Percy Jackson and the Olympians © Rick Riordan
Harry Potter © J.K. Rowling

Desperate Scene
Prologue

Nico yawned. He couldn't help it. Being the only son of Hades alive, he was his father's little messenger, the one that did his dirty work when the Furies or Thanatos wasn't available. But that was fine with Nico—his father left him alone most of the time, which is what he wanted. Nico really wasn't one for immediate family, being Hades and Persephone. (She didn't like him much anyways.) This time, Nico had been sent to take a soul of someone's and bring it back, because they had been living for much too long, past their due date.

Usually, Nico would hang around New York City—it was dirty, it was dark, and it was busy. Just the kind of place that he loved. Besides, Olympus was just a corner away and on Fifth Street, there was Percy and Aunt Sally and Paul. He could definitely live with that family—Thalia included. But now, his father had told him to go to London to take care of this job. Shadow-traveling across the Atlantic wasn't fun.

Even still, Nico rubbed his eyes and kept his hands on his sword, looking down at the piece of crumpled paper in his hand. On it read, Number 12 Grimmauld Place—a sort of out-of-the-way location that he had to peer at to make sure it was there. London was dreary and rainy; he didn't like it much. He was sure Percy would've liked it, though; his cousin had an affinity for the rain.

Walking up between Number 11 and Number 13, Nico looked behind him and was pretty sure that there was no Number 12 there. But over here...he had always been able to sense the shadows. And the shadows were telling him (oh gods that sounded weird) that they were hiding something behind Number 11 and Number 13.

"Open," he commanded lazily, waving his hand for emphasis. To be honest, he really didn't expect it to work, but then there was a light rumbling sound. Nico blinked; it seemed as though the buildings were moving, like they were cracking open for him just as a door would. Even though it shook and stuttered, none of the neighbors seemed to notice. Nico looked at them in alarm; no doubt that meant that this soul he had to bring back was not mortal. That would make his job a bit more complicated.

Finally, the shaking stopped. In front of him was a narrow alley. just waiting for him to enter. Nico supposed he must've looked ridiculous standing there, so he shrugged to himself and went inside. Not like I haven't seen weirder things before.

He came upon a door. A simple door, made of shining blue, musty wood. He thought of knocking on it when he heard a raised voice from the inside; his ears perked up. So there were more people inside. Interesting. Nico shadow-traveled inside, not finding such a feat amazing.

There was another large corridor, that of which he walked down on, feeling slightly like an idiot. He kept to the sides, pressing his body slightly against the walls.

"No! I refuse to have them here, Sirius! They're just kids!" one woman shrieked, the motion causing Nico to wince. Gods, I don't like these people. Too noisy. And it wasn't the type of noisy as it was in NYC; it was the type of noisy that made you want to grit your teeth and stuff your ears with earwax.

"Now, Molly, calm down—I'm sure we can find a way to balance this out..." A male voice, old and weathered, like a grandfather that had been a war veteran.

"Albus! How can you side with him?"

"This whole war is about him! You can't keep Harry out of the dark forever!" Another male voice entered, this time hoarse.

"He's a child!"

Nico found that this was a good time to present himself. After all, he didn't want to be late for dinner—Percy had invited him over for their weekly family dinners (like he did every week) and Nico decided to go because Aunt Sally (she somehow coerced him into saying that with the bribe of pancakes four days in a row) made the best fucking food ever. Lame reason, but still.

He stepped forward and knocked on the wood so that everyone could gather their attention on him. Before anyone could react, he said, "Hi. I'm here to collect a soul? Named..." Nico raised his paper and read off it. "Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr., born on the 31st of December, 1926, was supposed to die on the 31st of October, 1981?" Nico tilted his head, frowning. Underneath, there was another list of large dates that Tom Riddle could've died on. "...or something..."

However, he was not faced with what he was expecting; surely; he was thinking of something related to being a half-blood, but surely not a bunch of people pointing sticks at him, glaring as if he was a piece of scum. Silently, he wondered what simple sticks could do, but then he noticed the tallest man there, noticeable by the way he tied in his long white beard, almost as pale as his face. Blue eyes were widened in horror behind his half-moon glasses. Nico knew that he had found the person that knew where this Tom was.

"How did you get in, boy?" snarled one of the men pointing their sticks at him, a short old guy with mousy hair and a bright, electric blue eye whizzing in an artificial socket. Half his nose was gone and his face was littered with scars. "Answer me!"

Nico didn't answer him, simply stared.

"What's your name?" another asked, a kinder-looking man with golden eyes. There was something vaguely predatory about him however. Once again, Nico did not say a word; he was reminded of Kronos' golden eyes, and for a moment, he was left at a standstill.

Then, he said, "I am a grim reaper. You do not need to know my name. You do not need to know how I came. Where is Tom Marvolo Riddle?" His voice was toneless to the others, then aggravated when he turned to wizened old man with the long, white hair.

"Grim reaper?" a pink-haired woman repeated. "Like...a person who brings death?"

"Death comes by itself," Nico told her matter-of-factly. "I am merely here to collect the soul."

"Put your wands down," the old man said, his voice coming out as a rushed whisper, fervent. Surprised, the men and women put their..."wands" down. Nico took care of this word with suspicion. Were they descendants of Hecate? His father said that there was a large community of them, all gathering their magic from the goddess of magic's sons and daughters. Perhaps these people were part of that community.

Finally, he turned to Nico. "Tom Marvolo Riddle is not here," he responded evenly. "I'm afraid you have the wrong address."

Nico's brow furrowed. "No, that's not possible. It says, distinctly, that there is a Tom Riddle here that needs to have his soul collected and then put into judgement." Nico took out the piece of paper that one of the Furies gave him containing information about the man named 'Tom Riddle'. He opened it and raised an eyebrow when the paper fell like a deadweightl to the floor and rolled away. "But if I were to guess, he certainly wouldn't be going into Paradise." he added dryly.

"There's no Tom Riddle here," the golden-eyed one said, still eying him with suspicion then turning to look worriedly at Dumbledore.

"Hm." Nico looked down. "Okay, it says here that he goes by the name Voldemort here. What a stupid name." he snorted slightly, then looked up to see everyone's faces etched into a mask of shock. Okay, that one made it through.

"H-he...he's...in this home?" the redheaded woman said shrilly, her hands clapping over her mouth.

"Uh...yeah." Nico looked at the paper again. "Huh. Well, it says a piece of him. Upstairs. How odd..." He tapped the scroll against the wall. "Why's this thing giving me information late? Never did that before."

"Upstairs?" A dark haired man shot out of his chair, a crazed look in his eyes, limp black hair falling to his shoulders. His eyes widened in realization. "Harry." He seemed like he was ready to bolt, but then the old man stopped him with a loud, "Sirius!"

Sirius stopped.

The old man turned to Nico. "Well, it seems we have a problem here, mister...ah, grim reaper. Yes, there is a piece of Tom Riddle upstairs...perhaps I should fill you in?" He motioned to another room, cut off from everyone's stares and whispers.

Nico raised an eyebrow. "Please do."

Nearly an hour passed and none of the Order members had left yet. They were all antsy to see what was going on. Apparently, the man that they were threatening was some sort of "grim reaper", here to collect Voldemort's soul (which should have died a long time ago) but didn't, and was now upstairs. Oh, god, did they hope Dumbledore could explain this one.

Moments later, both the dark-haired boy came out as did Dumbledore. The old wizard seems to have a load taken off his back, but the boy is scowling darkly; heavily, and the atmosphere in the room changes to one of a more...dreary type. Like death was right above their heads, waiting to befall them all.

"What did you decide?" yelled Sirius Black. Many eyes turned his way, but he simply scowled when they did so. Immediately, they turned away. Even though all the Order members knew that he was a framed convict, there was something akin to insanity lit in those eyes. No one wanted to see that.

Dumbledore smiled. "Young...ah, mister reaper has decided that it was a fluke on his part."

"It was not," corrects the young boy. He points his nose in the air slightly. "I was right. There is a piece of Riddle in the boy upstairs, whatever you call him," he waved away, ignoring the appalled stares of people when he pointed out their Chosen One so loosely. "But he is not on the death list yet, which means that I cannot take his soul down with me." The boy reaches in his pocket and takes out a small black device; it lights up in his face, showing the nearly ghostly pallor to his skin. "Yes...it seems as though this...Voldemort of yours has been cheating death. That is not allowed."

"Why haven't you caught him before?" a man known as Emory Gale asked, a nameless face among the crowd. A roar of approval came up after this.

The boy raised a hand, annoyed. "I'm only one person, okay? And I don't get sent out often. My father..." he quieted down, catching the interested and surprised look of Dumbledore. "I only get sent out for special missions, ones that have been...stretched, you can say," he cocked his head slightly. "Like this one."

"So...you're going to reap He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's soul?" frowned Alastor Moody. "Well, get it over and done with!"

The boy snorted. "If only it were that easy," he responded icily. "I don't know where he is. All I am told is that he is," the boy pointed upstairs. "over there, but you guys say that he's Harry Porter or something, and that I can't reap his soul. So I'll be staying for a while until I can find this...Voldemort fellow."

There was a long silence, covering them all in it's suffocating hold.

Then the golden-eyed man named Remus Lupin said, "Your accent is different from ours."

The boy frowned. "Yes, I suppose it is," he replied mysteriously, vaguely, his tone suggesting that there was nothing else to be said.

"Well then," Nymphadora Tonks smiled brightly, bobbing up and down. "Welcome to the Order! My name is Tonks, and...ah...what's your name?" The boy raised an eyebrow, and she continued, incredulous, "Oh, c'mon! "grim reaper" can't really be your name, can it?"

To their surprise, he grinned. "Nico Di Angelo," he said, a hint of Italian in his voice when he pronounced his name. "Son of Hades, at your service." And then he bowed down slightly, mockingly, as if he'd done this many, many times before.

"Hades?" Remus said, frowning. "Like, the muggle Greek god?"

A smile threatened to break out on Nico's face. Dumbledore had already disappeared, Apparating away silently, leaving him here. Well, that was all fine. It was part of their agreement. "Oh, yes." he said, nodding. "They're very much real, if you didn't know. Have kids all the time. Of course, I'm not totally full god myself..." he trailed off, shrugging. "Half-god. They call us half-bloods, or demigods." Nico noticed how many people froze up when he mentioned "half-blood". Hmm, sensitive topic.

"Half-god?" one woman balked, her eyes wide. "Wha..."

"I'm sure Dumbledore can explain the rest," Nico said, waving a hand, enjoying the rush that he got when he got to reveal his true identity to strangers. It was just so much fun seeing them watch him in awe after being treated like dirt for so many years. "So, what do you really do around here in this Order for fun?"

.:.

to be continued...