I know, I know, you all hate me forever. I would hate me too. But alas, I am the worst updater in the world, so, sucks for me. But do not despair! I have rewarded your long wait with an XXXL chapter! Yay! Enjoy your little minds on this one my friends!

DISCLAIMER:

Person: Who are you?

Me: I'm the Super-Sized McShizzle man! And no, I'm not Rick Riordan or J.K. Rowling and therefore own nothing of importance in this story.

5. Wand-Waving and Otherwise

NICO

I don't like this.

I don't like this I don't like this I don't like this.

That was pretty much all that was going through my mind as I dragged myself up the stairs to that Ron kid's room. As I recounted our car trip, I sighed. We had been anything but subtle. And then Thalia had started a conversation in Ancient Greek about our identities and stuff and the girl Brit had heard part of it. Way to go, Thals.

I was snapped back to reality as I tripped over the threshold of Ron's room, falling into Percy. He then fell into Harry, who fell into Ron, and we all ended up groaning on the floor. After a second though, it turned into laughter. This continued for a while, until Harry took a few deep breaths and spoke.

"We should get your stuff put together," he suggested, gesturing to our bedrolls and backpacks.

Percy nodded. "Right," he said, getting up, only to fall back down again, wheezing with laughter. Meanwhile, Ron, Harry and I were watching him as if he'd gone nuts.

"Did we miss something?" I asked, looking around for something funny.

"No," Percy gasped, wiping a laughter-induced tear from his eye. "Just thought of something funny."

I facepalmed. Really Percy? As he got up, I heard him mutter, "Dam french fries," and shake his head, smiling. After a moment, however, his expression turned kind of sad. I was about to ask him about it when I heard Ron call my name.

I turned. "Yeah?"

Ron held up a long black object with a handle at the end. "This yours?" He asked inquisitively, running his hand over it. Harry was staring at it as well.

It took me a moment to realize what it was. Styx! I cursed mentally, then grabbed my scabbard. "Yeah," I muttered. "Thanks." I had to put that somewhere safer.

I was beginning to turn around to ask Percy if he had somewhere I could keep my sword when Ron yelled, "DUCK!" I was too slow. I instantly got nailed in the face by a pillow, courtesy of Percy. Said demigod was laughing his head off once again, probably at my stunned expression.

"PILLOW FIGHT!" he announced, and launched a new volley at me, but I was quicker this time. I grabbed one of them out of the air, but the other continued on its path only to hit Harry instead. I hurled my pillow back at Percy, which hit him square in the face. All he did was smirk and throw two more. Where was he getting all these pillows?

I ducked and the projectiles both nailed Harry and Ron, who were looking bewildered. Harry, however, seemed to be warming up to the whole 'pillow fight' idea (A/N: I'm just going on the fact that Harry has never been in a pillow fight before because he grew up with the Dursleys). Harry picked up one of Percy's pillows and threw them back at their launcher. One of them hit Percy in the gut with a satisfying umph sound, while the other went slightly off-target and hit me in the head. I responded with giving Harry a mouthful of linen.

I turned as just in time to see a pillow collide with Percy's face. I looked around, and saw that the launcher had been Ron. I gave him a thumbs-up, and he grinned back.

This is where the real fun begins.

oOo

An hour later, we were all breathless and sprawled out in different positions on the floor. Pillow fights get intense.

Harry was the first to speak. "That. Was. AWESOME!" He yelled at the ceiling.

Percy, who was hanging upside down from Ron's bed at the moment, nodded. "Best pillow fight ever," he agreed.

I just laughed. We were such little kids sometimes.

We all raised our heads, or in Percy's case, fell of the bed when a knock came at the door. "Come in," Ron said lazily. The door opened, and a young, 11-year old-looking girl stepped in. She had red hair and freckles just like all the other Weasleys, so I guessed this must be the Ginny girl that Mrs. Weasley said Thalia would be rooming with.

"Dinner," she told Ron. She looked up and seemed to acknowledge the fact that there were other people in the room. She regarded Percy and me nervously. "Uh, hi," she squeaked, then turned around and practically ran down the stairs.

I exchanged looks with Percy. "I take it that's Ginny," Percy said after a moment.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "She gets kind of…awkward around people, you might say." Harry chuckled when Ron said the word 'awkward'.

We all got situated and headed down to dinner, where everyone was already seated, including Thalia. There were two empty seats next to her, and Percy and I sat down and stared at our food. We all exchanged looks. Sacrifices, I thought. How the Hades were we supposed to sacrifice? Thalia just shot us a look that said, deal with it.

I sighed. "Sorry, dad," I muttered, then proceeded to stuff my face along with everyone else.

Halfway through the meal, Miss I-like-to-get-in-people's-business spoke up. "What's your school like?" she asked, and I tried to hide my irritation. Why the Styx do you care? I thought at her. Sadly, she couldn't hear it.

Percy answered. "Oh, you know, school," he said lamely. Come on, Percy. That guy has zero social skills.

Hermit crab (sorry, Hermione) raised her eyebrows. "Care to elaborate?" she said obnoxiously.

Percy thought for a moment. "Nope," he answered, and shoveled in another slice of pizza (A/N: Let's say that Mrs. Weasley made them pizza to get into the American spirit, mkay?). I had to stifle a laugh at the look on Hermione's face when Percy said that. It was like he had said, There is a bomb under the table about to blow us all into billions of tiny pieces instead of just nope.

There was an unsteady silence all throughout the rest of the meal, broken by awkward comments from Percy, such as: "Is this pizza more Pizza Hut, or Dominoe's?" and "I think your clock is broken."

When we were all finished, Mrs. Weasley ushered us up the stairs to our rooms. Percy and I spread out our bedrolls and stuff and got cozy in our sleeping bags. Harry was on a cot at he foot of Ron's bed, and Ron was sleeping in his bed (obviously).

I stared up at a column of moonlight streaming in through the curtains. I sighed and put my hands behind my head, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Weirdest. Dreams. Ever.

All I could recall clearly was a dog, a wanted poster, some guy with no nose, creepy floating dead dudes in cloaks, and a guy that looked like he was a fugitive that had been in a ditch for several years. As I said, weird.

My eyes snapped open, only to be clenched shut again. I was not used to sudden sunlight when I woke up. Downside of spending time in the Underworld. I opened them more slowly this time, and they finally adjusted. I saw that Percy was already awake, and Ron and Harry were coming back to consciousness as well.

I stretched and yawned, making Percy jump. "Mornin'" he muttered, beginning to yawn as well. I heard two more yawns from Harry and Ron's direction, and tried to keep another one from coming. I failed.

Even as we were getting dressed, the four of us were yawning like we hadn't slept in days rather than just gotten up. The yawning died down once we went downstairs and started breakfast. It felt so weird to not sacrifice to the gods. I just said a silent prayer to my dad, and ate waffles to my heart's content.

"Alright, we should get going," Mrs. Weasley announced. Everyone else nodded like they knew exactly what she meant.

I looked around. "Uh, what do you mean by 'get going'?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Weasley said, nodding slightly. "I suppose you have never travelled by Floo Powder before."

Thalia knit her eyebrows. "Floo Powder?" she asked incredulously. I agree. What is with all these weird names?

Mrs. Weasley began to go into an elaborate explanation of how Floo Powder is used, most of which I tuned out. All I heard was: "Take a handful of powder, say your destination, and throw it to your feet." Easy enough.

Fred (or was it George?) went first, doing exactly what Mrs. Weasley had instructed. He erupted into green flames, then disappeared. That stuff looked disturbingly like Greek fire. Stepping into a fireplace, throwing powder at our feet, and getting engulfed in godly explosives to be whisked off to some Alley that was diagonal. Lovely. George (Fred, whatever) went next, followed by Mr. Weasley, then Hermione, then Harry, then Mrs. Weasley.

I looked at Percy and Thalia. "Ready?" Thalia asked, staring at the fireplace.

"No," I responded, and I meant it. Nevertheless, I entered the ash-filled prison, and took a handful of powder. "See you on the other side, guys," I said to my friends. "Diagon Alley!" I said forcefully, throwing the powder to my feet.

Everything immediately began swirling around really really fast and I felt slightly sick. I definitely like shadow-traveling better.

All I could do was just shut my eyes tight and wait for it to be over. Fortunately, it didn't take long. Before I knew it, I was coughing up ash, lying on the floor of a room crowded with people and fireplaces, all erupting in green flames. I blinked a couple times and saw a hand above me, offering help, and I accepted it.

Turns out, it was Harry. "Thanks," I said/coughed. The air was so thick with ash I could practically feel it. In the next five minutes we finally stepped out of that place, which I learned was the Floo Travel Room (FTR), and into the bright sunlight. Once again, sunlight=the bane of my existence.

We wondered around for a while, going in to various stores and getting things from books to caldrons to quills and parchment. Seriously? We have to write with quills? We'll be lucky if we could write at all! And all the fancy script everything was written in did not help in the least.

Near the end of our journey, we stopped in front of a narrow, shabby old shop. In peeling gold letters, the sign said, Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C. I coughed. B.C.? Ha, ha. Very funny little wizard people.

I looked around me, and noticed that it was now only Percy, Thalia, Harry, and me. Then I remembered that the other Weasleys and Hermione were spending some time talking with Hermione's parents, who were mortals, sorry, muggles. What is up with all these weird names?

I was startled out of my thoughts by an old man appearing on a ladder and staring down at the four of us. "What have we here?" he questioned. His voice sounded like one that would belong to a 50-year old chair if it could talk. It creaked and crackled just like old wood.

"E—exchange students," I answered, not shaky at all. Wow, couldn't even fool myself.

The old man (I'm guessing he's Ollivander) raised an eyebrow, but let it go. He rolled away on his fun little ladder, to return moments later with a long, narrow box in his hand, which he extended towards Thalia. "Ladies first," I muttered mockingly, and she responded by stepping on my foot when no one else was looking, Thalia has a real talent of never getting caught when she's doing something mean to someone else. It gets so annoying.

Nevertheless, Thalia accepted the box, and pulled out a long stick. Percy snorted at the sight of it. This was the almighty weapon of the Wizarding world? It's definitely going to take some getting used to.

"Hawthorne and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, rather firm," Ollivander recited.

I knit my eyebrows and turned to Harry, who seemed to know what I was going to ask. "It's what the wand is made of," he explained. "For example, my wand is eleven inches long, made of holly with a phoenix feather core. The core is where the wand gets its power. The rarest core here is unicorn hair. I think you can imagine why."

Percy and I nodded in understanding. I turned around just in time for a glass vase to explode into a million pieces, the water flowing out and onto the floor. I immediately turned to Percy, but he just pointed accusingly at Thalia.

"Oh, that's alright, we'll find one somewhere for you," he said, and rolled away on his ladder of magical possibilities.

Thalia had to try so many wands. So. Many. I was ready to explode along with every vase in the room by the time Ollivander came out with the 25th one.

He handled the box with care, as if it were dynamite, and set it down softly on the counter. "I wonder…" he muttered, and handed the wand to Thalia. "Twelve inches, wood from a Bonsai tree. Temperamental," he said quietly.

As soon as Thalia waved the wand, thunder rumbled, and there was a sudden flash of lightning. I looked outside, and saw that in a matter of a minute or so, the sky had become completely overcast with storm clouds. Lightning flashed again, but rain didn't fall.

Ollivander was basically shaking now. "This is your wand," he whispered.

Then, Harry walked forward. "Er, Mr. Ollivander, you didn't tell her the core," he stated, staring in confusion at the old man.

"That is because there is none, Mr. Potter," Ollivander told a bewildered Harry. "That's where the power—"

Ollivander cut him off. "The power, Harry, comes from the wielder alone." Harry looked like he was trying to swallow a mouse when Ollivander said this. I, on the other hand, was thinking of ways to explain this. Not soon enough. Ollivander looked at us, awe present in his expression. "Then that would mean you are—"

"Special!" Thalia cut in. "Yes, we're special. So, Percy should get his wand now, right? Yeah, get your wand Percy," she said, ushering Percy towards the counter. Meanwhile, Harry looked like that mouse was putting up a fight.

Ollivander looked at Percy with awe and confusion evident on his face, and turned to find him a wand. In a minute or two, the old man came back, holding a box that was a deep purple color. From it he withdrew a long, dark wand. "Ash, fourteen inches, unicorn hair. Supple," he announced, handing Percy the wand.

As soon as the stick touched his hand, however, almost every drawer within a ten-foot radius of Percy burst open and spit out its contents. Ollivander shook his head so hard as he took away the wand I was afraid it might fall off.

After a few more tries, Ollivander seemed to relent, and got Percy a coreless wand like Thalia's. Out of a sea green box he pulled a pale wand, with carvings on it I couldn't quite make out. "White Pine driftwood, eleven inches, light." When Percy waved it, there was a sudden gust of wind in the shop, and I caught the smell of the ocean on the breeze. Percy closed his eyes and breathed deeply. A smile spread across his face and he looked back at the wand maker.

Ollivander nodded approvingly and put the wand back in its box. He then handed it to Percy, who sat back down. Ollivander beckoned me forward. I obliged hesitantly, and by the time I was at the counter he was returning with a pitch black box in his grip. He pulled a dark wand out of it and looked at it for a moment. "Poplar, thirteen inches, stiff," he said quietly, and then handed me the wand.

The room seemed to darken for a moment. I mean, it had already gotten darker when the storm clouds gathered (thanks, Thals), but the shadows seemed to expand. I felt a little more comfortable like that. Something familiar. The temperature also seemed to rise briefly, and then drop back to what it was. Ollivander nodded and handed me the box.

Everyone was silent for a moment. "That's 30 Galleons total," Ollivander put out. I racked my brain to remember which ones the Galleons were. I took a wild guess and went for the silver ones, but Harry corrected me.

"The silver ones are Sickles," he told me, pointing to the silver coins in my hand. "The golden ones are Galleons." I nodded and took a handful of the kind he pointed out, and counted thirty out of them. They reminded me of smaller golden drachmas.

We paid for our wands and started outside. I tried to disregard it, but I could feel Harry's gaze upon the three of us.

Gods, this is hard already.