling chamber was interrupted by their hushed conversation.
"What was that?" Sirius asked, catching a snippet of their discussion.
"Oh, we were just saying that we might have to hose you down again before seeing Apolline," one stylist remarked, sharing a discreet smile with the others.
As Sirius waited on the table, Apolline entered the room, extending a greeting. "That was one of the bravest things I've ever seen – with your brother?"
"I'm Sirius," he replied, shaking Apolline's hand.
"I'm sorry that this happened to you," she expressed genuine sympathy. "And I'm here to help you in any way that I can. Most people just congratulate me," Sirius remarked.
"Well, I don't see the point in that," Apolline retorted. "So tonight, they have the tribute parade. I'm going to take you out and show you to the world."
"So, you're here to doll me up?" Sirius asked.
"I'm here to help you make an impression," Apolline corrected, her eyes gleaming with determination. "Now, usually they dress in the clothes from their district."
Sirius shifted uncomfortably on the styling chair as Apolline continued to work on his hair. The Capitol stylist seemed determined to make a statement, pushing boundaries beyond the typical District 12 coal miner aesthetic.
"I usually work with coal miners," Sirius explained. "But I don't want to do that," said Apolline.
"I wanna do something that they're going to remember," Apolline declared, her eyes scanning Sirius's reflection in the mirror.
"Did they explain about trying to get sponsors?" she asked.
"Yeah, but I'm not very good at making friends," Sirius admitted.
"We'll see," Apolline replied with a smirk, her fingers skillfully playing with his hair. "I just think someone that brave shouldn't be dressed up in some stupid costume, now should they?"
Sirius couldn't help but appreciate Apolline's determination to make him stand out, even if it meant breaking away from the traditional norms of District 12. The prospect of making an impact on the Capitol and winning sponsors was both daunting and intriguing, and Sirius was eager to see what Apolline had in mind for his parade appearance.
The Capitol's extravagant parade ground was ablaze with lights, anticipation, and the extravagant spectacle of the Hunger Games tribute parade. Apolline reassured Sirius and Gideon as they stood in their chariots, adorned in outfits that symbolises their defiance against the typical District 12 image.
"Okay, this is safe. It's not real fire. These suits are built so you won't feel a thing," Apolline explained, her voice calm but excitement evident in her eyes.
Over 100,000 people craned to get a glimpse of this year's tributes, while Rita Skeeter's enthusiastic commentary echoed through the air. As the cameras panned towards President Riddle, Sirius and Gideon made their entrance, covered in flaming fire that captivated the Capitol audience.
The shock on Rita Skeeter's face was palpable, and even President Riddle seemed taken aback, but it didn’t show on his face. The daring display of defiance from District 12's tributes had successfully stolen the spotlight.
Gideon reached for Sirius's hand, and hesitated, “ Come on, they’ll love it” Video whispered to Sirius , Sirius reciprocated. They lifted their connected hands in the air, sending a powerful message to the Capitol. Rita Skeeter recognized the impact immediately.
"Now, see that? I love that. Two young people holding their hands up and saying, 'I'm proud I come from District 12; we will not be overlooked.' I love that," Rita Skeeter exclaimed, acknowledging the unexpected boldness from the typically overshadowed district.
"People are sure going to be paying attention to them now," Rita said to the audience. Gellart announced into President Riddle's ear through an earpiece, confirming that they were now live.
President Riddle, though momentarily surprised, couldn't hide the satisfaction of a well-executed spectacle. "Welcome, Tributes. We welcome your courage and sacrifice. And we wish you happy Hunger Games. May the odds forever be in your favour."
As they descended from the chariots, Apolline congratulated Sirius and Gideon. "That was amazing. We are all everybody's talking about."
"So brave," Alastor added.
"Are you sure you should be near an open flame?" Alastor asked Sirius, concern etched on his face.
"Fake flame? Are you sure?" Alastor continued, with a hint of scepticism.
"Let's go upstairs, Alastor," Trelawney suggested, noticing the envious glares from other tributes. The District 12 duo had successfully made a bold statement, ensuring all eyes were on them.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the bustling Capital, Remus, James, and Peter watched the tribute parade unfold on a small screen provided to them. The grandiosity of the Capitol's celebration was striking, but Remus's attention was fixated on District 12, where Sirius and Gideon took centre stage.
As the chariots adorned in simulated flames rolled into view, Remus felt a mixture of pride and concern. Sirius and Gideon stood tall, their linked hands definitely raised against the backdrop of Capitol extravagance. The Capitol citizens cheered, and Remus couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion.
"That's Sirius," Remus whispered, a mixture of admiration and worry in his voice.
"He's really making a statement," James remarked, his eyes glued to the screen.
"Yeah, but it's risky. The Capitol doesn't like defiance," Peter added, nervously shifting in his seat.
Remus observed intently, his mind filled with conflicting emotions. The courage and determination exhibited by Sirius filled him with pride, but the perilous path that defiance could lead to weighed heavily on his heart.
"They're going to remember District 12 this year," Remus murmured, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“They even put eyeliner on him”. Peter commented, eyes fixated on the screen.
The Capitol Tribute Training Observer, a stern-faced figure with an air of authority, addressed the assembled tributes in the expansive training center. The room echoed with hushed whispers as the gravity of the upcoming Hunger Games hung heavily in the air.
"In two weeks, 23 of you will be dead," the observer began, his voice cutting through the anxious murmurs. "One of you will be alive. Who that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next four days."
The tributes exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from fear to determination. The observer continued, emphasising the harsh reality they were about to face. "First and foremost, no fighting with the other tributes. You'll have plenty of time for that in the arena. There are four compulsory exercises; the rest will be for individual training. My advice is don't ignore survival skills."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. The training centre was a hive of activity, with tributes already testing their strengths and skills in various stations.
"Everybody wants to grab a sword," the observer continued, his gaze sweeping across the diverse group. "But most of you will die from natural causes. Ten percent from infection, twenty percent from dehydration. Exposure can easily kill, just as a knife."
Rodolphus Lestrange stormed across the training area, a furious scowl etched on his face. He approached Benji Fenwick with accusing eyes.
"Where is it, Fenwick? Where's my knife?" Rodolphus spat, his voice laced with anger.
Benji, seemingly unperturbed, raised an eyebrow. "I haven't taken your knife, Lestrange. Check your own pockets."
Gideon nudged Sirius, directing his attention upward. Sirius followed Gideon's gaze and stifled a laugh when he saw a small girl perched on the ceiling banners, holding Rodolphus's knife with a mischievous grin.
"Look up," Gideon whispered to Sirius.
Sirius couldn't contain his laughter at the sight. Rodolphus continued to fume, oblivious to the girl above. Peacekeepers intervened before the situation escalated, breaking up the confrontation.
As Rodolphus was being led away, Sirius and Gideon exchanged amused glances.
As Sirius, Gideon, and Alastor sat down for lunch after their training session, Alastor decided to share some insights about the other tributes. He leaned in, his expression serious, and began, "Rodolphus Lestrange is a career."
"A career? What's that?" Gideon asked, his brow furrowed.
"Careers are tributes from Districts 1 and 2," Alastor explained. "They go through special training academies from a young age, honing their combat skills. When they turn 18, they volunteer for the Hunger Games."
"Volunteer?" Sirius interjected, a mix of confusion and disbelief on his face. "Why would anyone volunteer for that?"
"They see it as an honour," Alastor continued. "A chance to prove themselves, to win glory for their district. Careers are usually lethal in the arena, having been trained for this their whole lives."
"They train kids to fight to the death?" Gideon exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Alastor nodded solemnly. "It's a brutal system, but that's how it works. And the careers are usually the ones to watch out for."
As Gideon, Sirius, and Alastor sat down for lunch after their training session, Alastor took a moment to share some information about the other tributes. "Rodolphus Lestrange is a career," Alastor began.
"So how good are they?" Gideon asked, trying to gauge the competition.
"Obviously, they're pretty good. They win it almost every year," Alastor finished "But… "almost." added Trelawney.
"They can be arrogant, and arrogance can be a big problem," Alastor said, casting a meaningful glance at Sirius. Sensing the topic shifting, he added, "I hear you can shoot."
"I'm all right," Sirius replied modestly, not wanting to boast about his skills.
"No, she's better than 'all right.' My father buys her squirrels. He says she hits them in the eye every time," Gideon chimed in with a proud smile, looking at Sirius.
As the trio continued their lunch, Gideon's pride in Sirius's skills became apparent.
"Gideon's strong," Sirius declared, earning a puzzled look from Gideon.
"What?" Gideon questioned.
"He can throw a 100-pound sack of flour right over his head. I've seen it," Sirius explained, giving Alastor a significant look.
Gideon, realising the discussion had shifted to him, shrugged modestly. "Okay, well, I'm not gonna kill anyone with a sack of flour, am I?" he asked, glancing between Sirius, Alastor, and Trelawney.
"No, but you might have a better chance of winning if somebody comes after you with a knife," Sirius remarked, offering a practical perspective.
"I have no chance of winning! None! Alright?" Gideon's frustration became evident as his voice rose, expressing the overwhelming pressure and despair he felt.
Meanwhile, Alastor and Trelawney continued eating and drinking wine, observing the exchange between Sirius and Gideon. Trelawney, always sensitive to the emotional undertones, noted, "It's true, everybody knows it."
Gideon sighed, revealing a deeper layer of vulnerability. "You know what my mother said?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Sirius. "She said District Twelve might finally have a winner, but she wasn't talking about me. She was talking about you."
Gideon, unable to stomach the weight of the situation, abruptly stood from the table. "I'm not very hungry," he stated before leaving.