Rising from Shadowed Ashes

GreenCrystal19

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Heroes of Olympus; they belong to respective authors; J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan. Cover art by Viktoria Ridzel (Viria/viria13/vika) as usual. Her art is amazing; she is now the official portrait artist.


Author's Notes: Hey guys! I've been been QUITE busy recently, so I've been neglecting my writing/reading a little. But I read the necessary chapters from Prisoner of Azkaban, and am finally ready to start writing this chapter! Whee!

Reader discretion is advised. This chapter contains boggarts, Grims, and hippogriffs. Just kidding! Anyone can read, LOL.

The title is a play on the chapter name "Talons and Tea Leaves" from the actual book.

Warning: this chapter will be LONG. Very, VERY long. Like, VERY long. Like, very, very, VERY-okay, I'll stop now. Enjoy!


Chapter 5: Buckbeak and Boggarts

Nico's PoV

Nico woke up when Ambra and Crookshanks started fighting. Somehow, Crookshanks had made it into the boy's dormitory, and had gotten angry with Ambra when she tried to prevent him from eating Ron's rat, Scabbers. Again.

Sighing, Nico grabbed Crookshanks and tossed him out the door; he landed on his feet, hissed, and ran downstairs. Nico found Scabbers and put him back on Ron's nightstand. "You're awfully thin," Nico told the rat. "Ron wasn't kidding; you look almost as bad as I did...after Tartarus." The rat looked confused. Nico wondered why he wasn't terrified; most animals hated Nico. "You be careful. Crookshanks hates you, if you haven't noticed."

Nico stretched, looking around. His first day at Hogwarts. Oh, great. Did they have classes? Probably. Sighing, Nico got dressed, not bothering to wear his uniform. Ambra took her usual perch on Nico's shoulder; Nico grabbed his school bag and he padded downstairs—the sooner he got away from Gryffindor Tower, the sooner Nico would be safe from his nosy classmates. Also, he was hungry.

As Nico was about to head out the portrait hole, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. That could only mean one thing. "Where are you going?" Harry asked.

Nico turned and gave Harry a cold look. "Breakfast," he said. Ambra cawed in agreement. Before Harry could ask anything else, Nico whirled and darted out the portrait hole, before walking quickly down the corridor. Nico got lost pretty quickly; the halls of Hogwarts were vast and confusing. Like the Labyrinth. Do not start thinking about that place, Nico told himself.

Nico aimlessly wandered around for a little while, halfheartedly trying to find the Great Hall. As Nico walked into a four-way corridor, a glowing silver figure glided through him. Nico jumped and shoved it away from him; the figure became solid as soon as Nico touched it. "Excuse me," the ghost said. Seeing Nico, he changed course in a flash. "My lord! I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington! How can I help you?"

Nico rolled his eyes. Magic ghosts. Of course. Hades would be triggered. "Three things," Nico said, irritated. "One: Don't call me lord. Just Nico. Two: Pass that on to the other ghosts. And three: Do you know where the Great Hall is?"

"Of course lo-" Sir Nicholas cut himself off. "Nico! I'd be happy to help."

Nico followed the ghost as he led Nico to the Great Hall. As they walked (or glided, in Sir Nicholas' case) the ghost told Nico all about Hogwarts: about Quidditch, a story played on brooms, about the various Hogwarts feasts, about the House Cup, and lastly, about Hogsmeade.

"Wait," Nico said. "Everyone goes to Hogsmeade? Not just selected students?"

Sir Nicholas gave Nico a funny look. "Yes," he said. "You should have gotten a form. Didn't you?"

Nico blinked, then checked his bag. Indeed, he did have a form. However, it wasn't like Hades would have time to—Nico's eyes darted to the bottom of the page. ᾍδης was written on the bottom of the page—Greek for "Hades." Below that was a note reading: And don't do anything dangerous or stupid! Doctor's orders! -Will Solace

Nico blinked. "Since when was Will my doctor?" He asked himself.

"What?" Sir Nicholas asked. The ghost seemed almost friendly now; not as nervous as before.

"Will's my...um...friend from back in New York," Nico said.

Sir Nicholas nodded. "And then there's your father."

Nico nodded. "Um...can you do me a favor?" Nico asked. The ghost waited. "Don't mention my father to anyone. Or anything else you know about me. Make sure the other ghosts know."

Sir Nicholas nodded, before stopping. "Here we are," he said.

Nico looked up; they were in the Entrance Hall. "Thanks," he said. "See you around?"

Sir Nicholas nodded before gliding off, straight through the wall. Even so, he was a lot more civilized than the Roman Lares; who would always stand inside of you, not just do it once by accident; in addition, most Lares had horrible conversation skills, in Nico's experience.

Nico walked into the Great Hall and found a spot at the Gryffindor table, which had a healthy spattering of students and was filling quickly. He munched on some bagels, remembering a dumb song from Camp Half-Blood that would loop around and around until someone replaced one of the words with ice cream. Leo had liked that song; he must have enjoyed annoying people. Leo had also liked to sing "WE'RE GOING ON A TRIP ON OUR FAVORITE FESTUS SHIP/SOARING THROUGH THE SKY/LITTLE DEMI-GUYS!" It had annoyed the dam schist out of Nico.

Nico still couldn't believe that Leo was alive—he was sure that he'd died. But if Leo was alive, that meant that the camp wouldn't need to blame Nico for his death. They might not hate him. Nico remembered Hazel and Will saying that the campers didn't hate Nico, but he shook the thought off. I'm the son of Hades. I'll never belong.

Nico then realized three things: firstly, he'd been staring at his bagel (the one he'd taken one bite out of) for the past ten minutes, he hadn't even touched his orange juice, and lastly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were coming towards him. Nico gave them an cautious glance. "Can I help you?"

Ron returned Nico's glare. "No." He proceeded to sit down and load his plate with British delicacies. Nico managed another bite of bagel, thinking about some way to make sure Leo was alive. "All I can do is wait," he muttered. "Wait, and hope this works."

"Hope what works?" Harry asked, the evil presence inside him rearing up like a snake. Nico wondered if he had enhanced hearing or something, along with superb annoying-Nico skills.

"Nothing. Just some news about a friend of mine." He gulped down his orange juice, and stood up. Ambra flapped down from one of the rafters under the ceiling (which was blue with white clouds) and landed on Nico's shoulder. She cooked her head like, Have you got food? Food? Anything? Not finding food, she let out a disappointed caw.

"You had food, Ambra," Nico said. "I saw you, girl. In fact, you probably ate more than I did." Nico scratched the rough feathers under Ambra's chin. Nico walked away, checking his schedule. First class: Divination; Sybill Trelawney. North Tower. Apparently the teachers had signed him up for electives (which were supposedly voluntary classes) without his permission. Oh, well. Maybe he'd learn something. Even so, Nico didn't need any more chaos in his life. He didn't even know what Divination was, although he'd heard the word before; he just hadn't bothered to memorize its meaning.

Somehow, Nico found the North Tower without getting lost. However, there was a small problem: the North Tower lacked a normal door. Instead, there was a trapdoor with no handle. Since Nico had arrived early, he decided to wait for the rest of class to arrive.

Ambra pecked at Nico's hair. A moment later, she cawed. Nico looked up from his schedule, which was in English and therefore, nearly impossible to read. Nico could sense it before he saw it: Harry Potter and his friends were in this class. Nico stifled a groan. Seriously? Dumbledore actually gave me the same schedule as Harry? Seriously? Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Meanwhile, the trapdoor had opened of its own accord, revealing a silver ladder. Upon entering the classroom, Nico thought it looked more like a teahouse or the Oracle's cave at Camp Half-Blood than a classroom. Cushions and armchairs dotted the room, and instead of desks, there were small round tables. There was also a fireplace, and in front of it, a winged armchair. A heavy, sweet perfume filled the room, making Nico feel sleepy; shelves around the room were filled with all kinds of items: tattered decks of cards, ornate china cups and teapots, crystal balls.

Before Nico could begin to wonder what the strange objects were, a voice spoke from the corner of the room: "Welcome," it said, misty and mysterious. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last.

A woman stepped out of the shadows; Nico assumed she was Professor Trelawney. She was very thin; many chain and bead necklaces hung around her neck, and her hands and arms had enough bracelets to make even the Aphrodite campers cringe. Professor Trelawney also wore a spangled shawl, and her large glasses magnified her eyes so she looked like some odd sparkly insect.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said. Nico was not her child. The class hesitantly clambered into armchairs or cushions. Nico, of course, ended up at the same table as Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who sat in the winged armchair, directly in front of the fireplace. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye. So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can take you only so far in this field. . . ."

Harry and Ron turned to smirk at Hermione. Nico glanced over; she looked extremely started at Professor Trelawney's statement. Nico figured she must like books.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney went on, as Nico began to realize what exactly Divination was. Oh gods, no... "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," Professor Trelawney snapped at Neville. "Is your grandmother well?"

Neville glanced around nervously. "I think so..."

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued: "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at a girl with dark hair, "beware a red-haired man."

The girl glanced at Ron, then scooted away. Nico, meanwhile, was trying not to have a panic attack. Divination. Predicting the future. Prophecies. "Oh no," Nico said to himself. "No, no, no. Not this. Not again."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gave Nico some odd looks. Nico figured he must have looked pretty weird; his pale hands clasped the sides of his armchair and he probably looked terrified. Nico assumed a calm expression and forced himself to relax.

Professor Trelawney continued he dramatic speech, and then gave instructions: get your tea, drink it, study the dregs. Simple.

Nico followed the others and got his teapot filled with steaming hot liquid. The four then went back to their table and started drinking their tea. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked surprised at how hot the tea was, but Nico drank it easily. When you've drank from the river Phlegethon in Tartarus, hot tea was no biggie.

"Right," said Ron as they all opened their books at pages five and six. "What can you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Harry. Nico had to agree with him there; Ron's teacup was filled with what indeed looked like a lot of soggy brown stuff.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom. Nico felt that he did not need to see past the mundane any more than he already could; he'd seen enough to last him a lifetime. And a deathtime as well. Or afterlifetime. Whatever.

Harry cleared his throat and continued: "Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross . . ." He consulted Unfogging the Future, and Nico attempted to read his copy, with little sucess. "That means you're going to have 'trials and suffering' — sorry about that — but there's a thing that could be the sun . . . hang on . . . that means 'great happiness' . . . so you're going to suffer but be very happy. . . ."

"You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me," said Ron, and they both had to stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.

"My turn . . ." Ron peered into Harry's teacup, his forehead wrinkled with effort. "There's a blob a bit like a bowler hat," he said. "Maybe you're going to work for the Ministry of Magic. . . ." He turned the teacup the other way up. "But this way it looks more like an acorn. . . . What's that?" He scanned his copy of Unfogging the Future. "'A windfall, unexpected gold.' Excellent, you can lend me some . . . and there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like an animal . . . yeah, if that was its head . . . it looks like a hippo . . . no, a sheep . . ."

Nico looked on, amused. If this was the extent of wizarding Divination, he would probably be fine. Or...not.

Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter. "Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Ron, sweeping over and snatching Harry's cup from him. Everyone went quiet to watch. Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise. "The falcon . . . my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her. "Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."

Harry and Ron stared at her with a mixture of amazement and admiration. Nico wondered, for the hundredth time, who "You-Know-Who" was.

Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it. "The club . . . an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup. . . ."

"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

"The skull . . . danger in your path, my dear. . . ." Nico watched warily. This class was taking a turn for the worst...Professor Trelawney turned the cup again, gasped, and screamed. There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed. "My dear boy . . . my poor, dear boy . . . no . . . it is kinder not to say . . . no . . . don't ask me. . . ."

"What is it, Professor?" said one of the Gryffindor boys in Nico's dormitory. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Nico's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup; Nico stiffened. He did like so many new people crowding around him.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."

"The what?" said Harry. Nico was confused, but nearly everybody else clapped their hands to their mouths in horror.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!" Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair.

"I don't think it looks like a Grim," she said flatly.

Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike. "You'll forgive me for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little receptivity to the resonances of the future."

Another boy from Nico's dormitory was tilting his head from side to side. "It looks like a Grim if you do this," he said, with his eyes almost shut, "but it looks more like a donkey from here," he said, leaning to the left.

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" said Harry, taking everyone by surprise. For once, Nico agreed with Harry. Why was the future so full of death all the time?

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes . . . please pack away your things. . . ." Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags. Even Ron was avoiding Harry's eyes. "Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear" — she pointed at Neville — "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Nico descended Professor Trelawney's ladder and the winding stair in silence, then set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson.

It took Nico so long to find her classroom, even walking with the more experienced students, that Nico was barely on time. Harry and Nico both chose seats right at the back of the room; the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at Harry, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment.

Professor McGonagall surveyed the class. "Mr. di Angelo," she said, "why aren't you wearing your uniform?"

"Um..." Nico started. "I..."

Professor McGonagall stared down her nose. "I won't say anything more this time, but please refrain from not following the dress code in the future," she said, before beginning her lesson.

Nico had zoned out; he didn't hear Professor McGonagall's explanation of Animagi, and didn't even look up when his professor transformed into a tabby cat. Besides, Frank Zhang could turn into all kinds of animals, most more impressive than a tabby cat.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand. "Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?" Everyone stared at her.

"Me," said Harry, finally.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —" Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney —" She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione laughed. Being frightened of soggy brown stuff was harder to pull off, away from Professor Trelawney's classroom with its fumes and dim red light. Nico still wasn't certain, though. As he'd told Hazel, he knew there would be death—and soon. Nico wasn't the only one. Ron still looked worried, and the girl with curly brown hair from Divination whispered, "But what about Neville's cup?"

After class, Nico's companions headed towards the Great Hall, Nico himself trailing along behind them.

"Ron, cheer up," said Hermione, pushing a dish of stew toward him. "You heard what Professor McGonagall said." Ron spooned stew onto his plate and picked up his fork but didn't start.

"Harry," he said, in a low, serious voice, "you haven't seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys'."

Ron let his fork fall with a clatter.

"Probably a stray," said Hermione calmly.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she had gone mad. "Hermione, if Harry's seen a Grim, that's — that's bad," he said. "My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!"

"Coincidence," said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" said Ron, starting to get angry. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"There you are, then," said Hermione in a superior tone. "They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim's not an omen, it's the cause of death! And Harry's still with us because he's not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I'd better kick the bucket then!"

Nico cleared his throat. "She does have a point, Ron," he said, folding his hands. "Most death omens aren't genuine. How many black dogs do you think there are? Most of them are just dogs."

Ron glared at Nico, then at Hermione, who opened her bag, took out her new Arithmancy book, and propped it open against the juice jug. "I think Divination seems very woolly," she said, searching for her page. "A lot of guesswork, if you ask me."

"There was nothing woolly about the Grim in that cup!" said Ron hotly. Turning on Nico, he added: "And how do you know about death omens? Did you send that Grim!?"

"You didn't seem quite so confident when you were telling Harry it was a sheep," said Hermione coolly. "Nico may be right."

Nico, meanwhile, glared at Ron. "I know about death omens because of—actually...I'd rather not say. It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"YES IT IS, IF IT HAS TO DO WITH HARRY! And you—" he turned on Hermione—" Professor Trelawney said you didn't have the right aura! You just don't like being bad at something for a change! And why do you keep defending Nico of all people?! He doesn't even belong here!" He had touched a nerve. Two, actually.

Hermione slammed her Arithmancy book down on the table so hard that bits of meat and carrot flew everywhere. "If being good at Divination means I have to pretend to see death omens in a lump of tea leaves, I'm not sure I'll be studying it much longer! That lesson was absolute rubbish compared with my Arithmancy class!" She snatched up her bag and stalked away.

Ron frowned after her. "What's she talking about?" he said to Harry. "She hasn't been to an Arithmancy class yet."

That was true, Nico thought. Then how, and why, did Hermione know about her Arithmancy class? Nico shrugged it off, before storming after Hermione.


Nico's PoV

After lunch, Nico walked beside Harry, Ron, and Hermione, silent, as they went down the sloping lawns to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He'd stomped around the castle's corridors, avoiding the ghosts until one informed him that class would start in five minutes.

Nico spotted some of the Slytherins. A boy with a face like a ferret and pale blond hair was talking animatedly to a pair of hulking Slytherins who looked like trolls: big and stupid.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with a black boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start. "C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

Nico was fairly certain that Hagrid wasn't completely human; he was either part monster or part giant. Nico warily decided to keep his distance as Hagrid led them around the edge of the forest until they'd reached a large pen with nothing in it. "Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it — make sure yeh can see — now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books —"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of the blond boy.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" the blonde repeated. He took out his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope. Other people took theirs out too; some had belted their book shut; others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn' — hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" said Hagrid, looking crestfallen. The class all shook their heads. "Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," said Hagrid, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look —" He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" The Slytherin sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

"I — I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said the blonde. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Nico filed away the information: the boy's name was Malfoy, he was a jerk, and Harry hated him. Harry at least wasn't as much of a jerk as Malfoy.

Hagrid was looking downcast. "Righ' then," he said, seeming to have lost his thread, "so — so yeh've got yer books an' — an' — now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on . . ." He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight. Nico hoped the "Magical Creatures" didn't like demigods—as lunch.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him —"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry repeated.

"Careful, Potter, there's a dementor behind you —" Malfoy noticed Nico. His gray eyes glittered. "And you're the new student," he said. "You passed it on the train too?"

Nico glared at him, and Malfoy changed course.

"So, you hate Potter here as well?" He said, offering his hand. "Draco Malfoy," he said.

"Nico di Angelo," Nico said coldly, not returning Malfoy's handshake.

Malloy looked a touch uncertain. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," he said. "I can help you there."

Nico glared at Malfoy some more. The wrong sort. Those three words described Nico quite perfectly, which made him angry. "I will never be friends with you," he said coldly. "I already have friends. Which is probably more than you could say."

Malloy opened his mouth, but before he could continue what was turning into a roasting session of "Your mama's" and the likes, the girl from divination with the brown hair squealed. "Oooooooh!" She pointed toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Some decidedly dangerous creatures were approaching: their bodies and hind quarters were that of horses, but their front legs, beads, and wings of eagles-dangerous looking birds with sharp beaks and talons. Nico instinctively prepared to draw his sword.

The creatures had a thick collar each, and Hagrid held all the chains, urging the creatures towards the class, where only a flimsy wooden fence would stand between Nico and whatever those were. "Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Nico could sort of see that—the hippogriffs had smooth coats that shifted smoothly from feathers to fine fur, ranging from stormy gray to gleaming chestnut to darkest black. Not that Nico could appreciate this—he'd faced plenty of beautiful monsters and had become somewhat immune to the effect.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer —" No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, approached the fence cautiously, Nico reluctantly following—mostly to keep Harry out of trouble. Maybe if he saved the "Boy Who Lived" he'd be allowed to return to camp. Or at least, to America.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

The Slytherins didn't seem to be listening; Nico had a feeling they were plotting revenge on him.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt.

"Right — who wants ter go first?" The students backed off as the hippogriffs tossed their heads and flapped their wings, pawing at the ground like a horse would.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

"Come on," Malfoy said, looking directly at Nico and Harry. "Surely someone here is brave enough to go near those...hippogriffs."

"I'll do it," said Nico. He knew that was exactly what Malfoy wanted, but even so, Nico did not want to look weak. Also, if anything happened, he'd know how to defend himself—Nico had faced worse.

"Alright, Nico," Hagrid said. "Right then—let's see how yeh get along with Buckbeak." He untied a gray hippogriff and led it closer to Nico. Malfoy watched eagerly. Nico glared at him before turning his gaze on Buckbeak.

"Easy, now, Nico," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink. . . . Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much. . . ."

Nico kept his eyes open and watched the hippogriff, who turned his head sharply and eyed Nico with one of his orange eyes, sizing him up. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Nico . . . now, bow . . ."

Nico didn't want to expose the back of his neck to Buckbeak—Demigod Rules 101-but he did as he was told, for once. Nico gave a short bow and then looked up. The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. He didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right — back away, now, easy does it —" But then, to Nico's surprise, Buckbeak sank into what was an unmistakable bow, still looking at Nico.

"Well done!" Hagrid said enthusiastically, before adding: "Right—yeh can touch him! Pay his beak, go on!" Nico wasn't very happy with this arrangement; animals hated being touched by him. Even so, he patted Buckbeak's beak several times; and the hippogriff closed his eyes lazily, like Ambra did sometimes. The Gryffindors broke into applause; although the Slytherins held back.

"Righ' then, Nico," said Hagrid. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him!"

This was more than Nico had expected. Zeus didn't like sons of Hades or Poseidon flying. Nico did not want to be blasted to bits, thank you very much. But there was no stopping Hagrid.

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that. . . ." Nico followed Hagrid's instructions and reluctantly mounted the hippogriff; he didn't know where he was supposed to hold on as Buckbeak's neck was covered in feathers.

"Go on, then!" Hagrid said, slapping Buckbeak's hindquarters. Buckbeak snapped his wings open and leaped into the air; Nico barely had time to hold on. Buckbeak's wings beat on either side of Nico; almost tossing him off; and the rocking of the hippogriff's hindquarters made Nico think he might be sick. Nico silently prayed to Zeus the entire time; and barely held on during Buckbeak's landing.

"Good work!" roared Hagrid as the Gryffindors cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?" Less afraid now, the other students entered the paddock; and waited while Hagrid released each hippogriff. Ron and Hermione practiced on a chestnut one; Harry got Buckbeak, who responded just as well to him as he had to Nico—probably better, in fact.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle took over Buckbeak, after Harry was done. He bowed to Malfoy, which surprised Nico—he figured Buckbeak only liked decent people—although Harry didn't quite fit that description. (Neither did Nico, in his opinion.)

Malfoy was now patting Buckbeak condescendingly. "This is very easy," he said, so Nico could hear. "I knew it must have been, if Potter and di Angelo could do it...I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he asked Buckbeak. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

Buckbeak reared and slashed his talons; Malfoy screamed, and Hagrid rushed over, restraining Buckbeak even as he pulled and snapped his beak at Malfoy. The latter was curled in the grass, and proceeded to yell: "I'm dying! I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" Hagrid said, panicked. "Someone help me—gotta get him outta here—" Hermione ran and held the gate open as Hagrid and Malfoy passed. Malfoy had a long, deep gash on his arm; although Nico had gotten worse before.

The Slytherins were all shouting about Hagrid. "They should fire him straight away!" said one girl, who was in tears.

"It was Malfoy's fault!" snapped Dean Thomas. Malloy's two "friends" flexed their muscles threateningly. They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" said the girl, and they all watched her run up the marble staircase. The other Slytherins, still muttering about Hagrid, headed away in the direction of their dungeon common room; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Nico proceeded upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.

"D'you think he'll be all right?" said Hermione nervously.

"'Course he will. Madam Pomfrey can mend cuts in about a second," said Harry,

"That was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid's first class, though, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him. . . ."

They were among the first to reach the Great Hall at dinnertime, hoping to see Hagrid, but he wasn't there.

"They wouldn't fire him, would they?" said Hermione anxiously, not touching her steak-and-kidney pudding.

"They'd better not," said Ron, who wasn't eating either.

Nico and Harry were watching the Slytherin table. A large group including Malfoy's friends was huddled together, deep in conversation. Nico was sure they were cooking up their own version of how Malfoy had been injured.

"Well, you can't say it wasn't an interesting first day back," said Ron gloomily. They went up to the crowded Gryffindor common room after dinner and tried to do the homework Professor McGonagall had given them, but all four of them kept breaking off and glancing out of the tower window. Nico still could barely reading his textbook.

"There's a light on in Hagrid's window," Harry said suddenly. Ron looked at his watch. "If we hurried, we could go down and see him. It's still quite early. . . ."

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, and Nico saw her glance at Harry.

"I'm allowed to walk across the grounds," Harry said pointedly. "Sirius Black hasn't got past the dementors here, has he?"

So they put their things away and headed out of the portrait hole. Nico stayed behind, staring at his homework. An interesting day. Ron was certainly right about that.


Nico's PoV

Nico was sitting in Potions class, attempting to get his wizard's robes untangled. He'd developed a compromise—it had two days since he'd first arrived—two long, agonizing days. Nico hated wearing full uniform, so he'd started wearing his robes over his typical outfit of a black t-shirt and black jeans. Professor McGonagall had raised an eyebrow at him, but hadn't said anything, fortunately.

Snape was about to call attendance when Draco Malfoy walked in, acting as though he'd just saved the world. A Slytherin girl asked, "How is it, Draco? Does it hurt much?"

"Yeah," Malfoy replied, assuming a brave face, then winking at Crabbe and Goyle once the girl had looked away.

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Snape said. Nico already disliked Snape; he seemed like the type of teacher who played favorites. Nico was soon proven right.

After Professor Snape magicked the instructions onto the board, Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Nick's cluster of tables. And his reason for doing this made Nico want to punch him in the nose.

"Sir," Malfoy started, "I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm—"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," Snape said, not even bothering to look up.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," Ron hissed at Malfoy as he began cutting up his roots.

Malfoy smirked. "Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots."

A while later, Malfoy drawled: "Professor, Wesley's mutilating my roots, sir."

Snape studied the roots, which were in uneven pieces, chopped roughly and not at all carefully. "Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But sir—!" Ron's roots were in perfectly even pieces; he'd spent the last half an hour cutting them.

"Now," Snape said.

When Snape looked away, Nico shoved his own roots at Draco. He didn't particularly care about his potion, and he wasn't going to let Malfoy get away with this.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows before saying, "And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned. And these catapillers chopped."

Snape surveyed the scene—Malfoy with Nico's roots, Ron with his own, and Nico with Malfoy's. His dark eyes burned. "Di Angelo, skin Malfoy's shrivelfig and cut his catapillers. Potter, measure and pour Malfoy's leech juice."

Nico fumed with anger, but he did as Professor Snape said, and prepared Malfoy's potion ingredients for him—doing as bad a job as was marginally acceptable. Malfoy smirked at Harry, his gray eyes glittering maliciously. "Seen your pal Hagrid lately?"

"None of your business," Ron said angrily.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," Malfoy went on. "Father's not very happy about my injury—"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.

Nico glared at Malfoy. "What he said," he added.

Malfoy ignored them. "—he's gained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this—" —he gave a fake sigh— "who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again?"

Nico glared at Malfoy some more. The little brat thought his father had influence—

Meanwhile, Harry beheaded his caterpillar. "So that's why you're putting it on. To try and get Hagrid fired."

"Well," said Malfoy, "partly, Potter. But there are other benefits as well. Weasley, slice my rat spleen for me."

Meanwhile, Neville Longbottom wasn't doing so well either, sitting next to Hermione. "Orange, Longbottom," Snape said as he scooped some up and let it fall back into the cauldron, so everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything ever penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

Neville was on the verge of tears as Hermione said, "Please, sir, please, I could help Neville put it right-"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger." Turning to Neville, Snape added: "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson, we will feed a few drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage you to do it properly."

Nico was furious. Snape couldn't go around doing that—he'd had a teacher like Snape at Westover Hall once, and he had hated that teacher. Nico and Bianca had pulled the largest prank ever seen during that class—they'd been legendary all over school for about two days before everyone forgot.

Nico was distracted when when a boy in his dormitory, Seamus Finnigan, said: "Hey Harry, have you heard? Daily Prophet this morning—they reckon Sirius Black's been sighted."

"Who?" Nico asked. Everyone stared.

"You don't know who Sirius Black is?" Malfoy asked, delighted. "He's a murderer; killed twelve muggles with one curse. Escaped from Azkaban too! First one ever! And Potter's probably planning to catch him single-handedly—"

"What?" Harry said. "Yeah, right."

Malfoy smiled again. "Of course, if it was me, I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" Ron asked angrily.

"Don't you know, Potter?" Malfoy asked, eyes narrowed.

"Know what?" Harry asked, getting tired of Malfoy's antics. Nico agreed.

Malfoy laughed, then said: "Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck. Want to leave it to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked angrily.

However, before Malfoy could respond, Snape called: "You should have finished adding your ingredients by now; this potion needs to stew before it can be drunk, so clear away while it simmers and then we'll test Longbottom's..."

The students headed to the stone basin to wash their supplies. "What did Malfoy mean?" Harry muttered to Ron, sticking his hands under the icy water. "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me—yet."

"You don't know that," Nico said darkly. "He could be working behind the scenes. If it was me, I'd—"

"So you're working with Black, are you?" Ron asked, whirling on Nico.

"I never said that," Nico said angrily. "I was trying to help you! So maybe I can get out of this stupid school and go back to New York!"

Nico stormed back to his seat. He watched as Snape tested Neville's potion (which worked) and as Snape took points from Gryffindor, as Hermione had helped Nico. Then he was first out of the classroom, slipping down a side corridor to avoid his fellow students. This day was not going well.


After lunch, the class headed to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, with Professor Lupin. Nico, for once, entered the classroom feeling somewhat confident—he practically lived to "defend against the Dark arts." Or use them, in some cases. The professor wasn't present when they entered the room; the class took out their books, quills, and parchment. When Professor Lupin arrived, he smiled and said, "Good afternoon. Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

The other students seemed curious; Nico figured that practical lessons must be rare events. "Right then," Professor Lupin said, once everyone was ready. "If you'd please follow me."

On their way to wherever Professor Lupin was leading them, they ran into Peeves the Poltergeist. Nico had heard that he was michevious and a nuisance to Argus Filch, but generally respected the teachers at Hogwarts.

Apparently that wasn't the case with Professor Lupin, however. Peeves was stuffing gum into a keyhole, and completely ignored Lupin, instead mocking him. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin—"

Professor Lupin just smiled. "I'd take that gum out of that keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Peeves ignored Lupin, who sighed and told the class over his shoulder: "This is a useful little spell. Please watch closely." Raising his wand to shoulder height, Professor Lupin pointed it at Peeves and said: "Waddiwasi!"

TThe gum shot out of the keyhole and into Peeves' left nostril; he zoomed away cursing.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas.

The rest of the class seemed to agree; as Lupin said "Thank you, Dean. Shall we proceed?" the class followed with increased respect.

Lupin led them to a room with a plauqe labeled "Staffroom."

"Inside, please," Lupin said, and the class filed inside. The room was long, with paneled walls, and full of mismatched chairs.

Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair; upon the class's entry, stood. "Leave it open," Snape said, as Lupin made to close the door. "I'd rather not witness this." Turning, he added: "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Misa Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville blushed; but Professor Lupin just raised his eyebrows and said: "I was hoping Neville would assist me in the first stage of the operation, and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville blushed even more; Snape gave Lupin a look of dislike and left, shutting the door behind him.

"Now, then," Professor Lupin continued, beckoning the students toward an old wardrobe, which wobbled suddenly and banged against the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," Lupin said, as a few people jumped back, startled. "There's a Boggart in there."

The students looked apprehensive; but Nico had no idea what a Boggart was.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces. Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks—I've met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock." Lupin paused, then added: "This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?"

HHermione raised she hand; when called on, she answered: "It's a shapeshifter. It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most." Nico thought about his worst fears and got a sick feeling in his stomach, as though skeletal butterflies were fluttering around down there.

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Professor Lupin said proudly. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he's alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us must fears."

The feeling in Nico's stomach intensified. If he was forced to reveal his darkest secret, in front of the whole class...he didn't know what he might do.

Professor Lupin continued: "This means that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Harry answered awkwardly. "Er—because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," Lupin responded. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a boggart who made that very mistake—tried to frighten two people at once and became a half slug. Not remotely frightening."

Nico found this knowledge somewhat relieving, but he still couldn't stop his hands from shaking a little. Nico busied himself by twisting his ring around—something he always did when he was nervous.

"The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a boggart is laughter." Nico's confidence about D.A.D.A. went out the window. "What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing."

Lupin looked around before continuing: "We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please: riddikulus!"

The class repeated the charm.

"Good, very good," Professor Lupin said. "But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

Neville looked terrified as the wardrobe shook again.

"Right, Neville. First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's first attempt went unheard; on his second he stammered: "Professor Snape..."

Lupin looked thoughtful, then proceeded to instruct Neville to force Professor Boggart Snape into his grandmother's clothes: a tall hat with a stuffed vulture, a long green dress, a fox-fur scarf, and lastly, a large red handbag.

Lupin then said: "If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn. I would like all of you to think of the scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical..."

After a few moments, in which Nico remembered Tartarus, the bronze jar, and his incident with Cupid all too well, Professor Lupin started talking. "Neville, we're going to back away, let you have a clear field, alright? I'll call the next person forward...Everybody back now, Neville can get a clear shot—"

The students backed off against the walls as Lupin said to Neville: "On the count of three, Neville. One—two—three—now!"

The boggart stepped out of the wardrobe in the form of Professor Snape. "Ri-ri-riddikulus!" Neville squeaked. Snape stumbled, now dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothes; everyone except Nico and Harry burst out laughing.

Nico was full of dread; he knew exactly what would happen and didn't like it one bit. He'd made a silent promise to himself that no one would ever humiliate him like Cupid had, not ever again. Nico barely noticed as the others faced their normal Boggarts—a mummy, a banshee, a rat, a rattlesnake—soon, it was Ron's turn.

His Boggart was a giant spider; its legs disappeared and it rolled over and stopped at Nico's feet. The spider twitched, then became a whirl of colors and shapes. Nico could imagine a little sign over it: loading...loading...loading... is not responding...please restart the program and try again...

Nico clutched his wand; he stared at the Boggart, waiting, waiting, waiting...he could feel himself shaking, like when someone's so tense and full of pent-up energy that they have to do something with it.

Finally, the Boggart turned into...a wall of mist. The mist surrounded Nico, like one of those virtual reality things that mortals loved. Then, it solidified into...Tartarus. Nico couldn't even see the classroom anymore; just the wasteland of the pit, all around him—he was back. But there would be no escape this time. The mist image started churning, and looking at it gave Nico nausea.

Then, the mist actually solidified, and Nico was back in an airtight bronze jar; except the air in the jar was Tartarus air—poisoned and menacing. Nico froze, his eyes darting around. "Riddikulus!" he said. But nothing happened. How could this be made into something amusing?

Memories flashed behind Nico's eyes—the worst ones, the ones Nico had tried to bury so deep they'd never resurface. The jar, Tartarus, turning Bryce Lawrence into a ghost—everyone terrified of him—Bianca's death, and then even before that—their mother's death, being sent to Westover...meeting Percy.

The jar disappeared, but the mist was back, forming a tornado-like formation around Nico. Vaguely, he could see the frightened faces of his classmates—no one can ever be friends with a son of Hades—and he could hear Lupin casting spells at the Boggart, but they just deflected off the smoky-colored mist.

A column of new mist appeared directly in front of Nico and solidified into...into Cupid. The tornado thinned, just enough so that Nico couldn't escape, but everyone else could see in. Nico looked into Cupid's eyes—vivid red, like the light of Tartarus. It was a just a boggart, but Nico no longer seemed to be aware of that.

"What do you want?" Nico yelled at the figure in front of him. Somehow, his memory of Cupid seemed to overlay what was really happening—once again, Nico had one foot in the past, and one foot in the present, something he was all too familiar with.

Cupid gave Nico a cold smile. "To reveal your secrets."

The Cupid in the mist opened his hands, palms up. The mist did a strange thing—sort of flickering and snapping into a new scene. Then Nico saw himself, and Jason Grace—the Boggart was recreating the dreaded memory. The secret.

"Nico, it's okay. I get it," Jason said.

Nico looked at Jason, his face a mask of pain and misery. "No, you don't. There's no way you can understand."

And so you run away again, Cupid chided. From your friends, from yourself.

"I have no friends!" Nico yelled, the truth hitting him like a sledgehammer. He'd always known it, but still, he'd hoped that maybe, just maybe...no. "I left Camp Half-Blood because I don't belong! I'll never belong!"

"Leave him alone Cupid," Jason tried to say. "This isn't..."

Nico looked down. He had to do it—it was the only way. "I—I wasn't in love with Annabeth."

"You were jealous of her," Jason said. "That's why you didn't want to be around her. Especially why you didn't want to be around...him. It makes total sense."

Had Nico's secret been that obvious all along? There was nothing left to say...except...

"I hated myself. I hated Percy Jackson. I had a crush on Percy. That's the truth. That's the big secret." Nico glared at Cupid. "Happy now?"

The mist around the scene darkened, and everyone except Cupid disappeared. Nico glared at him, as more memories surfaced from the mist, like lost dreams in the River Styx-quickly bobbing above the surface, then disappearing just as fast as the currant raced on and on and on. Nico, saying he'd never belong. Percy, yelling that Nico was a traitor. Jason, accusing him of hiding. And Bianca... Bianca's last words to Nico, as a ghost. You must listen to me. Holding a grudge is dangerous for a child of-here her voice blurred. It seemed that the Mist-Hecate's most-was helping Nico out here. It is our fatal flaw. You have to forgive. You have to promise me this.

Nico glared at Cupid—the boggart. In Ancient Greek, he said: "You aren't Cupid, or Jason, or Bianca. You aren't any of them. I am a son of Hades—no boggart is a match for me!" Nico forgot that he was technically supposed to use his wand. In a flash, he twisted his ring, whipped out his sword, and slashed in across the boggart's mist, which turned black and was sucked in the dark blade—a blade as dark as night, as dark as darkness itself.

The boggart was gone. Nico glared around at the class-everyone stood petrified, trying to process what in Hades they'd just witnessed. "Never again," Nico hissed, echoing his promise to himself. Then, he ran from the room, running, running, running—where, he didn't know. Just away—away from that room, away from his classmates—he was leaving this school. Leaving, and never coming back, Ministry or no Ministry. Never again.


Harry's PoV

Everyone stood still for a moment. Then Professor Lupin broke out of his shock. Suddenly business-like, he said: "Right, then. Everyone except you three—" he gestured at Harry, Ron, and Hermione— "to your next class. Or the libraries, or your dormitories. And...well, if you see Mr. di Angelo, you may want to...er...leave him alone."

The students filed out of the staffroom, pale and silent, like ghosts. Or the bones scattered around where Nico had stood—several pale skeletal forms had broken out of the floor, although Nico hadn't seemed to notice. The whole room had grown cold, as though a dementor had been there.

After the others had left, Lupin turned towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "You three: see if you can find Nico. And try to be civil to him," Lupin added sharply, as the trio turned to go. "I have heard you dislike him. But even so, he'll probably listen to you three more than anyone else. I'll go inform Albus of...whatever just happened. He may have some advice. In the meantime, you three find Nico, and make sure he comes back. And keep him away from dementors!"

The trio nodded, then headed out of the staffroom. Harry looked around. "Where do you think he went?" he asked. Harry still was trying to process what he'd just seen—he knew way more about Nico than he wanted to, that was certain, but at the same time, there was still so much Harry didn't know—he was just plain confused.

"Er..." Hermione said, pointing. "That may be a good start..."

Harry and Ron looked down...and gasped.


Author's Notes: Over 10,000 words, oh my! LOL. Get it? Dam? And yes, I made that Festus ship song up, although I may not be the only one who's done something like it. I mayyyyy have gotten too dramatic with the boggart scene—but I HATE it when a scene that should be important is underwhelming. The Blood of Olympus ending, for example. Leo actually states in Trials of Apollo that they "took down Gaea in like, forty seconds." So...yeah. I hope you enjoyed this! Please review!