Chapter 7 - And You Say Jason's Dramatic
A.K.A Snape Victorious
*Extracts from the Half-Blood Prince*
I'm going to apologise in advance for the sheer poor quality of this chapter. If you've read this chapter before, I'm going to apologise even more; I had just woken up and selected the wrong file to upload as opposed to this (ever so slightly) improved one, because I'm a lazy bitch who can't be bothered to delete a file once she's done with it.
Seriously. I have back to chapter 4 not deleted on this site.
Either way, I deeply apologise.
The next few minutes, or hours, as they felt like to Harry, were agony. Not physically, of course. Quite the opposite; he couldn't feel a thing. No, it was the waiting. He knew Nico would come and check the compartment. He'd said he would, and if Harry had learnt one thing from spending all summer around people who lived with Nico, it was that they never went back on their word unless there was no way the could keep it. Still, he had never hated Malfoy more then he did then as he lay there, like an absurd turtle on its back, blood dripping sickeningly into his open mouth.
Luckily, he didn't need to wait long before the compartment door opened and Nico di Angelo appeared, trunk in one hand, and a set of black robes in another. He had changed, though not into Hogwarts robes; he was wearing his uniform of loose jeans, trainers, a dark purple shirt with the Camp logo - an omega sign with the phrase Non inclinabor and, underneath it, the Greek translation Εμείς δεν θα υποκύψει in the centre of the omega. The number 13 and the phrase Garde Ta Foy was on the back of it. A tracksuit jacket was draped over the arm that wasn't holding Harry's robes.
He smirked and held open his hand. Simultaneously, the Invisibility Cloak flew into it and Harry was unfrozen. He promptly pushed himself into a more dignified sitting position and wiped the blood off his face.
There was still a large flood of students in the corridor, although if Harry had to hazard a guess he'd say they were past halfway.
Nico flicked his wrist and all the blood cleared off Harry's face and clothes. He tossed him the robes. "Get changed," he said briskly. "If you hurry, we'll be able to go out with the rest of the crowd and act like nothing happened."
Nico sat down and pulled out his book again.
Harry quickly pulled the robes over his head. Ideally, he'd change what he was wearing underneath, but now was no time to be picky.
He wished he knew a spell to fix his nose, but, unfortunately, healing spells were Hermione's forte, not his.
As if reading his mind - which Harry would have suspected, but knew that he just had an intuition for these things - Nico handed him what looked to be a cracker. Harry eyed it sceptically; it looked too much like the crackers Percy had warned him not to eat unless he wanted to spontaneously combust like Jason's cooking attempts.
"Eat it," Nico said. "It'll heal your nose."
Harry looked at him. "Is it that magical food you and Percy warned me not to eat unless I wanted to spontaneously combust?"
"Yup," said Nico, popping the 'p'. "But don't worry; your great-grandmother on your father's side was in Cabin 31. We can't eat much, and legacies can eat even less, but that much won't hurt you."
Harry nodded and ate the cracker. Surprisingly, it didn't taste like a cracker. It tasted like Hogwarts's treacle tart. Like Mrs Weasley's birthday cake and Percy's blue chocolate chip cookies. Like so many good things that shouldn't have gone together but did. It tasted like home. It was the best thing Harry had ever eaten.
He must have had a priceless expression on his face, because Nico cracked a smile.
"C'mon," he said. "We should go, quick. We might be able to catch a carriage if we go now."
Harry agreed, and they slipped out of the compartment. In the general hustle and bustle of the train, even if it was dying down by now, no-one noticed them, though Nico wasn't wearing robes and stuck out like, much like he had earlier, a sore thumb.
Suddenly, Harry frowned. "I've never asked you before, but what does the inscription on the Camp logo mean?"
Nico looked down at his shirt. "Oh, that? I will not bow. When Percy came out with it, the whole Camp kinda said 'Why not?' and it became our motto."
Harry nodded. "What about the one on the back of your shirt?" he asked as they pushed through the crowd.
"Each Cabin has their own motto," Nico explained. "I'm the Head Counsellor for Cabin Thirteen - hence the number thirteen - and our motto is Garde Ta Foy - Guard Your Faith, in English. I wanted it to be something a bit more morbid, but my sister didn't like that. Garde Ta Foy was something we could both agree on."
Harry frowned. "Why were you the one to choose it?"
"This system is relatively new," said Nico, stepping gracefully off the train. By contrast, Harry looked pretty ungainly, stumbling after being pushed by some git or another. Nico grasped his by the elbow to stop him doing a face-plant. "Only four years old, actually. Since the time of the Roman Empire, Greeks and Romans didn't know about each other, and clashed whenever we met. The American Civil War is a good example of what a catastrophe it can be. The Romans had cohorts, the Greeks had cabins. With the merging of the Greek and Roman Camps, we have cabins, like the Greeks, but each Cabin has different sections depending on your Cohort. My cabin - Thirteen - is a little different, because me and my sister-"
"My sister and I," corrected Harry, just to piss him off.
"Stop acting like Annabeth," Nico said, annoyed. "Anyway, Thirteen is different because both my sister and I - there, happy now?-"
"Very." Harry smirked.
"- are in the Fifth Cohort," finished Nico. "So there's only one section. Therefore, don't ask me to talk about the Cohorts, 'cause I would tell you - and rightly so - that the Fifth is the best. End of."
"I'm sure," Harry drawled.
Nico rolled his eyes and walked onwards.
They grabbed a carriage with some Hufflepuff Second Years, but obviously not before Nico managed to terrify them by having a conversation with the Thestral that pulled the carriage.
"There's nothing there," said a short girl with a round face and mousy brown hair. "The carriages are pulled by magic."
Nico and Harry shook their heads. "They're pulled by Thestrals," said Harry.
"They can only be seen by people who've seen death," supplied Nico helpfully.
"Ask Hagrid," advised Harry. "If you take Care of Magical Creatures in Third Year, he'll be your teacher. Hopefully, anyway, if this damned war allows people to come back to Hogwarts next year."
Nico pouted at him. "I'm meant to be the morbid one," he whined.
"You are the morbid one," said Harry. "I just made a morbid comment for once."
Nico rolled his eyes again and helped the last Hufflepuff into the carriage. She blushed lightly as Nico held her hand.
Nico offered a hand to help Harry into the carriage, but promptly let go.
Harry fell on his butt in the dirt.
"Sorry." Nico smirked, not looking sorry at all.
Harry glared at him, brushing off his robes. "Some friend you are," he muttered, getting into the carriage.
Nico's smirk widened. "Don't you forget it," he said, and the carriage rolled towards the castle.
Halfway there, Nico said in his head. Just so you know, Dumbledore and my family want me to make a dead dramatic entrance, but only the latter know what it is. I ain't gonna spoil the surprise for you, I know how much you love surprises, but expect lots of smart-ass, sarcastic comments and a few scared ghosts. Just so you know.
Smirking internally, Harry replied, Thanks for telling me.
Any time.
They arrived at Hogwarts shortly afterwards, but, by the time they reached the entrance hall, Nico had vanished.
Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione.
"Neville and di Angelo came back without you and said you were doing something," Ron started.
"Neville was looking at di Angelo weirdly," Hermione added. "Has he done something to you?"
Harry rolled his eyes. The phrase 'jumping to conclusions' sprang to mind, but it didn't seem to be extreme enough. Maybe 'skydiving to conclusions' would be better. Yeah, 'skydiving to conclusions' summed up Ron and Hermione pretty well in terms of their attitudes. "No, Ron, Hermione, Nico didn't do anything to me. Nothing negative, anyway. If it weren't for him, I'd still be on the express with a broken nose."
"WHAT?" they shouted, but in the general cacophony of the Hall no-one that wasn't looking at them before looked twice.
Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. I'll tell you later, alright?"
They both looked dubious, but agreed anyway.
Harry took the opportunity to see if Nico was in the hall for his 'big entrance'. Knowing Nico as he did, it'd probably be a huge anticlimax.
Sure enough, half hidden in the shadows, sitting on one of the ceiling beams, was Nico di Angelo.
He gave Harry the peace sign with his hands and turned away.
Harry rolled his eyes unnoticeably and continued to look around the hall, just to avoid suspicion.
Soon, order came to the Great Hall and the First Years, along with the Sorting Hat, was brought in.
The Hat opened its brim and sang:
We don't need no education,
We don't need no thought control.
No dark sarcasm in the classroom,
Teachers leave them kids alone.
Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone!
All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
We don't need no education,
We don't need no thought control.
No dark sarcasm in the classroom,
Teachers leave them kids alone.
Hey! Teacher! Leave us kids alone!
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
All in all you're just another brick in the wall.
In the silence of the Great Hall, Harry burst into laughter.
"I love that song!" he cried.
Almost everyone looked at him weirdly, except for those who were nodding in agreement.
"Who let the Hat listen to Pink Floyd?" a Fifth Year Ravenclaw girl giggled.
"Especially Another Brick in The Wall," said a Seventh Year Slytherin.
"It's Another Brick in the Wall Part II!" amended a Second Year Hufflepuff.
Hmm, Harry thought, looks like one of the girls we took the carriage with.
"Can't forget the Part II," snickered the Seventh Year Slytherin.
All four of them (the Ravenclaw, the Slytherin, the Hufflepuff and Harry) laughed even harder, along with a few others.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Yes, well, thank you for that, Mr Hat."
The Hat nodded his head towards him. "Thank you Headmaster. And now for what would normally be the focus of my song, but that I decided to leave out for humour's sake; be united! Another song by Pink Floyd, a song of theirs you may have guessed I was singing earlier, says 'together we stand, divided we fall', so stand together! Thank you."
The Hat fell silent again.
"And now for the Sorting!" Dumbledore said brightly, in an attempt to lighten the mood, which, for some reason, was rather grim.
The Sorting was, Harry thought, rather boring. He clapped for everyone, remembering the Hat's message, but cheered hardest for the Gryffindors as was obligatory. He figured cheering at the Sorting was a good place to start uniting the houses.
At the end, Dumbledore called for silence yet again. "Now, I know we all want to get to our feast, but there is one more thing that must be said. This year, we will be having an exchange student from Olympus Military and Combat Camps."
The Hall exploded into whispers.
Dumbledore held up a hand for silence, which soon returned.
"Now," he said sternly, "I urge you all, no matter how much you wish to, to please, if you value your life, or at least an unbroken nose and unwounded pride, treat them with respect, or at least as an equal."
"Why not?" asked a Hufflepuff.
"'Cause we don't take shit back home," said Nico, as Harry knew it was. Everyone else jumped and looked for the source of the noise.
Dick move, di Angelo, said Jude.
"You know," Nico continued idly, "you'd be surprised at how rarely people look up."
Immediately, everyone looked up.
"Just because I commented on why people don't look up doesn't mean I'm above you," said Nico, sounding amused. "Of course, that doesn't mean I'm not. Either way, in the amount of time you've been looking for me, if I was feeling malicious, several of you would be dead already. You are in the middle of a war, you know. Constant vigilance and all that shit."
Seemingly unprovoked, Nico cocked his head to the side. "You hear that? That is the sound of no-one slapping me upside the head reprimanding me for my language. Pure bliss, that."
"Mr di Angelo," Dumbledore said sternly, "would you please stop playing games and come here?"
"Sure thing," said Nico brightly. "As soon as someone other then Potter spots me, 'cause he's known where I was from the beginning."
As one, several hundred heads turned towards Harry. He scowled. "Thanks a lot, Nico. I get enough attention as it is."
"Any time," said Nico, laughing. "And, again, never take your attention away from the target. I'm in plain sight, for gods' sakes! No-one's spotted me yet!"
Saphira McBride cast the Homunum revelio spell.
"Nice idea," Nico praised. "But we're in a crowded area and I can block that spell, so its completely ineffectual, but good thinking."
Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nico, if you're trying to hide yourself, no-one, I repeat, no-one is going to find you!"
"One, I'm using perfectly mundane means of concealing myself, no magic involved. And, two, much to my shame, I can be found, even when using magic."
"Yeah, by Percy and Annabeth! No-one can hide from them!"
"True, but seriously, this is ridiculous. I know three-year-olds who could have found me quicker then you lot have."
"If you mean Theo, he can find bloody anyone, so that's not really saying much," said Harry.
This was embarrassing. This was really, really embarrassing.
"He's still three, Harry," Nico reminded him. "Trained in combat since he could hold a knife, yes, but only three. And the rest of you have thirty seconds before I cast some kind of embarrassing spell on a few unlucky individuals. Better find me."
Thirty seconds later, Draco Malfoy was hanging by his ankle, suspended in mid-air and announcing the evils of pureblood supremacy, Cormac McLaggen was singing opera, Marietta Edgecombe was singing Radiohead's Creep, and Severus Snape was handing out candy to Gryffindor First Years, proclaiming himself to be the Pretty Princess of the Ponies.
Harry couldn't help but snicker. "The Stolls would be so proud."
"Why do you think I get along so well with them?" Nico asked rhetorically. "I give them ideas, they put them into action, Percy covers for us, it's a perfect system."
"So Percy is involved in all of it? I thought Lacy said she'd murder you if you brought Percy into anything you happen to do with the Stolls."
"Yeah, but he doesn't actively do anything. He just conveniently turns away from something we happen to be doing, or telling us that such a person tends to go such a place at such a time every Monday, or something."
"Ah."
"Yeah." After a moment's pause, Nico huffed. "I'm getting bored here people! I'm ADHD, I can't stay in one place too long."
Five minutes later and no luck.
"Oh fuck it all," Nico said, jumping off the ceiling beam. "I couldn't stay up there much longer."
Harry smirked at some of the astounded faces.
What he wouldn't give to know what they were thinking.
With some random girl for some reason named Melissa
That was embarrassing. Melissa hated feeling stupid. Don't get her wrong, she wasn't a dead studious Ravenclaw, but she liked knowing stuff. Of course, her annoyance quickly faded when she looked at the guy.
He was about as good looking as someone could get, with sharp, angular features, high cheekbones, deep-set dark eyes framed by dark thick lashes that'd make anyone jealous, Melissa included. He was really tall, 6 foot to 6'2", and looked really athletic, if a little on the wiry side. He had muscles that sure as hell didn't come from waving a stick - the sword at his waist was testimony to that. He held himself with a casual elegance, like he didn't know how good looking he was.
The best way Melissa could think to describe him was as follows:
Imagine Taylor Lautner, James Dean, David Beckham, Mick Jagger, and Brad Pitt all gave their incredible good looks away and gave them to one person. The result was standing in front of her.
He was wearing loose dark wash jeans, black Nike trainers, a black tracksuit jacket and a dark purple shirt with a logo on it - an omega sign with some script in a different language on it. He was tapping his foot and drumming his fingers on his leg, like he was constantly on a sugar rush. He looked to be relaxed, but vigilant, as though something would come and attack him at any time he was unprepared.
Then again, he goes to a combat school, so that probably wasn't out of place.
He smirked at them, revealing straight pearly white teeth. The only thing that marred his skin were a few scars - the most obvious being the four parallel marks, like he'd fought a bear, that started just under his right eye and disappeared at the collar of his shirt, just below his left collar bone.
Melissa's heart fluttered slightly.
It's just ... Jeez, he was really hot.
"Aren't you supposed to be wearing robes?" asked a confused Hufflepuff.
Melissa nodded along with lots of other people. She thought so too.
He looked horrified at the very thought. "Me? In those fashion disasters? No thanks. I enjoy having freedom of movement and not looking like something out of a child's storybook."
He had a really nice voice. It was distinctly American, but with Italian, French and Greek accents to it.
"There're not that bad," said a Gryffindor optimistically.
"Uh, yeah they are."
"No, there're not."
"I ain't ge'in' into this," said Nico shortly. "And I ain't wearin' robes either. Forget it."
Dumbledore looked at him sternly. "Mr di Angelo, it's school uniform."
Nico met his eyes rebelliously. "I'm only here for the year, and I'm wearing my school uniform." He spread his arms. "See? Much more freedom of movement, much more stylish and not from before the Pilgrim Landing. Personally, I prefer jeans and a t-shirt to a dress. And say what you will about them being 'robes', they're dresses. At least, they look like it. I don't wear dresses; my girlfriend does at the Independence Day dance."
Melissa felt a pang of disappointment when he said he had a girlfriend, although she probably shouldn't have been surprised. Every good-looking guy is either taken, fictional, a jerk, gay, or all four.
Back with Harry
"Independence Day?" asked Draco Malfoy, still hanging upside down by his ankle.
"Yup!" said Nico. "The day the Declaration of Independence was made official, the fourth of July, the day even Cabins Five and Six put aside their millennia old grudge and are civil towards each other. The day all of Camp goes down the beach to watch Cabin Nine's awesome moving fireworks. One of the few days of the year we're actually allowed sugary food. It's awesome."
"The Declaration of Independence?" asked a Ravenclaw. "What's that?"
Nico looked at her like she belonged in St Mungo's. "You don't know what the Declaration of Independence is? You know: When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them to another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of Nature and Nature's God entitle them ... No? Where have you been the last few centuries? Under a rock? Oh, wait, this is Britain. I forgot how closed off Magical Britain is. It's the North Korea of the Magical World, although how you're propping your economy is a mystery to me."
"We are not!" objected several people.
"Where's North Korea?" asked several others.
"Dear God you're all ignorant," said Nico.
They are, agreed the voice named James. They just don't appreciate being told as such.
"Who's all ignorant?" said a voice.
"Travis, Connor," Nico greeted. "I'm kind of in the middle of something. Is this important?"
The two brothers from the other side of the I-M looked mock-offended.
"What?" said the taller.
"We can't just -" said the shorter.
"- call and see our -"
"- favourite emo -"
"- pranking buddy -"
"- and friend?" they finished together.
"You could, but you don't," said Nico. "Je répète, what is it?"
The two mock-gasped. "You're going -"
"- Cabin Ten -"
"- on us -"
"- how could you?!" They burst into fake tears.
Nico rolled his eyes. "Quit the melodrama, that's Jason's forte. What is it?"
Suddenly, the two looked mischievous. "It's about -"
"- said melodrama -"
"- master."
"We need -"
" - an idea -"
"- for a prank."
"But we don't have -"
"- your mastermind -"
"- ideas."
"So we thought -"
"- we'd just -"
"- call and -"
"- ask."
Their alternate speech was giving Harry a headache, but Nico took it in stride.
He thought for a moment. "He's planning on taking Piper to dinner. Jinx his clothes to disappear in the middle of it."
The brothers grinned.
"That's -"
"- genius."
"But when -"
"- are they -"
"- going to -"
"- dinner -"
"- and will -"
"- Piper -"
"- murder us?"
I have a migraine, said one voice.
You don't have a head, said another.
"Maybe," replied Nico. "Although, she doesn't exactly mind seeing Jason in the nude, and she'll probably be laughing too hard to care. Besides, if she's going to murder anyone, it'll be me for giving you the idea. As for when, I dunno, ask Percy."
"Will -"
"- do."
"See you -"
"- soon."
"Hopefully."
"If you don't -"
"- go and die -"
"- on us."
"I won't," said Nico. "You lot don't die either. It'd be really suckish to have no-one helping me spread chaos."
The two grinned. "Deal."
"But Percy -"
"- would still -"
"- help you -"
"- if it -"
"- came to -"
"- such a -"
"- bleak -"
"- outcome."
"But have fun -"
"- spread chaos -"
"- and -"
"- most importantly -"
"- learn lots."
The three kept straight faces for two seconds before bursting into laughter.
"Yeah."
"Right.
"Like you could -"
"- learn anything -"
"- in Magical Britain!"
"Especially at -"
"- Pigspots."
"Connor, my darling brother, I do believe the name is Hogwarts."
Okay, so the one that said that last bit was Connor, then.
"Is that so? Well no-one told me!"
"I do believe Percy said the name of the school on several occasions."
"Yes, but who cares? No-one takes anything Percy says seriously unless we're in a war."
"To be fair," interjected Nico, "we are. We're just at a temporary truce to re-arrange our forces."
"True."
"But still -"
"- way to -"
"- be morbid."
Nico shrugged. "I'm a morbid person."
"Yes -"
"- you are."
"One wonders -"
"- how we put up with you -"
"- and your morbidness."
"Is morbidness even a word?" Nico wondered aloud.
The two brothers shrugged in unison. "It may be."
"It may not be."
"But who cares?"
"Not us!"
"Anyway -"
"- we must go -"
"- we have a prank -"
"- to plan."
"Au revoir!"
"Mon amie."
"Now who's going Cabin Ten on who!" said Nico.
"You," they said in unison. "Byel!"
"G'bye." Nico waved his hand, and the message disappeared.
He turned to the rest of the Hall. "Sorry 'bout that."
"Who were they?" asked some Gryffindor.
"Travis and Connor Stoll," Nico answered. "Head counsellors of Cabin Eleven, established thieves, their criminal records show that, and great pranksters. Actually, that reminds me." He walked up to Dumbledore and handed him a letter. "Under the laws of the United States of America, I am obliged to tell you that I have a criminal record and so am a possible danger to the school." Here he smirked. "Of course, I'm not, unless someone manages to really piss me off, in which case some personal information of theirs will soon be floating round and they'll probably be in the hospital wing with some form of injury. Physically, mentally or both varies."
Dumbledore looked at him incredulously. "And your school allows such behaviour?"
Nico snorted. "It encourages it. It teaches people to fend for themselves and not rely on authority figures. Of course, the line is drawn at killing, serious injury, maiming, and completely destroying someone's social life, but everyone knows the boundaries. Oh, and I'm staring in a movie, so I'll be absent some days. They don't really care about my school attendance record."
What happened to your subtlety? bemoaned the voice called Tom. Don't just change the subject in such a blatant manner!
"So it tolerates thieving and bullying. Is that what I'm hearing?" said Dumbledore, outraged, conveniently ignoring the last part of Nico's statement.
And it didn't even work, Tom continued.
"Don't act so affronted," Nico snapped. "Your school does it enough. At least ours is done in a vaguely controlled environment and the teachers will actually take action if things go too far. And the consequences of stuff like that isn't just the loss of house points and a detention. It's things like scrubbing every paving stone in New Rome with a toothbrush while Terminus watches you. Just Terminus being there makes it horrible. At least most of our students are huge names in the Mortal world. At least our teachers know what they're talking about. At least they aren't prejudice. At least they, Severus Snape, don't used unauthorised Ligilimency on minors! Which, may I add, is illegal, and punishable by three years in Azkaban. The way I've seen it, your Potions professor, or at least, Potions professor until now, has a total of three thousand years in Azkaban for unauthorised Ligilimency, and you yourself faced with thirty. And that's only on people that go to this school right now!"
He doesn't care, said Malcolm.
He was becoming even more angry now, and began to advance almost menacingly towards Dumbledore.
"Also, this castle has, what, three hundred moving parts and staircases? Are First Years not assigned a guide? Are they not given maps? Are your students not put into sets so that the ones who find certain subjects difficult can receive more help, and the ones that excel aren't held back by the slower ones? Have you ever thought that Divination should only be taken if you're sure the student has Sight? 'Cause if they don't, they're wasting their time, their teacher's time, and school resources.
"And have you ever thought, 'hmm, maybe we should have an etiquette class for Muggle-born students so they don't embarrass themselves with their excruciatingly poor knowledge of pureblood traditions'? Has that never crossed your mind? And have you ever thought, 'maybe more people would pass the History of Magic O.W.L if we had a living teacher'? Or maybe, 'what if the Potions professor wasn't so damn bitter? What if we put him on a leash? Maybe then, we'd have more Aurors and Healers to do essential work! Brilliant!' But then you," he jabbed Dumbledore in the chest with his left index finger, "would have to lay off your little spy, and we all know that, right now, anyone ever accused of being a Death Eater is going to have difficulty getting a job, and we can't have that now, can we? Actually, maybe we should! By him damaging Auror and Healer applicants, lots of young people are out of jobs! But, wait, Britain's so fucking corrupt it doesn't matter how many O. or N.E. you got, only that you come from a wealthy family and can buy your way into these positions! Have you ever thought about correcting that? No! 'Cause just like every other politician in Magical Britain, Albus Dumbledore, you have no morals, and are just as corrupt as everyone else."
Apparently finished with his rant against Hogwarts and Magical Britain as a whole, Nico turned on his heels and walked back to where he was leaning against before.
Many noticed that he walked with a bad limp. In fact, his left leg made a slight clank noise each time it hit the floor, as though it was made of metal.
He started tapping his (right) foot again.
The sharp, quick tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap was the only sound in the room until Harry snorted lightly.
When every head turned to him yet again, Harry put his head down and put his fist by his lips. Only those on either side of his could see his lips twitched upwards, although everyone who cared to look saw the mirth dancing in his eyes.
Blaise Zabini started chuckling silently.
Some other Slytherins snorted as well.
A few Ravenclaws put their hands over their mouths to hide their smiles.
Harry put his head on the table and began shaking in silent laughter.
Soon, the entire Slytherin table, half the Ravenclaw table, a few Hufflepuffs and Harry were rolling on the floor laughing.
Everyone else was staring at Nico incredulously.
He took a dramatic bow. "Thank you, thank you, I'm here all year!"
The Hat coughed. "I do believe you need to be Sorted."
"Yup," said Nico cheerily. "I was just wondering if the so-called teachers would remember they had a responsibility." He look pointedly up at the staff table.
McGonagall was, as per usual, the first to recover. She grabbed the Sorting Hat by it's top and gestured to the seat.
Deciding to scare as many people as possible in the process of an introduction by making his status as a genetic mutation as obvious as possible, Nico glided over to the Hat and sat down, despite his limp.
In what seemed like the several hours Nico's Sorting took, his face barely seemed to change. Still, little things like the haunted and gaunt look Nico always had became more prominent at points, and sometimes he seemed to shift more then usual.
What could the Hat be saying that could possibly make Nico react like that?
With Nico
A Hat? Really? And the way the Hat looked ... could they get any more stereotypical? I mean, patched, dusty, wide brim, very pointy ... It was something out of a child's fairy tale. Hadn't it belonged to Godric Gryffindor? And wasn't Gryffindor a guy? Did he have some sort of fetish for women's clothes?
Yes, yes, probably, I agree, yes, yes again, and no. At the time, hats such as myself were very much gender-neutral, said the Hat.
Well hello to you too, Nico said wryly.
No need to be sarcastic, the Hat sniffed. Now, if you'd just let me look through your memories -
Oh Hell no, said Nico, clamping down his Occlumency shields.
If you don't let me see your memories, I can't Sort you, replied the Hat irritably. You're too much of a complex character for me to decide straight away. All I can do right now is rule out Hufflepuff. While undeniably hardworking and loyal, you're not generally described as 'nice', or 'generous' or anything else linked with Hufflepuff.
Will I have to see my memories again? Nico asked.
Not in full, although maybe snapshots.
Fine. Just be quick about it. Just so you know, my mind is a damn scary place.
Impatient. Definitely not Hufflepuff.
Just get on with it, you horrid piece of headgear.
Soon, snapshots of Nico's false memories flashed through his head. For that he was thankful; his Mist-made memories were far more bearable to watch. Of course, they didn't mean they were nice. Quite the opposite. Especially when coupled with some of his real memories.
The bang of a gun echoed around his head.
Bright blue eyes were staring up at him in disbelief; he hadn't thought Nico would actually pull the trigger.
Blood red eyes were glaring at him distastefully. He wasn't good enough for his father, false or otherwise.
Bright, emerald green eyes - in Nico's opinion, the most beautiful eyes in the world - were pleading with him. Don't go, they begged. Don't go, don't ...
His throat burned. It hurt to swallow. His stomach contracted painfully and the ghosts of the extreme starvation and dehydration plagued him again, but during the day this time; not his usual nightmares.
His vision went blurry. The floor wavered beneath his feet. His eyelids wanted to fall desperately. He wanted to close his eyes; to fall asleep and never wake up.
Not real, he told himself. That was two years ago. It's over.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime later - although may have just been his ADHD acting up - he was wrenched out of his horrible past.
The Hat fell off in a dead faint.
Once again under the intense scrutiny of the rest of the school, Nico felt the very Stoll-like need to crack a joke, if a lame one.
"Is the Hat fainting some kind of obscure sign for a certain house, or was it really just that bad for the poor piece of fabric?"
He prodded the Hat with his foot.
The Hat whimpered and curled up as much as he could.
Nico huffed and crossed his arms. "I know I've got some pretty shitty memories, but is fainting really necessary? Melodrama moment."
"Oh shut up," muttered the Hat. "It's a wonder you're not in an asylum."
Nico shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much five months in a coma improves your mental state. But what house do I go to?"
"Anywhere," muttered the Hat. "Bloody anywhere. I'm not going on your head again."
"Suits me," said Nico cheerily. He turned to look out at the Hall again, and Harry put up his hand and gestured for Nico to come over.
He did just that.
"Well that was interesting," said Harry lightly as Nico sat down opposite him.
"In all fairness, I did warn the Hat that my mind was a scary place," said Nico.
"In all fairness, it had to sort you," replied Harry.
Although having your leg amputated can't be a pleasant experience, tacked on James.
Shut up James.
Make me Jude!
Shut it! The both of you!
Sorry Harry.
"Well it failed at that, didn't it?" said Nico.
"It did indeed," acknowledged Harry.
"Well I'd like to see someone read your mind and come out unscathed," interrupted the affronted Sorting Hat.
"No-one can read my mind," Nico told it. "Except my brother, but he doesn't, so no worries."
"You have a brother?" asked Ron.
"Yes."
"Ah," said Ron, turning away again.
"Who's Terminus?" asked Hermione, remembering Nico's earlier rant.
"The border guard of New Rome," replied Nico. "He's so OCD it's not even funny. 'Your hair needs cutting,' he'll tell everyone. 'It's an eighth of an inch below regulation length.' 'You need new trousers; they're a centimetre above regulation length.' My personal favourite it 'Cut out your tongue: it produces far too many non regulation comments.'"
"What's the regulation stuff?" asked someone or other Harry didn't know.
"That's the funniest part: no-one except Terminus knows." Nico snorted. "He wrote a book on regulations, which he gave to the Emperor. He just said, 'What is this?' and Terminus told him, then he threw it away."
"How do you know that?" asked someone else.
"I was there," Nico said, as though it should be obvious. "Family day out and all that jazz."
"Who's the Emperor?"
"My brother. I am ... third, in line to the title right now, although in a few months I'll be seventh." Seeing the curious stares aimed at him, Nico continued: "My sister-in-law is about to have quadruplets, believe it or not."
At the understanding nods, most people turned away, but many continued to stare at both Harry and Nico, who were now deep in conversation about whether a knife beat a sword. They didn't respond as Dumbledore made a quick speech and conjured the feast.
"Don't get me wrong, throwing knives are great, but a sword is so much easier to use," said Nico, piling potatoes onto his plate.
"Yeah, but there's that whole 'it has to be well-balanced' shit that makes no sense," contradicted Harry, who was helping himself to liberal amounts of cottage pie.
"It makes perfect sense."
"To you. You've been using a sword for ... what, five years?"
"Longer. But you'll notice I prefer a sword to a pistol - actually, I take that back. I do prefer a pistol, but a sword it more awesome."
"Of course it is."
"Hey, I'm the sarcastic one here, not you. Leave the sarcasm to the master."
Harry pretended to look around. "Wait, where's Percy?"
"Oh ha, ha. Percy's back home. He's piled under with paperwork."
"Poor thing. Homework is bad enough, but at least it's sometimes interesting."
"True. I looked over Percy's paperwork once. It was full of stuff like tax revenues, how many bucks it's gonna take to repair Cabin Seven after Sherman from Cabin Five took an axe to it, and the stuff from his job in the Mortal world; y'know, whether he should swim at such-and-such a competition, whether such-and-such a campaign was good enough to sell him name to -"
"Wait, what? Sell his name to?"
"Yeah." Nico looked at Harry like he was crazy - which, despite what the Daily Prophet had been saying the previous year, he was not.
Actually, medically speaking, he was.
But no-one knew that, although he was sure that Nico and his family at least suspected. Really, it was amusing how people he had been best friends with for over five years had no idea, but people he had known for a grand total of three months had managed to put the pieces together.
"Believe it or not, the actual competitions don't earn you that much." Nico continued, completely oblivious to Harry's inner musings. "They do, on the other hand, earn you recognition from the public, usually in a positive light, which means companies will pay you big bucks to get you to wear something. You've got to aim it at the right audience, though. If you're aiming your product at kids from a troubled background, most companies will try and get me to support it. If it's being aimed at a high-standing business women, they'd pay my sister or sister-in-law to support it. If it's being aimed at girls who want to look cool, your cousin - my girlfriend, not Dudley - or her half-sister - my cousin-in-law - are paid to support it. It depends on your target audience."
"Thanks Professor di Angelo," said Harry, rolling his eyes.
"Anytime."
Done with piling his potatoes and carrots, Nico looked across the table in a mixture of confusion and disgust. "Is there anything else that's truly healthy here? No vegetarian option? Screw you, Britain."
Harry swallowed his mouthful of cottage pie with difficulty. "What?"
"Apparently, British wizards have no idea what a 'balanced diet' is. Hey, kid, pass the peas, wouldja?"
A scared-looking Third Year hurriedly passed the (fairly small) bowl of peas over.
Nico added what looked to be half the bowl to his plate - which wasn't actually a huge amount, considering the size of the bowl.
"Thank you," he said, passing it back to the boy.
He squeaked, but said no more, evidently too scared to talk.
"What my brother means to say, Mr di Angelo," said pleasant-looking Fifth Year a few seats further towards them, casting the boy one would assume was her brother a stern glare, "is you're welcome. Isn't that right, Alabaster?" she added threateningly.
The boy squeaked again and nodded his head, quickly turning back to his friends.
"I'll teach him manners if it kills me," the Fifth Year muttered, more to herself then to them.
"It's no problem," said Nico, smiling charmingly.
Harry once again marvelled at exactly how many different attitudes Nico could have towards different people, and how quickly he could change.
The girl smiled and extended a deathly pale hand. "I'm Lou. Lou Torrington." Her smile lit up her dark brown eyes really nicely, Harry noticed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry thought he saw Nico's eyes flash with amused recognition, but a second later it was gone.
Harry figured he must have just imagined it.
"Harry Potter," he said, shaking her hand.
"I know," Lou replied.
Her hair was really nice; it looked to be woven with strands of soft, golden thread.
Harry's in lo-ove. Harry's in lo-ove. Harry's in lo-ove, sang Jude and James.
Stop it, said Tom.
Harry and Lou, sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I -
I said, stop it!
Fine. Spoil sport.
Thanks Tom.
Any time.
Harry, being very good at having a conversation with is multiple voices and getting on with stuff at the same time, did something very out-of-character - for him at least (damn his stupid God damn impulses) - and very Nico-like in the meanwhile.
He kissed the back of Lou's hand.
She blushed a delicate shade of rosy pink.
She's cute when she blushes.
The thought leapt, completely unbidden, into Harry's head.
You've only just met her, Harry, he chided himself mentally.
That doesn't mean you can't find her cute, argued the annoying voice.
Shut up, Harry told it.
I will for now.
Harry repressed a sigh. While he was accustom to voices in his head, they did get annoying.
Maybe I'll get myself checked out at St Mungo's, he mused. He dismissed it quickly. Nah.
"'Professor' Snape is glaring at you," said Nico conversationally, making air quotes with one hand around the word 'professor'.
"Isn't he always," replied Harry in the same tone. "Hey, are those peas nice?"
"Not as good as Camp's," said Nico mournfully. "I'm homesick already."
"Cheer up! It's not all bad: you got me, after all."
"While that is a definite plus, Snape looks like he hates me -"
"He hates everyone," said Harry, waving his fork dismissively.
Nico continued like Harry hadn't spoken: " - Dumbledore looks furious with me -"
"While slightly out of character, you did show him up in front of the entire school; it's only to be expected," said Harry.
Again, Nico carried on regardless: " - half the school is listening in to this conversation -"
"They're too nosy for their own good," Harry interrupted again.
This time, Nico acknowledged his input, although not positively. "Says the King of Nosiness. Anyway, and your two best friends, Ron and Hermione, are glaring at me. Probably for having me take away valuable interrogation time."
Harry couldn't find a response to that. The way Nico had emphasised that they were his two best friends, and referring to them by their first names ... Harry felt like he was being almost reprimanded. He was right, though; Harry had barely said two words to his best friends since Nico sat down.
Seeing Harry's internal dilemma, Nico made his choice infinitely easier. "Go talk to them," he said, not unkindly.
Harry nodded and turned to Ron and Hermione, who were rather pointedly ignoring him. "So ... What did you guys do after I was gone?" he asked, feeling more than slightly awkward.
"Nothing much," sniffed Hermione. "Just chatted, you know."
Harry resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. That was evidently not the case. If it were, Hermione would have given him a comment-by-comment dissection of the conversation complete with descriptions of what was going on outside.
He told her as such.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she sniffed again.
She so does, Harry thought, mentally rolling his eyes.
Again, he said as such.
Hermione and Ron merely glared at him.
"What is your problem?" he asked furiously. "Or are there too many to name just one?"
Ouch. That was going to cause him trouble. Damn his smart mouth.
Again, they merely glared harder at him.
Deciding to cut his losses, he made yet another scathing comment.
"You know Muggles have a thing called 'laxative' for cases like yours," he said, sneering. "You should try it sometime."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that, while everyone in the near vicinity was watching, Nico and Lou seemed to be trapped in their own little world, although Harry wouldn't be surprised if Nico was secretly listening in.
You know me too well.
Get out of my head.
Just saying.
Well don't.
In response to your problem, Granger's about to scream about you betraying them. Get a response ready.
Sure enough, as soon as Harry had an alright-he-supposed comment ready, Hermione burst out, "How could you do that Harry? We're your friends and you just ditch us at the first opportunity! Why?"
Harry glared at them. His comment didn't really fit in this context, so luckily a different one sprang to mind. "Is there something wrong with me having more friends then just the two of you?" he spat. "Is it because you can't look past a single occurrence and get to know a person before you judge them? What if I judged you solely on one time you ranted at me and Ron, Hermione? What if I judged you, Ron, on that time you abandoned me after the Triwizard Tournament? Or one time you wouldn't do your homework and decided to play Quidditch instead? Or what if I judged Hermione solely based on one of her homework essays? You know what impression I get of you two? For you, Hermione, I'd get the impression of a bratty, arrogant know-it-all that doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut, and for Ron, I'd get the impression of a disloyal, petty and immature bastard who lets his jealousy get in the way of his friendships. Are they positive? Of course not! So why should I be friends with you two?"
The question sprang on them suddenly. Woefully unprepared for once, Hermione said feebly, "Because we're not really like that."
"Exactly." Harry nodded at them. "You're not. You both kind, caring and loyal, but several episodes don't make me think of you as that. So why do you insist on judging one person by one event? It wasn't even that bad an event. The methods used were just ones you didn't approve of."
"They were Dark," said Hermione.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Dumbledore dabbled in the Dark Arts as a kid," he replied, much to their shock. "You still respect him, though."
"That's different," said Ron.
"Why?"
"Because he's Dumbledore."
"And?"
"Well ... he's ..." Ron struggled for a response, as did Hermione.
Harry sneered at them. "I'm waiting."
They dropped their heads, for once completely stunned.
Hermione looked at him remorsefully.
She should be sorry, said a voice in his head sourly.
Shut it Tom, Harry ordered.
Tom hmphed, but remained quiet.
If you haven't guessed by now, Harry was accustomed to voices in his head. They were all different, so they had names. He didn't choose them; they did. Weird? Yes. But he was Harry Potter, he was allowed to be weird.
And the voices weren't exactly something he could help anyway.
"Sorry Harry," she said, her voice matching her expression. "We didn't think …"
"Its fine," he replied, smiling. "But it's not me you should be apologising to." He nodded at Nico. "He's the one you screwed over."
Ron nodded. "Hey Nico?" he said hesitantly.
"Yes, Ron?" said Nico, responding to Ron's use of his first name.
Ron took a deep breath. "Sorry."
Nico raised an eyebrow. "Apology accepted." He made to return his attention to Lou.
Oh he's pissed, snickered Jude.
"Me too," said Hermione.
"Accepted."
He started talking to Lou again as though nothing had happened.
"Is he always that brief?" asked Ron.
Harry shrugged. "When he's in the middle of a conversation, or it's about a subject matter that doesn't interest him, yes. Generally, no."
*"So what did Professor Slughorn want?" Hermione asked.
"To know what really happened at the Ministry," said Harry.
"Him and everyone else," sniffed Hermione. "People were interrogating us on the train, weren't they, Ron?"
"Yeah," said Ron. "All wanting to know if you really are the Chosen One -"
"There has been much talk on that very subject matter even among the ghosts," interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, inclining his barely connected head towards Harry so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. "Harry Potter knows he can confide in me with complete confidence," I told them. "I would rather die than betray his trust.""
"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead, " Ron observed.*
"Au contraire," drawled Nico, before Nick could respond. "Ghosts aren't actually fully dead. The part of their soul that is meant to be sent to the afterlife stays on Earth. Consequently, ghosts are neither alive or dead; they are stuck in limbo for eternity. For a ghost to say they would rather die than betray someone's trust is actually a very big thing. Consider yourself flattered, Harry."
"My Lord," said Nick, inclining his head towards Nico. "A pleasant surprise."
"Sir Nicholas," replied Nico. "I trust you are well?"
"As well as one can be when they are, as you so accurately said, stuck in limbo," said Nick dryly.
Nico's reply was cut off as Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.
*"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms wide open as though to embrace the whole room.
"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.
She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys.
Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple and old sleeve over his injury.
"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now, to our new students, welcome, and to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you …"*
Nico snorted at the same time Malcolm the voice did.
"Nothing to worry about," Nico mimicked quietly. "It's not 'nothing to worry about'. He's dying."
Those who heard him gasped and relayed it to their friends immediately. Within seconds, the rumour that Dumbledore was dying was known by everyone.
"How long do you reckon he's got?" Harry asked.
Nico looked at Dumbledore calculatingly. "If he tries to stop it? A year, tops. If he doesn't? A month. Maybe two or three, if he's lucky. No more."
That circulated even quicker. Maybe it had to do with the powerful, deathly aura, or maybe the intelligent gleam in his eyes (which had every right to be there: Harry was well aware of Nico's IQ being 173), but no-one questioned that Nico knew what he was talking about.
Dumbledore, seemingly unaware of the comments, carried on with his speech. "And Mr Filch, our caretaker -"
"Who should have been fired a long, long time ago," added Nico.
"- has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought from the shop called Weasleys Wizard Wheezes -"
"Like that'll stop anyone," said Nico contemptuously.
"Those wishing to play for their house Quidditch teams should contact their Heads of House, as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.
"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year, Professor Slughorn" - Slughorn stood … blah blah blah. Read HBP if you want to read the rest of the speech. Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.
"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"
With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories. Harry, who was in no hurry at all to leave with the gawping crowd, nor to get near enough to Malfoy to allow him to retell the story of the nose-stamping, lagged behind, pretending to retie the lace on his trainer, allowing most of Gryffindors to draw ahead of him. Hermione had darted ahead to fulfil her prefect's duty of shepherding the first years, but Ron remained with Harry.
"I'm sorry about how I reacted," he said quietly. "I mean, I should have trusted you. Your instincts are usually right, and if you trust Nico di Angelo … I do too."
"Don't sweat it, mate," said Harry, acutely aware of Nico and Lou still talking at the door. Evidently, the conversation was so engrossing Lou didn't feel it necessary to carry on with the rest of the House.
"Why does Nico burn some of his food?" asked Ron.
Harry looked at him sharply. He had noticed that, but, having spent near all of his early summer around the Jacksons, he was used to there weird habits, and knew the reasons for them. He hadn't even made a note of it.
That didn't mean he was going to tell Ron though.
"Is that all you want to know? Why he burns his food?" he said sharply.
"No," Ron hurriedly denied. "No, no, no. I'm just curious."
Grow a backbone, snarked Tom.
"Ask him then," said Harry.
"But … but … he probably hates me."
Harry shrugged. "Not my problem."
He turned to leave.
"Wait!" said Ron. "Fine. I'll ask him. But if he kills me, I want you to speak at my funeral and tell everyone I'm dead because of you."
"Whatevs."
As they drew closer to the laughing pair, Ron began to lag behind.
"Hey man," said Harry, slapping Nico on the back. "What up?
Nico shrugged. "Nothin' much. Yourself?"
"Ron wants to ask you something," said Harry, deflecting the question.
Nico's eyes glittered, almost maliciously. "Is that so?"
"Yeah," said Ron, gulping. "I was just curious …"
"Yes," said Nico wryly, "I gathered that when Harry there said you had a question."
"I'll just be going," said Lou, turning towards the Entrance Hall.
"Kay," said Nico. "See you Lou."
"Bye Nico. It was nice talking to you again."
"Same."
Nico turned back to Ron and raised his eyebrow. "Your question?"
Bringing up every bit of his Gryffindor courage, Ron said, "Why do you burn your food?"
Harry, personally, had no idea what Nico reply to this question would be. On the one hand, when he had asked, Percy had answered levelly and informatively, just like with every other question Harry had. On the other hand, that was Percy, and after they'd all been classified as "friends" for a while. Ron, on the other hand, was not Nico's friend, and Percy wasn't here to answer regardless.
Nico merely quirked an eyebrow. "I'm surprised. Truly. You don't seem like the type to come out with intelligent questions. Then again, neither did Harry."
"Feeling the love mate," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "Just feeling the love."
"In answer to your question," continued Nico, pointedly ignoring his now pouting friend, "there's a superstition back home. You don't sacrifice part of your food and you die, essentially. Of course, there's a whole bunch of mysterious rumours and shit surrounding it, but that's basically it."
"You never really struck me as the superstitious type."
"Oh, I'm not," Nico snorted. "Only thing is, someone decided to call out this rumour. Didn't sacrifice any of their food for three days. Naturally, they started proclaiming it was false; unnecessary. Next day, they went missing. Two days after that, we found their charred corpse hanging from a tree in the forest."
"Really?" Ron seemed fascinated. "How'd he die?"
"Magic," said Nico. "Nearest we could figure, the wards draw strength from the sacrifice of food at dinner, instead of drawing it from magic cast inside the walls, like Hogwarts. To make sure its wards are strong enough, the … spirit of Camp, I suppose … uses magic to make sure everyone keeps sacrificing to it. Should someone stop, they are putting Camp at risk, so are deemed a traitor, and the magic surrounding Camp kills them on charge of treason."
Ron's eyes widened. "Little bit extreme, don't you think?"
"No," said Nico nonchalantly. "It's just how we roll."
With that parting comment, he turned on his heels and left.
Sorry for the abrupt ending; I felt the chapter was dragging on too much with too little happening. It was a crap chapter anyway, and thanks if you're still with me.
To anyone who's wondering, yes, Lou Torrington will play a bigger role in the story. Possibly a controversial role, but a big role none the less. Just a hint, Lou Torrington is NOT her real name. If you can guess what it is, kudos to you, you can have a cookie! But you must tell me!
A few hints:
Her appearance.
Her name.
Her brother's name.
She's part of Nico's REAL family, not the Mist-made one.
As you may have guessed by the above comment, she is not an OC
Au revoir!
DD
P.S. Merry Christmas! I'll be going skiing for a week or so on Boxing Day - won't be back till January. I hope you all have fun - I hope I will, too, seeing as the Franch Alps apparently have a shortage of snow this year. Sigh. Ah well.