The President
Harry
Their Capitol crew from the Hunger Games will arrive today, at noon, to make them over for the Victory Tour.
Harry and Katniss are doing their best not to think about it, hunting and gathering and snaring in the woods outside District 12. Harry has taken the place of the Weasley twins, who are now working in the mines with Bill and Charlie. Katniss offered to teach Ron, but he seemed sullen and uninterested, so she and Harry go alone almost every morning. The twins join them most Sundays.
Over the months since the games, Harry has slowly but surely re-learned how to walk, run, and even climb with his prosthetic. The Capitol device is so responsive that he's able to move almost as well as he did before – and during – the Games.
Katniss has even rewarded Harry's progress with the bow she’d previously allowed the twins to use, and shooting lessons. She tells him he's a natural. He’s gotten nearly as good as she is with it. It makes up for the fact that he doesn’t have the twins’ flair for snares.
They don’t need the food, as Victors, but the Weasleys do. The Weasley boys are proud, and reluctant to accept anything they view as “charity”, but as long as they’re careful to show up when the elder boys are in the mines, Molly takes what Katniss and Harry bring in. Harry tried to get the Weasleys assigned to the Dursleys’ old bakery, but the Capitol picked some Town family instead.
Harry chuckled when he learned the Capitol painted the Weasleys as Katniss’s “cousins” even though they look nothing alike. Apparently, the twins are too attractive to be best friends with the girl who’s supposed to be madly in love with Harry. Someone was worried there’d be rumors of “threesomes” or some shit. It’s ridiculous. There’s nothing but brotherly affection between Fred and George and Katniss.
He should know – the two of them seem to have made it their mission to make sure Harry is “good enough for their little sister.” Molly, Bill, Charlie, and even Percy have embraced him wholeheartedly, making him feel like part of the family. Ron is probably jealous of him; Ginny is definitely jealous of Katniss, which is adorable.
They stop by Katniss’s old house on their way to the Weasleys’ so Katniss can swap out her boots and father’s hunting jacket for the machine-made clothes more befitting a Victor. Prim’s cat, Crookshanks, shows up, still thinking of the little hut as his home. Katniss calls him ugly, but still feeds and pets him. Crookshanks seems to prefer Harry, trying to curl up on his lap to keep them from leaving.
Molly invites them in for tea when they arrive. Harry now knows that the same explosion that killed Katniss’s father, also killed Molly’s husband, Arthur, nearly six years ago now. From then on, the eldest underage Weasley kid signed up for Tesserae. The twins decided to take turns for the two years between Percy's coming of age and theirs. Now it’s Ron’s turn. Katniss is determined not to let him take on that responsibility.
Their next stop is the Hob. As it turns out, the people who frequent the black market were the ones who started the boycott on the Dursleys, at Ma Rosmerta’s insistence. He was already grateful to her for all the times she let him hide under her counter, slipping him scraps and bones to gnaw like a beloved pet. Now, he’s adopted her as his grandmother.
She also started up a collection for Katniss’s sponsor gifts. Harry owes her more than he can ever repay.
It’s odd, being able to actually buy things at the Hob now. It’s odd having money. He spends it all over the place, at the Hob and in town. Today, he and Katniss try and hit as many stalls as possible, stocking up on necessities. This also includes a stop at Aberforth’s for white liquor – not for them, but for Remus.
He ran out a few weeks ago and started going through withdrawals. The shaking and screaming and hallucinations were terrifying. Since then, they’ve both been stockpiling as much as they can.
The Head Peacekeeper, Dolohov, sees them at Aberforth’s and frowns. “That shit’s too strong for kids,” he says, and he would know. He drinks almost as much as Remus.
“My mother uses it as antiseptic,” Katniss says with a shrug.
They stop at Ma Rosmerta’s stall, dropping coins in her jar and hopping on the counter to eat bowls of her soup-of-the-day. Peacekeeper Pettigrew fidgets nearby, looking like he wants to talk to them, but Harry shoots him a glare and he scurries off. The man leers at Katniss far too often for Harry to want him anywhere near her.
Ma Rosmerta shoos them off, urging them not to be late. It starts snowing on the walk back. Harry wraps an arm around Katniss’s shoulders; hers wraps around his waist. This and hand-holding have become an instinctive source of comfort for them both.
Before they head to Katniss’s house, they stop by Remus’s across the way, to wake him up as requested. The house is disgusting – Remus won’t hire a housekeeper, but Harry is about ready to do it himself. No one should live in such filth.
“He sleeps with a knife,” Harry reminds Katniss, opening a window in the kitchen to air out the stench. She nods, starts a pot of coffee, and then fills a basin with ice water. Harry grins and follows her into the sitting room, where Remus is, as usual, passed out cold. Harry opens another window and takes a seat on the sill to watch the show.
Katniss dumps the water on Remus’s head and jumps away. Sure enough, he springs up at once, knife in hand, spluttering and swearing like only an old Gamer can. “Fucking assholes, what the fuck is wrong with you dickfaces, can’t you let a bastard sleep in odds-damned peace?”
“You told us to wake you at 11,” Katniss says calmly.
Remus blinks. “I did?”
“Yup,” says Harry.
He looks thoughtful. “So why am I wet?”
“It’s the only surefire way to wake you up,” Katniss smirks at him. “If you wanted to be pampered, you should’ve asked my mother.”
Her mother isn’t exactly the pampering type, but she’s certainly more indulgent when it comes to Remus. He helped keep her daughter and her “future son-in-law” (Harry can’t help but blush every time she calls him that, and Katniss always hides her face in her hands) alive in the Arena, after all. The only thing she seems to find objectionable about him is his drinking.
“Take a bath, Remus,” Katniss tosses over her shoulder as they leave.
“You already gave me one, you little shit!” he shouts back. Harry laughs.
When they reach Katniss’s house, they’re just taking off their shoes when Katniss’s mother rushes in, blocking the doorway. Her face is pale. She’s shaking. Something is wrong.
“Did you two have a nice walk?” she asks, her voice quivering with anxiety.
“Walk?” asks Katniss – then she spots the Capitol man behind Mrs. Everdeen. Yes, as far as this person is aware, they’ve been on a walk, not hunting illegally or trading at the black market. “It’s getting pretty slippery out there, it was more like skating.” Good. Katniss is playing along.
“There’s someone to see you,” says Mrs. Everdeen.
“I thought they were due at noon,” Harry says, eyeing the Capitol suit.
“No, it’s–” Katniss’s mom begins, but the besuited man cuts her off.
“This way please, Ms. Everdeen, Mr. Potter.” It’s utterly presumptuous of him to lead Katniss through her own home, but they follow him anyway.
“Probably more tour details,” Katniss tries to reassure her mother. Harry doesn’t think it works.
It’s obvious why as soon as they enter the study. Fucking Tom Riddle is there. The odds-damned President.
They’re in serious trouble.
The door closes behind them. They don’t sit. The president’s red, snake-like eyes move from Katniss, to Harry, and back again. “Let’s make things simple: I won’t lie to the two of you, and you won’t lie to me, because if you do, I will know. Does that sound acceptable?” His voice even sounds like a snake, hissing on the esses.
“Acceptable,” Harry drawls, taking Katniss’s hand. She just nods.
“Wonderful. I told my advisors you would be amenable. After all, you went to so much trouble to preserve your lives. And of course, you both have families to consider… Mrs. Eveerdeen, young Primrose, and all those… ah, cousins.”
Harry gulps. Katniss definitely has more people to protect than he does, and the President is obviously aware that the Weasleys aren’t blood-related to her. Harry considers them family too, though, and he actually has gotten closer with his real cousin since Dudley moved in with him. They’re not brotherly, exactly, but they’re friendly enough that Harry does truly care about his roommate.
“Please, take a seat,” Riddle gestures to the straight-backed chairs in front of the desk. He takes the “big chair” behind it, clearly a power move. They oblige him, both on the edge of their seats, hands still clasped tightly. The President steeples his fingers, staring at them across the desk.
“I have a… problem, I suppose you could say,” he begins, “a problem that began with a handful of nightlock berries.” Of course. That trick with the berries is sure to haunt them for the rest of their lives. However long or short that might be.
“If Cornelius Fudge had possessed a modicum of sense, he would have allowed you to complete your little suicide pact – or killed you both himself. Unfortunately, he had quite the… sentimental streak. So here we are. Can you guess where Fudge is?”
They both nod, Katniss looking a bit green. The past tense is as revealing as Riddle’s tone. Cornelius Fudge has been executed.
“So,” Riddle continues, “there was nothing for it but to allow the scenario to play out. And you’ve both performed admirably, with the ‘hopelessly in love’ act. The citizens of the Capitol are quite enamored with you. However, not everyone in the Districts shares their view.”
Harry keeps his expression carefully blank, but Katniss looks bewildered. President Riddle explains, “You won’t know this, of course, as you have no access to information about the current state of Panem outside your District. In several others, people have taken your little trick as an act of defiance, not of love. If two children from the poorest District can defy the might of the Capitol without repercussions, who’s to say they can’t do the same?
“Who’s to say they can’t, for example, begin an uprising?” His glare turns venomous.
“There’s been uprisings?” Katniss asks, and Harry catches the glimmer of hope in her eyes, so he’s sure Riddle does too. That’s not going to help their case.
“Not quite, but they’ll soon begin if something does not change,” the President says, adopting a tone of exasperation. He rubs his brow. “Uprisings have been known to lead to revolution. Revolution leads to deaths, massacres, untenable living conditions, the horrors of war. Whatever issues anyone may have with the Capitol’s rule, believe me when I tell you that the collapse of our system would be a far worse outcome.”
Katniss, stupidly, says, “The system must be very fragile, if a handful of berries could collapse it.” Harry resists the urge to groan.
He does not like the look Riddle gives her at all, nor how long it takes him to say, “It is fragile, though not in the way that you’re implying.”
The Capitol suit knocks on the door and pokes his head in. “Her mother is asking if you want tea.”
“Yes, thank you,” says the President, and the door opens for Katniss’s mother with the tea tray, complete with some of Dudley’s cookies. He’s actually a decent baker. Riddle gestures for her to place it on the desk with a false smile. “You wouldn’t believe how often citizens forget that Presidents do eat food, just as they do.”
It does seem to relax Katniss’s mother. “Can I offer you anything else? I’d be happy to cook something more substantial,” she says.
“No, thank you, this is perfect,” he says in a clear dismissal. Katniss’s mother shoots her daughter a concerned glance before leaving. The President examines the cookies. Now that Vernon isn't around to call him a “nancy boy” for it, Dudley has gotten remarkably good with delicate icing designs. “Your work?” Riddle asks Harry.
“My cousin Dudley’s,” Harry grits out.
Riddle nods, sipping his tea, staring at them expectantly. “We didn’t mean to start an uprising,” Katniss tells him after the silence drags on too long for her.
“Oh, I believe you, but nevertheless, the ‘kids on fire’ have started a spark that, if not extinguished, may grow into an inferno that consumes our beloved Panem,” Riddle says.
“So why not just kill us?” Harry asks. “Arrange an accident, stop the spark.”
“I’m afraid you may not be aware of the concept of a martyr, with your limited education,” Riddle's voice drips with condescension, “but unfortunately, an execution or thinly-veiled ‘accident’ may only serve to fan the flames.”
“Then tell us what you want us to do,” says Katniss. “We’ll comply.” Harry nods along. They’ll do anything to protect the people they care about, most of all each other.
“Splendid,” says Riddle, setting his tea down and leaning back in the chair. “What I expect is for you to convince the country on this tour that, rather than defying the Capitol, you were simply driven mad by love to commit a desperate act. In fact, your aim should be to convince me.”
With that, he rises from the chair – and walks out the door.