Chapter 14 - Castigat Ridendo Mores
Over the next three days, Leo could honestly say that he'd never felt more proud.
Hogwarts was under his full control, and it felt amazing.
Since Umbridge's decree, the students were in anarchy. The delicious irony of it all was that for the first time in ages, at least a good three quarters of the student population were completely united with a single goal, and the cause of it was the one who had intended to keep it divided in the first place. Part of it was due to rage at the fact that the woman was now interfering in their free time and leisure activities, but most of it was the desire to see her break.
And that was something Leo could certainly do.
He'd put to good use all his purchases from Zonko's. Teachers all around the school were wondering why students now handed in their homework written in glittery ink, pink for girls and blue for the boys. When asked, the students pulled confused and apologetic faces, explaining that it was Professor Umbridge who had asked them to do so. There appeared to be conflicting theories over the causes of the phenomenon, ranging from a 'mark of respect for Professor Umbridge', to 'made compulsory by Umbridge' and 'Peeves usurped the stationery room'. In any case, the mystery kept the identity of the prankster secret, and no-one was going to complain after they saw Umbridge stamp her foot and demand an explanation from her confused colleagues.
Nevertheless, within a few hours the Weasley twins sussed out who was behind it and cornered Leo on the way to Transfiguration to congratulate him. Upon remembering the twins' own adeptness at setting traps and pranks - not to mention their nearly unrivalled knowledge of the Hogwarts layout - Leo struck a deal with them.
While the son of Hephaestus was the mastermind behind the operations, Fred and George were the ones with the real flair for dramatics - and they knew how to make the most of Hogwarts' incredibly efficient rumour and gossip machines. For instance, the morning after the first day the Decree had taken effect, Umbridge entered the Great Hall and every single student stood up to attention, their backs straight, eyes up ahead and hands down by their sides. Perfectly orchestrated, they did not sit down until Umbridge hesitantly took her seat, looking around for something she had undoubtedly missed.
Even the Slytherins joined in, hastily getting up from their seats as they saw every other student in the room do so, fearful of having been left out of a new and highly important drill. Their worried expressions and panicky glances at each other - especially Malfoy, who was in no way used to having matters out of his control - were almost as sweet as Umbridge's bemusement.
"And the best part is," Annabeth had gloated in a whisper to Leo after everyone had resumed eating breakfast as though it were perfectly normal, "they can't just not do it, or it'll look disrespectful!"
All Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were instructed by their ringleaders to conduct this military-style salute every single time Umbridge entered or left a room. And what was more, to do it without a smile, giggle, or sign that they were anything other than entirely respectful.
"She knows we're mocking her," Leo had said, his eyes aflame with genius mischief again, "so we have to make it look proper legit."
The result was an Umbridge who gulped every time she came into a room, for even after the initial surprise had worn off and she had started barking at the students to supply an explanation, they had taken to yelling back.
"YES SIR, PROFESSOR UMBRIDGE, SIR!" or "NO SIR, PROFESSOR, SIR!", or even "DON'T KNOW SIR, MA'AM, SIR!"
It was cliché, and militarily incorrect - no one in the forces ever addressed their superiors like that, Thalia assured them, rolling her eyes - but extremely satisfying. After putting five consecutively answering students in detention for 'blatant disrespect' and 'unnecessary loudness', Umbridge got no closer to the answer and within a day and a half had resolved to sticking her chin out everywhere she walked, as though daring anyone to spot any intimidation on her toady features, and taking three steps back every time she asked a student a question.
Soon, the nature of said detentions became apparent, and after comforting a crying, bleeding second-year one afternoon, Annabeth put her proverbial foot down. Harry Potter's quiet admission that blood quills had indeed been Umbridge's preferred method of punishment during his own detentions with her caused the daughter of Athena's usually stern grey eyes to come alight with something much more stimulating than indignation: it was the fury of a girl whose intellect far outstripped Umbridge's ego, and would see her go to hell twice as far as the usual route required. She immediately contacted Hermione Granger and a couple of people from her own house, Terry Boot and Marius Fell, to put their heads together and compile a legal case against Umbridge. Leo was right: the Ministry had chosen this woman for a reason, and those four brilliant minds were going to find out why.
Meanwhile, Leo had been organising pranks of a more technical nature, the kind he even kept secret from the twins. This was because he chose to specifically use what little godly tech he still had left in his tool-belt to alter and improve various items around the castle. It was tricky, because his understanding and practice of magic was still a little shaky, but thankfully his tech did most of the supernatural work for him. So far, his inventions included a tricky little programme that expanded and set itself against Umbridge's blackboard, adapting its appearance and texture to match it exactly, and transformed her words into complete gibberish every time she wrote on its surface. After having proclaimed the Minister for Magic a "purple bunch of painted troglodytes" and Wilbert Slinkhard's book a "lily-livered meatball of raining crackers", Umbridge gave up and instead had them take notes by diction.
He had also been working on perfecting the Valdezingitis, though the poor thing was having a tough time keeping up with demand. Umbridge was never seen nowadays without a thick layer of makeup on her face to conceal the pustules, but she'd apparently found an effective coughing relief, and the itchiness that was supposed to drive her crazy had instead made her a master of self-control. Leo was disappointed at first, but then decided that it was an opportunity for new and brighter ideas. Indeed, now he was busy programming it to cause other unfortunate bodily functions. He couldn't wait to try it out. Rumour had it there was another decree on the way, to stop students from sneezing or coughing in public. Leo rather thought he could enact the zygote version of his new gadget at Umbridge's introduction of it at dinner.
He pushed himself back from his desk, brushing his unruly hair out of his eyes and blowing out his cheeks as he exhaled a great puff of air. Destroying Umbridge was fun, but surprisingly demanding in time and effort. He needed a break.
He swung around on his chair, looking up at the great vaulted ceiling of the Room of Requirement.
This room was amazing. It was literally the most wonderfully versatile place Leo had ever seen, and that included his father's workshop, Archimedes' lab, and Hogwarts herself. The Room of Requirement was like an extremely concentrated form of Hogwarts and all her weird magical sentience in a single place, but where things got interesting was that a) said 'place' was only singular to make it easier for the brain to understand, because b) there didn't seem to be many limits on the room's abilities, and c) the very thought of that made Leo's skin tingle like he was trying out one of his mother's old bath bombs (which he secretly loved even when he was tiny).
The potential of this room was absolutely incredible, maybe even infinite. Leo's mind crawled with ideas even as he stared around him. How far did the spatial limits of this room go? Could it imitate the exterior? If magic controlled what went on inside it, did time always work the same way within the confines of these walls, or was that programmable too?
He'd been spending a lot of time in this room since he'd first seen it at their first DA meeting. Fred and George had explained the concept behind it - that it provided you with anything you needed - and Leo's mind had been in a state of absolute revolution since.
So, when you say 'need', is that the fairytale definition of need, like, only a pure, strong hero needs to pull a sword out of a stone kind of need, or is it your everyday sort of need, like the toilet or a spare pen?
Also how d'you tell the room what you need, does it read your mind? Especially as you're not actually inside the room when you're asking for it - you're on the doorstep, really. Does that mean you can ask for stuff when you're halfway down the corridor, too?
What about on the other side of the school? If you were in your common room and asked the room to be the size of the lake, you'd be effectively be... uh, sort of on top of the room, like in another dimension, 'cause a room that size would flatten the entirety of Hogwarts.
And...yeah, that's cool, but how does it actually work? Mind-reading?
There seemed to be a lot of mind-reading around in the magical world. Nico's story had freaked Leo out a little, he had to admit. That Potions professor was a nasty piece of work, and whoever had put him in charge of children had been completely desperate, or not too bright, or then again maybe a complete genius because who cared about the little things in life when you were busy planning the way the world went? Ten points to Dumbledore, that's who.
Maybe there was a way of countering Snape and Dumbledore's repeated attempts to intrude upon their pupils' mental privacy. A magical way was clearly out of the question; Annabeth had made a few vaguely dark references to Occlumency, but it turned out it was a whole discipline and took years to learn and perfect. They didn't have the years, nor the expertise needed to guide them through it. No, what they needed was an effective and immediate counter-mindreader, something that worked all the time and preferably needed no trigger to do so.
Nico had mentioned that Snape physically could not read Nico's mind. Leo wondered if that was due to the natural way Nico's brain was formed, or if the phenomenon was due to something else. If the guy had a natural ability to deflect such advances and Leo could pinpoint what it was, maybe there could be a way of replicating it.
Muggle medicine was his main point of reference at this point, and even Leo had to admit that he was on shaky ground with that considering how well anything muggle worked around magic. But some things were universal, so for example if Nico's immunity was chemical - say, a certain over-produced hormone in his brain - then an implant, or a vaccine, as it were, physically injected into people's bodies...
Leo shook his head. He was definitely no expert. Better leave that to people who actually knew how good their chances were. Besides, there was nothing at the moment that suggested Nico's closed-mindedness to Snape was anything like natural or biological. Maybe the guy was just really good at controlling and suppressing what he thought.
Still, all those theories involving experts and professionals and the need for guidance reminded Leo of another, more neglected side of Chiron's plans: allies. They'd made contact with a few people here, but those had been mostly accidental, and a bunch of dead people, watery fangirls, and a crazy Scottish wildman would only help them so far in the coming war against Voldemort.
Leo looked around. Could this room help them contact people - their demigod/mythological sort of people - and call for their help? It was worth a try. Maybe he could even experiment in the whole magic/tech compatibility issue again. What would he give for an hour alone with the internet! Annabeth had received her laptop from Chiron, he knew, and it was much more powerful than any muggle machine she could have brought with her. He could ask to borrow it and start running and testing theories as soon as possible.
Right now, Leo was sitting in what for all intents and purposes appeared to be Bunker Nine, the only differences being the exasperating absence of electrical current, and that of all his ongoing projects (which he knew, if a little sadly, were still at home in camp) and his siblings. He missed Nyssa and her tomboyish walk, and Beckendorf's amazing bed, and even the smells of old takeaway cartons which people had forgotten to throw away because they were so caught up in their work.
Leo sighed.
Now, where was he again? Oh, yeah - the Valdezingitis.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
It is a well-known fact that the words Hell hath no fury like that of a woman scorned are a well-known fact, and no-one knew that fact better than Argus, the hundred-eyed guard of Camp Half-Blood.
Not because he was a cynic, or much of a romantic, or even really a misogynist, but because if he had to pick the worthier opponent between two oncoming forces, chances were he'd pick the female one first to deal with it quickly while he still had his strength and chances, and worry about the other (potentially male) one later on.
Females were just generally more vicious, especially when they were angry. Maybe it came from their motherly instinct to protect their young, or maybe because they didn't have the inconvenience of testicles (which despite popular culture's insistence were actually very weak and sensitive) and were free to spit and snarl and shriek without running the risk of well-aimed kicks or accusations of overreacting (for those who would accuse her of doing so were also the ones doing the running away and hiding from her).
Argus scratched his chin, carefully avoiding poking himself in the eye, and tried to think of a female he wouldn't be wary of confronting.
His mistress and creator, Hera, wouldn't of course be anywhere near the list - that fine lady could show anyone the price of messing with respectable goddesses, and prettily remind you of your manners as she did so.
Then there was Annabeth Chase, whom Argus had known since she was small and cute, when she could barely use her knife without giving everyone in the vicinity a paper-cut. But of course now she was all grown up and repeatedly saving the world, so she wouldn't be featuring on the list any time soon.
Argus continued to scratch his chin, frowning. The Hecate girls, Demeter's daughters, Ares' girls (who only vaguely looked female, granted, but Argus was being fair about his assessment), those Roman girl soldiers over the summer... They could all kick ass fairly well, and even that six-year-old Aphrodite kid with bunches made Argus nervous when she was holding a mascara brush and standing too close to him.
Holy Hera, this list was even shorter than he'd thought!
Anyway, why had he been thinking all this?
Oh yeah, because the Roman chief chick - Queenie, or something - had just arrived and was vaulting off her pegasus, with obsidian daggers in her eyes and a terseness in her movements that rather made her look like she was in 'a bit of a temper'.
She stopped to pat her mount in thanks, gave it a piece of sugar, and marched up the path to the big house as it took off again and made for the stables. It was a very windy day, and the gale made the Roman girl's purple cloak billow and whip around her. On anyone else here it would have looked like they'd just decided to wear a bedsheet around their neck (and regretting it as soon as they stepped outside), but she was Roman and clearly on a mission, so it just gave her the look of an avenging military goddess (and Argus would know).
She continued to march towards Chiron's residence, finally breaking into a brisk jog when it appeared to be taking far too long for her fragile patience. She arrived, apparently not even out of breath, and hammered on the door of the house, yelling something Argus couldn't hear because of the wind.
He shook his head, tears streaming past his face as the wind made his many eyes water up.
Chiron was gonna have hell to pay, and the poor guy likely didn't even know it yet.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Reyna hammered the door with her fist, yelling at the top of her voice, propriety be damned.
She was seething, and for once she didn't care what others saw. She could feel the anger flare up, more than ever now that she was safely dismounted from her pegasus (because to have an extremely angry passenger was to a flying horse a bit like a teenager having his entire family in the car he was driving for the first time - it was that level of pressure).
How dare Chiron do this to her? How dare he spend most of the summer making plans with her for their Graeco-Roman alliance, and then pull this sneaky, underhanded stunt on her?
But the worst bit wasn't that he hadn't told her about his plans, oh no, it was that he had involved some of her closest friends - from the legion itself - and proceeded to use them like he would his own pupils, never even considering the impact it could have on Camp Jupiter.
Reyna felt betrayed. There was no other word for it.
Finally, the door was opened by a very annoyed-looking Chiron and Reyna pushed her way in before the surprise could even register on his bearded face, not even bothering to avoid stepping on his hoofs. Bastard.
"Reyna?" Chiron said, completely taken aback. "I had no idea you were coming-"
"I know," Reyna said shortly, not trusting herself to speak too much right now, lest she start yelling. "That was the idea."
"Ah." Chiron said delicately, closing the door again and shutting off the cold wind.
Reyna almost shivered. Well, she was glad out be out of that gale, at least.
Without preamble, which wasn't entirely her style, she blurted out "What the hell d'you think you're playing at?"
Chiron glanced over his shoulder. He was clip-clopping into the living room, where a fire was crackling attractively in the fireplace.
"Apparently not a game you approve of," he said simply, and Reyna appreciated that he was at least doing her the respect of keeping off the pretence.
"Then at least tell me the rules," she retorted.
The old centaur sighed as he lowered himself into his special chair. He seemed to be in pain, and his joints audibly cracked, even as they were merrily imitated by the wood in the fireplace.
"Need I remind you that we are allies, Chiron?" Reyna went on when the centaur did not answer immediately. "We swore an oath of loyalty and friendship when Gaea was finally defeated. To me, that implies not sneaking around the other, keeping vital information from them and stealing their best assets!" she was almost shouting now, and Chiron only looked at her, his bushy face grave and solemn and wise in a way she knew she could never be, and vaguely resented that.
After another few seconds, Chiron clasped his hands together and spoke in his usual quiet, reasonable tones.
"I assure you I am not stealing anything from you or your legion, Reyna." he said. "It is not my place."
Reyna raised an eyebrow.
"No? You're telling me Frank Zhang - my fellow praetor - and Hazel Levesque are not out completing some mission you gave them? Without my knowledge or consent, might I add."
She fixed him with her stare, knowing that in the past it had often intimidated her opponents just as much as her words. This was a slightly shaky part in her plan of attack, for she knew nothing of where Frank and Hazel were. She suspected they were with Jason, who was always with Piper and his other new Greek friends, though she had no solid proof of anything of the sort. But Jason hadn't been returning her calls. And this morning she'd been to see someone who confirmed once and for all that something was up.
The prickle of betrayal was still there. Of all the emotions churning inside her, the betrayal was the worst, because Chiron hadn't been the only one causing it. She thought she'd fixed things with Jason. She thought she'd had in Frank Zhang a good and loyal partner. Reyna nearly snorted. She'd thought that much of everyone in the team of the Seven!
Chiron's expression sobered even more at her words.
"So you know about the mission." he surmised, not entirely correctly.
"I suspected." Reyna grudged. "And I suppose you've just confirmed it."
Chiron stared at her steadily, apparently aware that that was not the extent of it. She scowled at him.
"And I went to see Sally Jackson," she admitted, not liking that to him she probably sounded like a child justifying its actions, "who took me half an hour to convince that I wasn't an enemy. She told me her son had indeed disappeared, for a while now. That's the third person to have just taken off at the same time." she pointed out, her tone deliberately accusing.
They just stared at each other for a moment, girl versus centaur. Leader versus leader. One so old that the other still seemed a babe in comparison, the other still so angry that face to her the other only shrank.
"Do you have any idea what the absence of my soldiers is costing me?" she snapped.
Chiron had the grace to look a little ashamed, but still he met her tone with reasonable calm. He sat in his wheelchair the way a king's advisor sat next to his liege's throne: noble, courteously open, but as unyielding as the sceptre he held.
"Two soldiers will not make much of a difference to your ranks, surely; even if one is a praetor. You've managed alone before - and admirably, too."
She looked at him, unable to believe he was judging her ability to rule under pressure when he was the cause behind it.
"Two soldiers. You think that is what this is about? Chiron, those were my soldiers - my friends! They answer to me, their fellow Roman and military superior. Don't you dare tell me if I can or can't manage without them, don't - you - dare!" she hissed.
The old centaur leaned back in his chair a little, watching her as she seethed, finally a glint of wariness in his eye.
"How many are with them?" she asked, before she quite knew it.
"There are nine of them." Chiron answered quietly. "The original Seven, and Nico di Angelo accompanied them, along with Thalia Grace."
Reyna snorted. Of course they had. She tried to ignore the sting of jealousy and disappointment that kept wriggling away in her chest. So Jason and his friends were on a secret mission after all, once more leaving Reyna in the cold, blind darkness of ignorance.
For once, she thought bitterly before she could stop herself, couldn't I have gone too?
She was a praetor of the Twelfth Fulminata, a Roman and a leader in her own right. Why couldn't the gods place in her the same amount of trust they placed in that goofball Percy Jackson and his motley crew of friendly companions?
But no, she was a praetor - the praetor, now, again - and she had the legion to hold and to run. She couldn't afford to leave her soldiers, the camp, the senate or the forum. They needed her - or rather, Camp Jupiter needed her physical presence there. Octavian had been one power-hungry maverick, and though he was gone political wolves were everywhere; there were several members of the senate who would like nothing better than proof of their praetor defecting (again, she thought bitterly) in times when she was needed more than ever. Camp Jupiter was still enduring ongoing reparations, and thus was still vulnerable - to onslaught, but also to internal strife.
Chiron appeared to have had a similar thought.
"Shouldn't you be at Camp Jupiter? Can they manage without you?"
She shot him a dirty look.
"Evidently, they will be forced to manage while I discover why the figurehead of our closest allies has decided not only to work behind our backs, but against us!"
Chiron started, looking truly alarmed for the first time.
"Against you?" he repeated, his eyes wide. "My dear child, no! Of course not. What causes you to think that?"
Reyna stopped pacing (she hadn't even noticed that she'd started doing it, though the live leopard that served as a rug was certainly snarling at her as she repeatedly stomped on his spots) and faced the centaur. She gave a high, humourless laugh.
"Why? Haven't I said already? Oh, but it doesn't matter what I think." she said, her tone light and biting. "It's what the senate will think when I return - or maybe they are debating even as we speak, since my presence won't have gone unnoticed for long. Our second praetor has disappeared without word for months - sound familiar? Another of our soldiers, who happens to be his girlfriend, has likewise gone AWOL, and the last place either of them were seen alive was here. Not to mention," she said venomously, "that repeated attempts of contact with them have been continuously redirected to this camp - Greek territory, who until two months ago, as I'm sure you'll remember, were still considered the least trustworthy people on earth."
She paused, seething once more, then straightened her back for she had been leaning forward towards Chiron, who looked aghast at this sudden turn of events. Ah, the bliss of ignorance, Reyna thought with no small amount of venom. Even the old and venerable weren't safe from its honeyed clutches.
"But no, surely they'll dismiss all that," she said, her tone sweet now. "Instead, they'll focus on how their remaining praetor - poor, stupid Reyna with her Graeco-Roman co-operation dreams - has now also abandoned the people in her charge while Camp Jupiter is still weak, all in an attempt to find out what the hell is going on. Those greedy and power-hungry old men of the senate would never try to get her off the pedestal and attempt, oh I don't know, to put an emperor in her place - oh no, never." her voice was so laden with sarcasm that she was surprised it wasn't dripping from her tongue.
"What?" breathed Chiron. "What are you talking-"
"I'm saying that Octavian wasn't the first, and he certainly won't be the last. He was just the right guy at the right time, with the right ideas and the right motives - not to mention the lineage." Her dark eyes found Chiron's once more. "The emperors of Rome were widely believed to have been part-god. Why do you think Octavian got so much support? He was only a legacy, true enough, but he was descended from Augustus Caesar himself, and displaying exactly the sort of talents Augustus did when Julius Caesar was murdered by his friends. The similarities were astonishing, the senate couldn't believe their eyes. It was almost as though Augustus, the first ever Roman emperor, had been-" her eyes glittered, though she didn't know it, "- reborn."
Chiron stared at her, agape.
"But, surely... I mean, Octavian is gone now."
Reyna snorted. "Oh yeah, he's gone. But he wasn't the only legacy, and half of Camp Jupiter can claim descent from some emperor or another." she pressed her fists on the wooden table near Chiron's chair, and breathed out heavily. "The original Roman republic was overturned because the popular assemblies meant less and less, to the point where Caesar managed to practically declare himself emperor, in practice if not in name. Worse even, there were several institutions that legitimised the choice of an individual as emperor: military glory, lineage, regional power, imperial connections..." she waved a hand expressively and started pacing again. "Imagine if the senate affirmed its authority, deposed of the office of praetorship, and actually elected an emperor. It's been done before - for purveyors of the original profession of law, the Romans could be flexible in legal procedures when it suited them." she said bitterly. She'd spent hours studying the history of ancient Rome last year in Jason's absence, looking for expert guidance among the dusty scrolls that told of the exploits of Cicero, Pliny the Younger and Emperor Trajanus.
"It would give him enormous prestige, and automatic legitimacy, not to mention widespread loyalty. The legion would have to swear allegiance to him, as in the days of old - as in the Roman way."
Chiron looked shocked. Clearly, he had not fully considered the impact of Frank Zhang's absence or the trouble he was leaving her in.
Reyna came to stand directly in front of him.
"I want you to tell me exactly what is going on, and not to leave anything out, or the deal is off." Her eyes were pools of obsidian rock - sharp and pitiless. "No alliance. No friendship. The senate is deeply divided at the moment - too many of them are still eager for war. But I go back to Camp Jupiter, I rally myself some united support by exposing the machinations of our treacherous ally, and I can easily declare war on our traditional enemies the Greeks - Frank Zhang or no Frank Zhang. Our defences may not be as strong as they were a year ago, but they'll hold against a rabble of treacherous Greeks."
"Reyna-" Chiron looked very alarmed now, his features still showing the shock of Reyna's ultimatum.
His noble features looking so desperate struck a chord in Reyna, and for a split-second her stony resolve faltered a little. Who was she to speak to him like she was his superior, or even his equal? She'd heard legends about this guy, who was older than Rome itself, and they were practically part of her (admittedly messed-up) childhood's bedtime stories. But then the centaur's face smoothed, like he was consciously reminding himself that she was an angry teenager - nothing more - and Reyna felt her determination harden once more. She scowled at him as he searched for the right words and tried again, holding her gaze like he could see nothing else.
"Don't do anything like that. Believe me when I say that would be the very worst thing to do!" he said gravely, the urgency in his voice clear. "Please, I... I cannot tell you, though I wish I could. The gods would not approve... - wait! Believe me, I'm not doing this to save my own skin!" he added in a rush, grabbing her wrist when her gaze hardened and she made a move to leave.
"Yes, I gave them all a mission," he said, quickly and in a lowered voice, like he was suddenly afraid of being overheard - Reyna had rarely seen anyone looking so urgent - "but it was the Oracle who issued it. A prophecy was made, and it explicitly cited those nine demigods as its subjects. Reyna, they chose to go of their own accord." his eyes were boring into hers, pleading for her to understand. "My role was to guide them as I could and warn them of any dangers I knew of. I swear on the Styx none of our - none of my actions were taken with the intention of harming or slighting you."
Reyna stared at him a moment more, then shook her wrist free and turned away, troubled. Chiron, elusive bastard though he'd been the past month or so, was telling the truth, she knew it. Even without her two loyal Aurum and Argentum she could see it in his eyes. But why was he still refusing to tell her about the mission? Did he not trust her? Why was everyone making it their business to keep her in the dark about everything?
That piqued her anger again, and she turned back to Chiron.
"Be that as it may, your intentions have backfired. I cannot stop the senate from drawing the wrong conclusions any more than you can, unless I understand exactly what is at stake." she paused and looked him squarely in the eye. "What, exactly, is worth risking civil war again?"
Chiron's eyes didn't leave her face as he stared at her, still oh-so-gravely.
"You don't understand, this is so much more than you could imagine..."
"Then enlighten me," Reyna commanded, the authority of Bellona ringing clear in her voice.
Chiron shook his head, with such sadness and pity in his eyes that she felt like hitting him, but a soft footfall sounded in the doorway behind her. Reyna whirled around to see a red-headed girl standing there, her green eyes wide and her hair looking like she enjoyed sticking her fingers in electrical sockets.
Chiron made a noise of surprise, and judging from his expression was about to tell the girl to leave, but Reyna held up a hand.
"Who are you?" she demanded of the girl. She looked a little familiar, and Reyna knew she had met her before, but couldn't quite place the where nor the when.
The read-head scratched her head with a paintbrush, then gave Reyna a tentative smile, a small light of recognition in her eyes also.
"Rachel Dare." (Ah, so she was the girl who had passed on Annabeth Chase's message from Tartarus. She remembered now.) "I was wondering what all the shouting was about, and if I could help tone it down a little. Loud vibrations and air disturbances are disruptive to the artistic mind." she explained, far more kindly than she had any cause to considering Reyna was glaring at her like she'd interrupted a senate meeting.
Before Reyna could respond, Rachel walked over to Chiron and sat down on the arm of his chair. Despite the cold windy weather, the girl wore only a flannel shirt and denim mini-shorts. Apart from a few streaks of blue and green paint, her feet and legs completely bare. Gathering and pinning her hair up with her long paintbrush, Rachel glanced at Reyna, then at Chiron, then at Reyna again.
"Well, sorry to have killed the mood." she said in a jaunty tone.
"Rachel... Reyna and I were just discussing the absence of Percy and the others," Chiron explained uneasily. "You needn't involve yourself in-"
"Let her stay," Reyna said suddenly. "I would hear her opinion. Since I gather she is also aware of the situation, yes?"
Every-freaking-body knew, she thought bitterly. Why not the strange girl with paint marks on her legs and cold-resistant soles?
Rachel Dare smirked.
"Well yes, but only because I'm the one who caused it."
Reyna's sharp glance of surprise at this made the girl laugh out loud, causing several red curls to tumble out of her hasty bun.
"I'm the Oracle of Delphi, remember?" she explained, then caught herself. "Well, no - I'm more of an embodiment of it. I issue the prophecies from time to time, when my teachers and schoolmates aren't looking."
Reyna stared.
"You're mortal." she surmised.
The girl nodded.
"Yep. Very much so. The Mist never had any effect on me, though. That's how I met Percy: he was trying to run away from some monsters near a dam and I got caught in the crossfire."
Reyna felt like she'd been sidestepped in some way.
"So... what is your view on this mission?" she asked, trying to stay on ground she was familiar with.
Rachel cocked her head, considering her with open curiosity.
"Honestly? I've no idea. I personally don't remember what I said - that's the way it always is when I issue a prophecy - but Chiron tells me it was kinda weird, especially the way it was formed - what?" she said, in response to Chiron shooting her a warning glance. "The poor girl's been in the dark long enough. This whole secrecy thing is getting old."
"It is in place for several excellent reasons," Chiron reminded her stiffly.
"Meaning?" Reyna prompted.
Rachel looked down at Chiron with a deadpan stare, and crossed her arms.
"If you don't tell her, I will." she warned.
The old centaur groaned and sank his face into his hands. "This is exactly what I was afraid of when I told the others," he moaned. "Don't women know the meaning of the word 'secret'?"
"Yep," Rachel said, popping the 'p', "A fact or piece of information typically known to few people, usually told by each holder to one other person. You told it to the others, now I'm telling Reyna. It's costing her a lot more than anyone else at the moment."
Reyna shot her a sharp glance, and Rachel winked.
"I have sharp hearing, and you weren't exactly being quiet about it."
There was silence for a long while that seemed like ages to Reyna. Chiron didn't raise his head from his hands, but after another long moment, slowly, he nodded once.
"But let me explain," he requested, and Rachel acquiesced.
He turned to face Reyna, who was standing in the middle of the room, her hand on the pommel of her sword due to nervous habit, almost trembling in anticipation of this knowledge so secret that Chiron had been risking war to keep from them all. Would it be another primal deity trying to rise from the depths of hell? Was it a conspiracy among the evildoers of mythology? Were the gods in trouble again?
Chiron hesitated a few seconds more before speaking, but speak he did, in a tone so flat and expressionless that Reyna almost accused him of mocking her.
When he finished telling her, Reyna blinked.
...
Ten minutes later, she was collapsed in one of Chiron's regular leather armchairs, her chin on a clenched fist, staring dazedly into the fire.
The centaur and the girl perched on his wheelchair were looking at her carefully, gauging her reaction but also avoiding staring at her face too much, like they were afraid she was going to explode again.
But all righteous fire had extinguished itself in Reyna. She continued to stare at the merry little flames, wishing she had half their energy and sprightliness. She felt so drained in the current moment in time that not even her tattered status at home felt important.
"So there's a magical world." she said, dully.
Chiron nodded.
"Hidden from mor-... Muggles."
Another nod.
"And Jason and Frank are trying to defeat the evil wizard who wants to take over this world."
And another.
"By attending a magical school."
Here, Chiron hesitated, but Rachel nodded confidently.
"That's the long and short of it." she answered. "Pretty cool, huh?"
Reyna didn't even answer. She just stared at the fire.
Chiron leaned forward a little, rubbing his hands and licking his lips anxiously.
"Reyna, I know this is all a shock, but you must realise this mission is of the utmost importance - not to mention secrecy. The sheer risks involved, and the danger if they are discovered... Surely now you can see why no-one else can-"
Reyna's dark eyes swivelled to look at him again, and Chiron's voice died in his throat when he saw the scorn in them.
"Utmost importance?" she said. She was so tired of all of this that her voice barely went above a whisper. "You're telling me that some unknown society somewhere in this world is in danger of being overrun by one of its members, and suddenly that's our highest priority?"
She turned her gaze back to the fire.
"Our best soldiers, one of our leaders, our most experienced friends - gone to save an imaginary world."
"It's not imaginary-"
"It is to everyone else," Reyna cut across Rachel. "They don't know about it, they've never known about it. So even if this secret comes out," she spat the word, "that world will never cease to be imaginary. No-one will believe this."
Against all odds, Chiron looked relieved.
"So you won't tell the senate, or New Rome?"
Reyna shrugged.
"Well if I do, I'll immediately get demoted and prodded into our best psychiatrist's office."
She looked back up at the centaur, who was not hiding the relief on his face. Rachel was staring at Reyna with an unreadable expression, almost as though she were re-evaluating her, or possibly picturing her as a subject for a new painting.
"Do the rest of Camp Half-Blood know anything about this?"
Chiron shook his head, and Rachel replied.
"All they know is that Percy and a few others went on a quest, and that they didn't have time to say goodbye. Not all of them are happy about the prophecy not being as public as usual, but," she shrugged, "there isn't much they can do about it now."
"Have you had contact from them at all?"
Chiron nodded.
"They managed to IM me on their first day there, and we've communicated by wizard mail ever since. Apparently the magical interference there does not prevent our usual methods, but it's safer for them to stick to conventional means of communication."
"And they are all safe?"
"As far as we know, yes. Though it has been three days since Annabeth's last letter."
"I want to see it."
There was a beat, then Chiron opened up one the hidden compartments of his wheelchair, fished out a piece of curiously yellowed paper and handed it to Reyna without a word. She took it - her hand surprisingly steady given her current state of half stupor, half wary disbelief - and began to read the words. She recognised Annabeth's neat, square writing (a common feature in demigod handwriting, who usually found curly or round script as indecipherable as cloud patterns) and registered something about detentions and a ministry and someone called Dumbledore, but after a few seconds the words blurred and the lines merged into one another and Reyna stopped reading.
So it was true. She wasn't dreaming.
That didn't stop her mind from being curiously blank.
Then, What in Jove's name am I going to tell the senate?
"You know," Rachel piped up, "most people finding out that wizards and magic really do exist would be at least a little bit excited."
Reyna rubbed her face with her palm.
Oh, now wasn't she just?
0o0o0o0o0o0
Professor Severus Snape was troubled.
This was mostly because he also happened to be confused, and that did not happen often.
In fact the last time he remembered feeling confused was on that dark and lifeless night, the utter shock and confusion he'd felt following Albus' grave words. How could she be dead, he'd thought, when he had promised he would spare her? How could she be dead when she had the greatest so-called protection available? How, when the two greatest wizards alive had given him their word that she would live?
And then the truth had set in, and Albus had explained Lily's sacrifice for her son, and Snape's confusion evaporated to join Lily in the heavens, only to be replaced by the agony of grief and despair.
Thankfully, the source of Severus Snape's troubles today was entirely different.
The boy, di Angelo, was the reason Snape was sitting at his desk during class in the middle of the day, staring at the walls of the classroom instead of grading the papers in front of him.
Two conversations kept revolving in his mind. The one he'd recently had with his fellow heads of house, and the one he'd conducted the other day with the boy in the dungeons.
There was no way, Snape kept telling himself - trying to ignore the niggling voice of doubt - that a boy that young could have developed such powers of Occlumency without tutoring.
Snape had exaggerated slightly during the exchange: although di Angelo's mental defences were not complete, they were impressively strong and had been up surprisingly quickly, considering the boy had registered Snape's attempt to see his thoughts with complete surprise.
So he was not only a natural, he was also aware of it.
That in itself was rare: a natural occlumens usually had no idea that his mind was cloaked from all but himself.
But Snape's professionalism and own expertise were plucking away at his conclusions, unpicking the seams, examining the fineprint and casting them away one by one, again and again.
Because, Severus reminded himself sternly once more, natural occlumens were absolute in the concealment of their minds. They either cloaked them completely without even trying, or they were simply not naturals, but rather had undergone strict and rigorous training and then lied about it.
And Nico di Angelo had not been lying, he was sure of it. Working in this bloody school with an eccentric but genius crackpot for headmaster had not given him much in life, but it had given him experience as a teacher, and what kind of teacher couldn't immediately spot a student who was lying?
Somewhere in the classroom a cauldron exploded, splattering bright red potion against the walls and making several students shout out. Without even glancing up for a full look, Snape raised his arm and siphoned it all off with a flick of his wand. He was still so preoccupied with his thoughts that he ignored the student behind it - a mousy fourth-year who had been stupid enough to add the powdered limbs of a bowtruckle before making sure the river salts had completely dissolved.
If the boy had not undergone training, that meant the impressive abilities of mental concealment and control he possessed had been acquired through self-tutelage. And Snape knew for a fact that books were close to useless on disciplines like Occlumency, which meant the subject had to have suffered a great deal to get to that level. The subject had to feel a penetration of the mind, the disgust as someone else grew privy to their innermost thoughts, the rage that someone dared to intrude upon their most private sanctuary. They had to experience the revulsion, feel to the desire to revolt against this violation by gathering all their thoughts and cloaking them with dark nothingness.
There was no way a snotty teenager of today's over-protected first world could have endured that much, and yet he had seen Nico di Angelo do just that, at a mere touch to his mind from him.
Yes, Severus Snape was troubled.
Because he knew of only one other person who had picked up Occlumency on their own, to protect themselves from life and the players in it.
And Severus Snape had undergone hell up to his adult life before turning to the closed safety of Occlumency.
And Nico di Angelo was fifteen.
EDIT: (clean up of a very long Author's Note, 31/05/2016)
Thanks to Risa Silvara, Anonymous and Finwitch1 for valid and interesting points I shall reflect on at length. (And also urs-v, who made me laugh!)
A summary of points:
- Yes, I am aware Nico di Angelo came out as gay in the Blood of Olympus, and I'm keeping him that way. He rolled his eyes at the mention of dormitory gender separation because he knew exactly how Dumbledore was going to interpret the others' reaction to that, and he was flustered by the girl in the painting in the same way that a straight person would be flustered if a gay person paid them too much attention. That's all.
- Someone meekly asked if they could have the chapter titles in English. I personally quite like them in Latin, so I went back and included a translation for each one at the end of each chapter. They're all famous phrases, anyway. This chapter's title, Castigat Ridendo Mores, approximately means (because Latin's a tricky bastard) 'customs are corrected by laughing at them'.
- Thank you so much for all the feedback. The only thing I'd ask would be to include a mail address if you're a guest reviewer asking questions, otherwise I can't get back to you. Also, when typing said address, make sure to write it thus: something DOT gibberish AT geemail DOT com, or this site will automatically delete it.
- Updates. Sorry, I suck at being regular with those. I write chapters as I go along, not being one of those incredibly organised authors who write the whole thing and then give it to you piecemeal.
- The issue of which-demigod-belongs-in-which-house has been brought up again. Yes, I know Percy is loyal enough to go into Hufflepuff. I also know Piper isn't manipulative or particularly ambitious enough to be a true Slytherin. But like in every PJ-goes-to-Hogwarts fic, it's all a matter of interpretation, and unlike eleven year-olds, our heroes are nearly adults with fully-fledged personalities, values and life experience. Sorting them is nowhere near as simple as sorting prepubescent children, half of whom have lived very secluded lives. I suspect that if the Sorting Hat did exist, it would agree with my dilemma. So, with all possible gratitude and respect, I would ask you not to further question my choices on this particular matter. I've given it a great deal of thought, and each placement will have repercussions in the future plot.
Anyway, I hope to see you all soon for the next chapter! (not that it's even written yet)