A/N: This is my first attempt at a Hunger Games / Harry Potter crossover, so hopefully it won't be too terrible...

I've never attempted any HP writing before, so hopefully that won't be too hit-and-miss, but I reckon I've spent enough time working on THG fanfics to have a reasonable knack of getting that part of this story right, at least!

I'm sure this type of story has been attempted many times before, so I'm going to try and keep it as interesting as I can, and hopefully throw in a few twists along the way!

Concerning the story itself, I think the only information you need to know before this chapter is that it is set in late April 1997, which in Harry Potter time puts it close to the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, shortly after Harry acquires Professor Slughorn's memory and works out that Voldemort has six horcruxes, with the help of Professor Dumbledore. Prior to this chapter, everything is in canon with the original Harry Potter novels.

Other than that, I'm sure everything will be fairly self-explanatory, and I hope that you enjoy the chapter! :)

Chapter One

The evenings were getting longer. It had felt like a long winter, but Harry was finally starting to notice the sun pouring into the common room later and later in the evenings, so much so on this particular April evening that nobody had even bothered to put the lights on.

It had been a boring Saturday, as Saturdays went. Hours had been slipping by without anything being accomplished, and Harry had spent most of the day moping around the Gryffindor common room, knowing that he couldn't really commit to doing anything while he was still waiting on Professor Dumbledore.

It had been decided at short notice for the teachers to hold one-on-one mentoring sessions for the sixth-years that weekend. Harry was used to these sessions by now; ten minutes stuck in a room with Professor McGonagall, telling him all the usual comments about how he was on course for good grades in Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and that he needed to put more work in for Potions class, if he really did want to become an Auror.

Of course, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince, she couldn't reprimand him about his Potions grade anymore. Apart from one slip-up in November, he'd achieved Outstanding grades all year.

However, rather than the Heads of House conducting these mentoring sessions, today all the sixth-years had to go and see Professor Dumbledore.

So there he was, sitting alone in an armchair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, absent-mindedly flicking through the Half-Blood Prince's Potions textbook because there was nothing better to do while he was waiting. Ron and Hermione had gone to see Dumbledore hours ago, but neither of them had returned to Gryffindor tower. Hermione was probably in the library and Ron... Well, Ron could be anywhere. Half an hour before he'd been tempted to search for them, but he knew that he was stuck in this limbo of waiting to be called for by Professor Dumbledore.

It had really infuriated him; a quiet Saturday late in the school year would be an excellent time to go and make another attempt and forcing the Room of Requirement to reveal whatever Draco Malfoy had been up to, spending hours upon hours hidden away for the past few weeks. Several times Harry had attempted to intercept Draco leaving the room, but he had never managed it.

Thinking of Draco Malfoy...

It was a pleasant evening, and so the common room was almost empty. There were only a half-dozen other students present; a group of third-years talking animatedly around a table on the far side of the room. Trusting the room to be empty enough, Harry pulled the Marauder's Map from his back pocket and opened it up, hiding it from view behind the cover of the Potions textbook. He hurriedly scanned the map for any presence of Draco Malfoy, but once again, he was off the map.

Great, Harry thought bitterly. Another opportunity wasted.

"Harry!"

Startled, Harry looked up to see Katie Bell, a seventh-year girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, staring down at him. Frantically, Harry placed his wand on the Marauder's Map, muttered a quick mischief managed, folded up the map within the Half-Blood Prince's textbook and gave the older girl his full attention.

"Did you even hear a word of what I just said?" Katie reprimanded him, hands on her hips.

"Er, I - no, I'm sorry, I completely zoned out," Harry apologised hurriedly.

"I could tell," Katie muttered as Harry got to his feet. "Anyway, Professor McGonagall told me to let you know Professor Dumbledore's ready to see you now."

"Right, thanks," Harry said, putting his copy of Advanced Potion-Making into his bag, and slinging it over his shoulder. "I'd better not keep him waiting," he added as he walked to the door, excusing himself from the conversation.

"Of course," Katie replied as Harry walked away from her across the common room before calling after him. "Harry! Remember we need to book some extra time on the Quidditch pitch on the next couple of weeks. To make sure I can get back up to speed with things again before the Ravenclaw game. It'll be my last one, remember?"

Harry gave Katie a small smile. It had been five an a half years since they had both played their first games for Gryffindor together, in a narrow win against Slytherin that still felt like just a couple of weeks ago to Harry.

"Definitely. I'll talk more about it later," he said, and then he was out the door.

"Come in."

It had only taken Harry five minutes to reach Professor Dumbledore's office; he knew the route through the castle well. There had been a time when Harry had been fascinated by all the mysterious objects and devices occupying the shelves and cupboards around the Headmaster's office, and been intrigued by the paintings of all the previous Hogwarts Headmasters that lined the walls, but that time was long past, and Harry barely even glanced around the room as he entered.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Harry said with a smile, introducing himself.

"Ah, Harry! I was beginning to think that we would be running out of time tonight. I'm afraid we are most terribly behind schedule. I hope I have not robbed you of an evening."

"Oh, not at all, professor," Harry lied, as he knew that none of this was Professor Dumbledore's fault.

"Very well," Dumbledore replied, and Harry started to notice that Dumbledore kept glancing around at the portraits on the walls; oddly, it seemed that all of them were present, for once. "Please, Harry, take a seat."

Harry sat down opposite Dumbledore at the desk in the centre of the room, which was covered in a great many papers and objects. No doubt Dumbledore had been busy all day.

"Many of the students I have seen today are not nearly as well known to me as you are, Harry, and so we shall keep this brief," Professor Dumbledore began, and Harry relaxed a little. Part of him had been worried he would be lectured for falling behind somewhere, or for getting into too much trouble with one of his teachers. He'd still never really mastered the art of sticking to the rules.

Professor Dumbledore pulled a sheet of paper out of the stack beside him and set it down on the between himself and Harry. On it, Harry could read his own marks for his classes this year.

"Let me see, Harry... Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions and Transfiguration... There is nothing here that gives me any cause for concern - indeed, you seem to be excelling this year! Keep working as you do, and I'll expect to see at least two or three Outstanding grades when you take your N.E.W.T. examinations next year," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Thank-you, professor," Harry said, positively cheered up now, despite wasting the day, because of how much faith Professor Dumbledore had in him.

"I would ask for you to try and keep yourself disciplined, but I fear that if you have learnt little in almost six years, there is little point in me continuing to lecture you about your misdemeanours now."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, and so was relieved when Professor Dumbledore stood up and said, "I'm sure that just about covers everything. I see little that I need to talk to you about your schoolwork, and we have so much time to discuss other matters that you are free to leave, if you please."

"Of course, professor," Harry replied. "I've got a busy few days ahead - actually, I need to go and speak to Professor McGonagall about booking more practice sessions for Quidditch..."

Never mind hunting down Draco Malfoy.

"I see. I cannot tell you how pleased I am that once again the Gryffindor Quidditch team is at full strength."

"Thank-you, professor," Harry replied, turning to leave.

"Oh, Harry, I almost forgot!" Professor Dumbledore called after him, just as hand reached the door handle. The Professor had stood up and had pulled a book out from a compartment in his desk.

"What is it, professor?" Harry asked.

"You may recall that, when we perused the memories of Professor Slughorn last week, Tom Riddle said that he had come across Horcruxes from reading about them in our school library." Dumbledore gave Harry a small, sad smile. "Of course, I had all books on Horcruxes removed from the library the moment I became Headmaster, but I didn't get rid of them." Dumbledore put the small book down on the desk. "This is the book that Tom Riddle read to first come across Horcruxes, all those years ago. I believe it might be useful for you to read through it, in case you feel you need any more explanation of what we are up against."

"Of course, I'll take it," Harry said, walking back into the room towards the desk, and Dumbledore stepped aside to let Harry get to the desk, glancing up once again at the portraits around the room.

Harry knew that there was something wrong the moment that his hand first touched the battered leather covering of the book, and felt the tell-tale tug behind his navel. Instantly memories of mazes and graveyards pushed to the front of his mind, but he quelled them for long enough to hear Dumbledore mutter quietly.

"I'm sorry."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he was already gone.

Harry came to on his back with a thud, the book flying from his hands, its job done. From the sound it made as it landed beside him, he was in a large enclosed space; a cave, perhaps.

Where am I?

Opening his eyes and sitting up, Harry took a look around. He was in a large, empty room, the size of a sports hall, although the painted concrete floor, white walls and the harsh artificial light coming from the ceiling suggested that the room normally had a different purpose. Around him, two dozen or so Hogwarts students sat around him in groups, talking in hushed whispers. It took him a moment to realise that they were all in his year.

"Harry!"

Harry turned around to find Ron beaming down at him, and relief flooded through him before panic took over as Hermione almost bowled him over, trapping him in a fierce hug.

"Easy, Hermione!" Harry said with a weak laugh as she drew away from him. Looking around, he noticed Neville Longbottom standing beside Ron, too. "What's going on here?"

"No idea, mate," Ron shrugged. "I've only been here - well, I don't really know how long it's been - but I wasn't the first. When I went to see Dumbledore this afternoon, he said he had something for me to help me practice for the Ravenclaw game. He gave me this little box, you see, but when I touched it, it was a portkey! Took me straight here, wherever here is," Ron said, looking around with disdain.

"So he's tricked all of us?"

"It certainly looks that way," Ron said bitterly.

"I didn't arrive long after Neville," Hermione added. "And there really weren't many of us here then. Every ten minutes or so, somebody else has turned up. I've been wondering how long it was going to be before you got here."

"Yeah, and you were getting bloody nervous about what was taking him so long," Ron quipped, and Hermione glared at him.

"So where actually are we?" Harry asked, only to be greeted with silence from his fellow Gryffindors. "Maybe a better question would be to ask why we're still in here, and not working out where we are?"

"There doesn't seem to be a way out," Hermione replied. "There are no doors, no obvious routes out. I've cast a few spells to see what other magic is at work here, but there's nothing. Except for us, of course."

"Great," Harry said. "So I presume, if we've all just been thrown in this room together, there must be some sort of plan, right?" Seeing Ron shake his head, Harry started feeling frustrated. He wished he'd been here sooner, if only to make sure someone had control of the situation.

"Who got here first, anyway?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy," Ron spat, looking over at the Slytherin, who was leaning against the wall twenty metres from Harry, looking thoroughly bored by the situation.

"Well, that explains why he hasn't been on the Marauder's Map today," Harry said quietly, almost to himself, but Hermione heard him.

"Harry, why are you still suspecting him? There's no evidence that Malfoy has done anything wrong all year. You've just got this hunch because we saw him at Borgin and Burkes' last year."

"And the Unbreakable Vow Snape made," Harry added.

"Yeah, that too. But what can Snape do now? He's not here, is he?"

Harry paused for a moment, thinking. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he finally admitted. "It's not like it makes a difference where Malfoy's a Death Eater or not, wherever we are now."

Frowning, Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, there was an electronic humming noise, and a section of the wall slid open, allowing two men to walk through into the room. They were both dressed in black suits, but that was where the similarities ended. One of the men was short and thin, with thinning white hair and cold, narrow eyes. A white rose was tucked in the lapel of his suit. On his left stood a man a generation his younger, with short black hair and an equally hostile expression on his face. He carried a black notebook tucked under his left arm.

"Good evening, students," the smaller man said with an accent that was distinctly American, and he instantly had the attention everyone in the room. Even Malfoy had stopped brooding and had stood up to face the visitors.

"My name is Coriolanus Snow, and I'm sure you have many questions to ask me. So I suppose I'll do the sensible thing and let you ask away." This turned out to be a bad decision, as ten students stood up at once, calling out at the old man. Snow raised a hand to the group, and everyone fell silent again.

"Maybe we should try taking things a little slower, and ask things one person at a time."

"Please, sir!" Hermione said eagerly, her hand shooting in the air as though she was in Charms class. "Would you mind telling us exactly where we are?"

A small smile crept onto Snow's face, but Harry couldn't work out what it meant.

"If I were to describe to you where you are, I doubt you would be able to comprehend it," Snow replied. "But historians have informed me that, in your time, this city would be known as Denver, in a state called Colorado. These days, we simply call it the Capitol."

"In our time?" Harry heard a voice ask from somewhere on his right; the voice of Justin Finch-Fletchley. "You mean to say that we've actually been transported into our future?"

"Not to beat around the bush, I would say that accurately sums up your situation," Snow nodded, and paused as the realisation of that sunk in around the room.

We've actually gone into the future?

The younger man nudged Snow on the shoulder. "Sir, if I may suggest so, a history lesson could come in handy for the students."

"Quite wise, Seneca," Snow agreed, before turning back to the students. "But I suppose that first of all, they should know why they are here today."

Everyone in the room gave just a little more of their attention to Snow.

"It may surprise you to know that, until just a few weeks ago, I didn't know that magic existed. Nobody here did, apart from a very small group of, er, what term do you like to be called by?"

"Witches and wizards," Seneca whispered in his ear.

"Ah, yes. Well, we didn't know magic existed until we caught a couple of wizards a month ago. They claimed that they were last of their kind, a dying race, if you like. They said that their magical community had been slowly dying out ever since the time of some ruthless dictator seized control - what was his name again?"

Seneca paused for a moment, flicking through his black notebook. "Voldemort, I believe," he said after a moment's silence. There was a collective gasp around the room.

"At least we've got the right group of magical students, sir," Seneca added. "Apparently wizards were scared of saying his name in their day."

Snow nodded, then continued. "Anyway, things started to go downhill for your lot after he got control, so we figured we'd do something to help you out."

Seneca stepped forward slightly, and continued the tale. "I'm no expert in magic, but I've tried to learn what I can, and I think I have a rough understanding. Lots of information about Voldemort-" he ignored the intake of breath around the room "- was revealed after he finally fell from power, including the fact that he had kept parts of his soul locked away within several objects, devices known as-"

"Horcruxes!" Harry was on his feet in an instant. "You know what the Horcruxes are?"

Seneca gave a slight nod, and Harry felt elation surge within him. "If our sources are accurate, the six Horcruxes created by Voldemort were his old school diary, a cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, a locket and a ring that had been Salazar Sltherin's, the lost diadem of Ravenclaw, and his pet snake."

"Nagini is a horcrux?" Harry cried out, shocked, and the eyes of his fellow students were all locked on him. He looked down, embarrassed for his outburst.

"The snake was a horcrux," Seneca replied. "Past tense. Using our superior technology fused with the magic of the wizards we caught, we managed to come into contact with a wizard leading the resistance against Voldemort, a man called Albus Dumbledore, and offered him our information. For a price, of course."

"And what was that price?" Ron asked.

Snow smiled slowly. "All of you."

"I'm sorry, but what?" Hermione said, panic creeping into her voice. "All of us? What do you want with us?"

"Oh, it's nothing personal," Snow replied casually. "Here in the Capitol, we hold a special event every summer, known as the Hunger Games. In essence, it is a competition; twenty-four boys and girls from our country are sent to an isolated arena away from the rest of our nation. The last person alive is the winner. All we asked was that, in exchange for providing this Mr Dumbledore with the information he so badly needed, that he provide us with the children for this year's Hunger Games."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, and then only the cold, dry laugh of Draco Malfoy.

And then the room exploded in anger.

It really was too good to be true, Harry thought, cursing under his breath. And to think, I almost trusted him...

"How can you do this to us!" Hermione screamed indignantly above the raucous voices of her classmates. "It's just barbaric!"

Snow shrugged. "It's life, girl. Sometimes we just have to play the hand we are given. Good luck, all of you. And may the odds be ever in your favour."

And with that, Coriolanus Snow turned on his heels and strode from the room.

A/N: Obviously there has to be some sort of completely implausible way of connecting the Harry Potter and Hunger Games worlds, but aside from that, hopefully this chapter was OK!

Whatever you thought of it, I would appreciate any (and all) feedback via review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)