I think I enjoy writing Oneshots as much as I enjoy reading them. A few lines have been stolen from Hunger Games, don't get a heart attack. Hope you enjoy this load of *insert comment*. Any tips, corrections and comments are appreciated but please tone down the flames.

Disclaimer: The Hunger Game Franchise does not belong to me, I'm just having fun…

*Cookies for whoever guesses the crisis starting at the end…

…The Death Games…

"It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart…"

- Finnick Odair (HG)

Harry James Potter bowed his head ever so slightly, tilting it at the precise angle that made it impossible for the cameras to catch more than his messy black hair, pale skin and the shape of his tall form. One of the big screens showed him for a moment before focusing on the girl behind him. It was a dangerous game he danced, had been dancing for the past seventeen years but not for him, no, nothing was too dangerous for him to take on but it was dangerous for District Twelve, the one he was living in.

His cousin, Dudley Dursley had approached him a year before his death, explaining everything about the Capitol, the Districts, the Rebellion and, of course, The Hunger Games. And it was because of all that, especially the last, that he had placed himself undercover for seventeen years, creating a baby golem and having it grow up looking and behaving exactly how Harry wanted it to. But now, he had replaced the golem with his true self and it was the Reaping where one girl and one boy between the ages of nine and eighteen would be chosen to fight against twenty three others for their lives in an arena.

Entertainment.

That was what Dudley had called it. Entertainment for the Muggles.

For not the first time, Harry swore the Ministry of Magic's decision to completely close themselves off from the Muggle world to recover from the terror of Lord Voldemort's reign. There was a reason things like this didn't happen for long in history, the wizards and witches always stepped in.

But Dudley had told Harry he had lost his ten year old daughter to this Game and that pissed Harry of on so many levels especially given that the girl had been magical and blood related to him. If only she had made it through one more year without getting Reaped she would have been invited to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and been held safely in the community of magic.

Harry rolled his shoulders, offering his hand to be pricked and printing a fingerprint in blood on the paper. He knew lots of small children, not his own, but his friends'. No, he had given up any thought of a normal life when it was proven being the Master of Death made him immortal and of a slightly altered species. But it was an alteration enough that he couldn't have children. And so he worked for the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable with the second highest ranking. It worked for him, he didn't want to be the Head of Department but didn't want to be commanded around.

Sighing, he joined the lines of silent children divided by an isle into girls and boys.

Looking up through hooded eyes he waited for the woman with an eccentric hairstyle, insane fashion choice and pink lashes to pick the names. The video was already imprinted into the back of his mind and washed over him as he cast a spell onto the bowl with the boys' names. Every paper changed to his name, Harry Evans.

"Anita Riles." The woman called and a short thirteen year old girl with a well of lush brown curls and wide grey eyes was shakily escorted onto the platform. Moving to the next bowl, the woman put her hand in and ran her fingers over the tips, building the suspense. Finally, she pulled out a name, walked to the microphone, opened the paper and called the name he was waiting for. "Harry Evans."

Once again, Harry bowed his head, face blank but poisonous emerald eyes flashing with pleasure and anticipation. He had waited for this moment for too long. Four PeaceKeepers dressed in all white with heavy boots and helmets surrounded him as he made his way up. "Shake hands."

Harry raised his eyes and with a regal poise, took Anita's hand and tenderly shook it, pumping protective and calming magic into her. He took in the immediate straightening of her shoulders, lift of her head and calmness of her eye that had been twitching almost violently.

The seventy second Hunger Games would be the last.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

He snorted lightly. He didn't need favor, he had all he needed.

"Tick, tock…"

-Wiress (HG)

"You need sponsors which means you have to get people to like you." William Boride told them, shoving a hand through his shaggy golden-brown hair before sipping at his wine. "When you're out there, you'll need things like medicine, matches, food, rope… anything, and those things will mean the difference between life and death sent by sponsors."

William took in the pair with cunning hazel eyes. He noticed the way Anita, despite being nervous and unsure, soaked up his words, unconsciously keeping a small hand on her partner's knee, almost as if she thought he could comfort or protect her. In contrast, the boy from District Twelve looked almost bored, twisting a flexible metal snake through his fingers. William could almost swear it was alive.

He would have been irked at the disrespect so bluntly shown to him, a previous tribute who had won when he was trying to help them had he not seen the way Harry Evans carried himself. Not even the Tributes from District One and Two that trained their whole lives and then volunteered walked the way he did. It was more of a predatory prowl than anything else. Sighing, he focused on Anita whose eyes had flickered out of one of the glass walls of their penthouse. "In other words, make as many friends as possible. The two of you made a brilliant impression at the presentation of the Tributes. I must say, Sienna did a brilliant job with the scales and metal pieces. It looked faintly medieval and terrifying at the same time. Now, you will have to impress the audience and acquire possible sponsors tomorrow when…"

"It is our choices...that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities…"

- Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

They were kids, all practicing and learning how to survive to fulfill a stupid Game. Harry easily parried the sword and, with an intricate twist of his wrist, sent his opponents blade spinning through the air to slam into the heart of a dummy.

His trainer blinked, shock clear before nodding with a small smile.

Harry sighed and then walked to watch as Anita learned how to light a fire. They would make it through this, even the timid Lisa from District Six and the arrogant bastard Donald from One. A ten year old girl was painting pieces of rock onto her leg, blending in. "You have so much talent."

She looked up and Harry immediately knew who she was. Katie Noris, District Five, her sister was a muggleborn healer at Saint Mungos. "Thank you. You're Harry…" She hesitated, blue eyes flickering about before leaning forward, her sheet of straight brown hair shielding her lips from the camera view. "You're Harry Potter."

He blinked, staring at her. Slowly, he magically reached out and was met with a well of raw magical power in her. Like the Creevy brothers he had known, these siblings were both magical. "Yes, yes I am."

"You'll save us?" She asked.

Harry grinned, picking up the brush and handing it to her. "What do you think?"

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever…"

- Peeta Mellark (HG)

"Say hello to Harry Evans!" The blue haired presenter roared to the cheering crowd as Harry stepped out of the shadows and onto the stage, amicably shaking Caesar Flickerman's hand. "Welcome Harry, tell me something, what inspired you to ride in with a snake?"

Harry relaxed and flashed a wicked grin that had ladies sighing dreamily. He was a master at this. "I suppose because I have an affinity for them."

"You do, do you?" Caesar looked deliberately curious but even his dark eyes flickered with cautiousness. Even the insane knew not to mess with snakes. "What if we brought up a snake here? Would you tame it?"

Seriously? Was it that simple? Harry made a mental note to Draco Malfoy, ex-nemesis now fellow plotter, for slipping that idea into the presenter's mind. "Of course. What kind do you have?"

Caesar stood, his nervousness well hidden and waved a hand to the side. Two men walked onto the stage with a large rectangular crate and placed it down before walking out. The crowd was silent. Caesar dramatically reached down and lifted the wooden cover of a glass box.

Harry wordlessly arched a brow, almost amused at Caesar's surprised expression when he didn't so much as flinch at the sight of a giant bright purple and red snake that violently hissed inside it's tank.

"For those of you who don't know." Caesar called to the stunned audience. "This is an Azrael Taipan genetically grown to be thrice as poisonous as an Inland Taipan, faster than a hummingbird and stronger than an ox. Let's see if Harry's is up to it, shall we?" He gave a mocking bow.

Slowly, Harry stood, shrugging of his suit's black jacket onto the round white chair before stepping up next to the tank as Caesar cautiously backed away. He pushed off the lid.

Immediately the creature stuck, giant fangs coated in sickly yellowish black poison gleaming. Harry almost laughed as his brain shifted reality five times slower. It was almost as if it was normal speed when he knocked away the diamond shaped head, tossed the body over his shoulders and hissed a soft command. ᵴStop!ᵴ

The snake felt limp, obeying its master.

Caesar gaped, the crowd frozen.

Harry laughed.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor..."

- Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

50, 49, 48, 47…

Taking in a deep breath, Harry paused, standing on his platform as the children around him all tensed, ready to run to the center. He didn't care, the well of probably important survival supplies in the middle of the green field wouldn't help him. The countdown continued.

...42, 41, 40, 39…

It was there, his magic filled him, sparks flashing in the inners of his palm, unnoticed by the high-strung tributes. He stood tall, proud and calm in a sea of tension. A few tributes glanced at him, unsettled by his stillness.

…34, 33, 32, 31…

He rolled his shoulders, opening his previously closed eyes and turning them upwards to focused on the almost unseen dome that surrounded them, caged them. To his magically infused eyes, he saw the flickering screen, the fakeness, the bars. He turned his eyes to the closest camera.

…26, 25, 24, 23…

The technicians didn't notice the suddenly charged air as a camera zoomed in on a pair of brilliant emerald eyes. Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane frowned, eyes flickering towards that little screen, meeting the blazing glare. A thump began to form between his eyes. He felt hot, bothered. Reaching up, he touched the sudden wetness above his mouth. His finger came away with blood.

…17, 16, 15, 14…

Harry slowly smirked, a chuckle leaving him, he crossed his ankles and plopped down. All the tributes looked at him now, the cameras on him. He reached into his sleeve and withdrew a bar of chocolate. It shouldn't have been on him, they had searched him. The wonders of magic. In a room, the Head Unspeakable rolled his eyes, shaking his head while Harry's best friends, Hermione Granger and her husband Ronald Weasley laughed. It was a Marauder thing to do.

…9, 8, 7, 6…

He licked his lips of the chocolate, closing the remaining and placing it on the platform before standing again. "No one touch it." He stretched, cracking his bones before smiling wildly. "Four. Three. Two. One."

Everything went dark.

Unseen, Unspeakables appeared, snatching away the tributes before methodically clearing the entire dome until it was only the white floors with a round black platform holding a chocolate and a single camera that projected to the world only darkness. Magic truly was wondrous.

In a garden, Harry appeared silently. An old, small, thin man, with paper-white hair and thick lips that seem pulled across his face stood cutting the dead roses of a white bush. His gloved hands were steady and confident, his age somewhere in the seventies not affecting him.

"President Coriolanus Snow." Harry murmured, leaning against a stone bench. His clothing had shifted, the uniform previously presented to him having changed into a neat, formal black suit with a rich crimson tie. "I have wanted to meet you for some time now." The man turned, scissors dropping. There was no surprise on his face, but Harry picked up the small widening of his eyes and the hitched breath as he was recognized as a tribute. "Unfortunately, my boss had requested me to watch over the game, the proceedings, get in and then kill you."

Snow paused, holding a white rose on a shot stem that he had cut in his disconcert. "What do you want, Mr Evans?"

"I want a lot of things." Harry told him, sitting down and gesturing for the man to join him. "I want a cup of cappuccino, I want a dragon, I want to bake the cake for this New Year's party instead of Ginny but Mrs Weasley, Gin's mum, refuses to let me." He reached out and picked up the rose Snow had dropped when sitting down. "I also want to rip your heart out and feed it to you."

Before Snow's eyes, the soft white petals began to turn red from the inside out. Harry placed in his white shirt pocket, above his heart. The crimson reached the tips of the flower and a drop pooled at the edge. It plummeted and a splash of red appeared on his shirt. "But I don't have the time for that."

Harry leaned forward, whispering in the man's ear. "Death will deal with you."

"I don't think so." Snow hissed, his hand slamming an injection containing a deadly poison straight into Harry's veins.

The Master of Death leaned back, blinking down at his pale hand. He shoved up his sleeve, watching as his veins turned black. He chuckled. "Where in Merlin's name did you find Basilisk venom?"

"You should be dead." Snow exclaimed, watching as his most lethal, most expensive, most treasured poison was so casually brushed away.

"No." Harry corrected, looking almost amused. "You should be."

Snow gasped, hands reaching up to claw at his throat before he fell to the ground, gasping as the air was sucked out of his lungs. Harry unconcernedly pluck the rose form the dying man's pocket and vanished. He reappeared on the platform and waved a hand. The lights went on.

"Thank you for keeping my chocolate." He told the camera, exchanging the chocolate and bloody rose. The chaos that would rage through the Muggle world after this stunt would be brilliant and that wasn't even including the 'business' the DoM would now have with the Muggle world. They would fear, and for good reason, whoever and whatever was out there. The theories that would sprout, especially from reporters were bound to be interesting. With a last, low bow to his audience, he vanished, his last words echoing behind eerily. "Have a nice day, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

"It is important to fight and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay though never quite eradicated…"

- Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore (HP)

"We have a mission." The Head Unspeakable said, grey eyes focusing on his oldest, deadliest, and most powerful Unspeakable. "The mortals have invented and released a virus that works like Necromancy, they wish to send you in."

Harry James Potter, aged five hundred and sixty nine, turned away from the view of the Caribbean he had been enjoying through the enchanted window. "Is it time to save the world already?"

…The End…