Training
Katniss
They’ve just finished dinner, and Katniss is feeling a bit tipsy from the wine, when a redheaded girl brings in a cake. She’s trying not to look at her too closely, reminded of the Weasleys, when the girl sets the cake on fire. Unable to help her trepidation, Katniss looks up and blurts, “What makes it burn? Is it alcohol? That’s the last thing I wa– oh!” She blinks. Stares. “I know you!”
The girl runs off and Bagman chastises her for claiming to know an Avox – and Lupin has to explain what an Avox is – while Katniss is still trying to place the face in her memory. It takes Lupin saying the word “traitor” to remind her of that day in the woods with the Weasley twins. She’s too tipsy and distracted to really think of a good excuse; thankfully, Harry jumps to her rescue.
“Ginny Weasley,” he says easily, looking cool as a cucumber, “she’s a dead ringer for Ginny. I can definitely see why you’d mix them up.” He smirks at her, and she gives him a grateful nod for the cover.
Sure, Ginny and the Avox girl are both redheads, but Ginny is a fiery ginger with a peaches-and-cream complexion, more freckles than there are stars in the sky, and still has baby fat at 11 years old. The Avox girl, with her auburn locks, porcelain skin, and fine features has about as much in common with Ginny as Harry. “Of course, that’s who I was thinking of. It must be the hair,” she says anyway.
Lupin, as familiar with the Weasleys as pretty much everyone in 12, jumps on the bandwagon regardless, and the table relaxes.
Later, on their way back to their rooms, Harry places a gentle hand on Katniss’s elbow and gives her a serious look, like he’s trying to communicate through the sheer intensity of green. “Have you been on the roof yet?” She shakes her head. “Malkin showed me. You can see the whole city from up there, it’s beautiful. It’s a bit loud though, with the wind and the traffic and all,” and his stare gets more intense. Odds, his eyes are really fucking green.
She blinks a few times before catching on to what he’s saying – they’re almost definitely under surveillance, but the background noise on the roof means they can probably talk without being overheard. “Can we just go up?”
He nods and leads her up a flight of stairs to a dome-shaped room and through a door to the outside. The view truly is breathtaking. Unfortunately, all the twinkling lights just make her think of the constant blackouts back in 12. Honestly, the power is off more than it’s on back home.
They stare over the railing in silence for a few moments before she has to break it, even though it’s not really awkward. “Why do they let us up here? I think some tributes would be pretty thrilled to jump,” she murmurs darkly.
He huffs a laugh, clearly sharing her morbid sense of humor. “I asked Madam Malkin the same thing, actually. You can’t,” he reaches his hand out, and a spark of electricity seems to bounce it back in. “Force field throws you back.”
“Always worried about our safety,” she says. Right up until we fight to the death, she doesn’t add. The thought of surveillance is still itching under her skin. “Do you think we’re being taped?”
“Probably,” he admits. “Let me show you the garden.” His reasoning and the source of the mysterious tinkling sound around them become clear when she sees the garden is full of wind chimes. There is absolutely no way their words will be easily distinguishable to any recording equipment here.
Harry is staring at her from where he leans against a tree, clearly expecting her to explain her slip-up with the Avox earlier. “We were hunting, in the woods, in a blind, waiting for game,” she whispers.
“Your father?” he murmurs in return.
“The Weasley twins. All the birds just went silent, except one – it was like a warning call. And then we saw her. Them. A boy, and that girl, I’m sure it was her. They were dressed in rags. You could tell they hadn’t slept or eaten much. They were running like you do from your cousin,” she can’t help but quip. He smirks.
“Later, the twins and I kept wondering if we could’ve helped them, but it happened so fast. The hovercraft appeared like magic, completely silent, and they saw it. It grabbed the girl with a net, then just shot a spear through the boy and hauled him up too. I think she screamed his name, but he was dead, there was too much blood. Then the ‘craft vanished. All in about ten seconds.”
“They didn’t see you?” Harry whispers.
“We had our blind set up under a shelf of rock, I don’t think the hovercraft spotted us or I wouldn’t be here,” but the girl did, she adds to herself. They’d locked eyes and the girl had screamed “help”. It might’ve been her last word.
Harry’s arm is suddenly winding around her shoulders. She tenses up, still unsure if this is a strategy or not, but decides to just accept the warmth and the comfort. Maybe if they’re playing friends for the camera, this is the way to go.
“Where do you think they were from?” he breathes, barely needing to use his vocal cords with how close they are.
“They looked Capitol.”
He nods. “Any idea where they were headed?”
“None.” If District 13 weren’t a radioactive ruin, she’d say they were headed in that direction, but clearly, that wasn’t an option. “Also no idea why they’d leave this place.” Lupin said they made Avoxes out of traitors, but what citizen of the Capitol would betray the lap of luxury?
“I would,” Harry whispers impossibly quietly. “The food and the clothes and everything – none of it’s real. They’ve never had to work for it. They’ve never known what it’s like to go without.”
They stand for a few minutes, him with his arm around her, her in silent contemplation, before he asks in a more normal volume, “The Weasley twins. They the ones I saw helping Prim at the Reaping?”
“Yeah, you know ‘em?” she asks.
“Not really. A lot of the girls talk about them at school. Boys too,” he smirks. Smirking must be his favorite expression.
“The Weasleys are like family. Molly might as well have adopted me and Prim after our dad died.” In the same mining accident as her husband, Arthur.
“Ron came to visit me, in the Justice Building.”
Katniss whips her head around. This is news to her. “W-why?”
“To ask me to keep you safe,” he whispers again.
Katniss frowns. “He shouldn’t have done that.” Harry sighs.
“He didn’t have to.”
Harry
They’re just finishing breakfast the morning after the parade, when Lupin decides to enter “teacher mode” and asks if Harry and Katniss want to be trained together or separately.
“Why would you coach us separately?” asks Katniss.
“If you have skills you’d rather keep secret, for example,” says Lupin.
Katniss and Harry exchange looks. “I already know you can shoot, and you know I can run. So,” he shrugs, “guess there’s not much point in hiding.”
Lupin grins at their agreement. “Excellent! So; Katniss, you can shoot, and Harry, you can run. Can you both elaborate on that for me?”
“Harry’s always running from his cousin,” Katniss says before Harry can respond, “Dudley’s always trying to pick a fight, but pretty much never catches him. And you saw him dodge that swing yesterday,” she smirks at Harry. He blushes.
“Yeah, well, everyone at the Hob knows how well you can track and hunt and shoot. I think there’s a significant percentage of District 12 that has eaten your kills in one form or another.” Her answering blush is the perfect retribution.
“What are you doing?” she asks suspiciously.
Harry has no idea why she’s suspicious since she started the compliment-fest, so he just shrugs. "I'm also good at hiding when there's nowhere to run. I can fit in some pretty tight spaces," he grins cheekily at Lupin.
"I can climb as well as hunt," says Katniss, "and move pretty much silently in the woods."
Alright, so it's a brag-fest now. "In gym class, I can throw and catch better than just about anyone. I never miss."
"I can set traps and snares, but I'm not as good as the Weasley twins."
"I can cook and bake, but I don't think that's going to help me much."
Katniss laughs. "Oh just imagine, Harry Potter, cooking the competition into pies and serving them up at the Cornucopia!"
The corner of Lupin's mouth twitches like he wants to laugh too. "You'd be surprised what kinds of skills come in handy in the Arena. Regardless, Katniss, you should wait until your private session with the Gamemakers to reveal your skills with a bow. It might not guarantee that they'll put a bow in the Cornucopia, but either way, you shouldn't show your hand to the other tributes.
"Harry, the same goes for running. Both of you, use the public training to learn a few things you don't already know. Save the showing off for the private sessions."
"And the Arena," Harry adds.
Lupin's eyes are foggy and distant. "And the Arena.”
***
They’re the last ones to arrive in the training rooms even though they’re early. As soon as they join the circle of tributes, a stern woman named McGonagall starts explaining the various stations and rules. Harry takes the opportunity to scope out the competition while he’s listening.
He’s definitely the smallest boy there, and Katniss is probably in the bottom half of the class in terms of both weight and height. There’s signs of chronic malnutrition in most of the kids, except the Careers of course. And Katniss, who is also eyeing the other tributes warily. As McGonagall wraps up her instructions, he nudges her.
“Where d’you want to start?” he asks. She looks around.
“Suppose we could learn to tie knots.”
Harry scoffs. “I know Lupin said we never know what skills will come in handy, but I’d rather learn something directly related to fighting, eating, or healing if you don’t mind.” He scans the available stations. “Let’s try ‘edible plants’, I bet you could probably teach the instructor a thing or two.” Katniss mumbles something about her parents being the ones who know all the plants, but they head to the station anyway.
They spend the rest of the day rotating between stations, avoiding the weapons and sticking with survival skills. Katniss does end up excelling at identifying edible plants; the trainer, ironically called “Pomona Sprout”, seems very impressed. When they do eventually wind up at the knot-tying station, she spends an enjoyable hour chatting with little Trainer Flitwick about snares and the Weasley twins. Harry excels at camouflage, fire-starting, and even shelter- and hammock-making. Pretty much anything he can do with his hands.
On day two, Harry notices the girls from 10 and 11 are both following them. He nudges Katniss, interrupting her conversation with Slughorn about edible insects, and inclines his head toward their shadows.
“Rue and Luna,” he says softly.
She bites her lip. “Should we do anything about it?”
He shakes his head. He’s less inclined to believe those two pose any sort of threat, and more inclined to think it’s a tragedy they’re here at all. Luna seems more than a bit unstable, mentally, and Rue is just tiny.
With the two girls trailing them, they decide to take a chance on some of the weapons stations. Harry and Rue are both surprisingly good with slingshots, hitting the targets dead-center with every shot. All four of them can climb and navigate the ropes course well enough to have Trainer Hooch clapping for them on the ground.
During the lunch break, Harry takes a chance and waves the two girls over to join him and Katniss at their previously isolated table. Katniss shoots him a wary glance, but he just shrugs. They’re following them anyway; might as well get to know them better.
“So, Luna,” he says as she floats into a seat next to him, “tell us about District 10. What do you do for fun?”
“Oh, I love to just spend time with all the creatures,” she answers in her airy-fairy voice, wide eyes staring through him. “My best friends are the cows and the pigs, sometimes they let me ride them.”
No one seems to know how to respond to that statement, so Harry turns to Rue while Luna turns her face to the ceiling and starts humming. “What about you, Rue? What’s life like in 11?”
“Well, most of the year we spend the daylight hours working the fields. Since I can climb the trees, I usually help in the orchards. My siblings help too, sometimes, probably more once they’re older.” Her voice is musical, like a bird ready to burst into song any moment.
“You have a lot of siblings?” Katniss asks, seeming more comfortable with their lunch companions now.
“Yes, I’m the oldest of six.” Rue looks down at her plate, fiddling with her fork.
“My best friends back in 12, Fred and George, their family has 7 kids,” Katniss says, smiling nostalgically. This sparks a conversation about siblings, which is how they pass the rest of the lunch hour. Harry and Luna commiserate over not having any brothers or sisters – her because her mother died, and him because both his parents are gone.
The next day at lunch, where the four of them sit together again, the Gamemakers start calling tributes district-by-district for their private sessions. No one seems inclined to chat this time. Luna hums tunelessly, waving one hand through the air; Rue and Katniss fidget; Harry just spaces out.
When it’s finally just him and Katniss left, she breaks the silence with a blurted, “Run fast.”
Harry chuckles. “Shoot straight,” he quips back.
Finally, they call him. As soon as he enters the gym, he can see he’s going to have to do something spectacular to gain the Gamemakers’ attention – they’re more interested in the feast in front of them than in him. He rolls his shoulders.
He starts off with a lap around the room at an all-out sprint, passing as close to the Gamemakers as he dares. A few of them look mildly impressed before they turn back to their meal. He darts up a climbing wall and back down in seconds; they’re still barely paying attention. Finally, he growls in frustration and asks, “Can I get a sparring partner?”
There are punching bags and dummies galore, of course, but he doesn’t want to hit something, he needs someone trying to hit him.
The Gamemakers exchange confused looks, and Cornelius Fudge, the head Gamemaker, calls in Trainer McGonagall. All eyes are on them as she faces off with him on a mat at the center of the room.
“Just, y’know, try to hit me,” he says, resisting the urge to shove his hands in his pockets.
She nods and immediately starts throwing punches. He dodges easily. Her eyes widen in surprise, and she doubles down, trying to use her knees and feet as well as her fists and elbows. He spins, ducks, twirls, and rolls out of the way of every blow. She’s a professional, but she can’t land a single hit. Dudley trained him well for this. He’s been in “fights” with as many as eight teenage boxers before, a single opponent is nothing.
Finally, she stops, out of breath. He’s breathing hard too, but tries not to show it. Fudge dismisses him with a quiet “Thank you, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall gives him a nod, and he heads up to their floor to wait for Katniss.