demigods & deathly hallows

by antiolympus

Summary:

Thanatos comes to Nico with an urgent request; find the Deathly Hallows before anyone has a chance to collect all three and become a Master of Death. Unfortunately for Nico, the only lead Thanatos has for him is that the Cloak has been sensed in the wizarding school of Hogwarts.

Nico only vaguely knows who this Harry Potter kid is, and he isn't sure why the dude and his friends think he wants to eat Thanatos.

Notes:

I'm writing this for funsies because I have a hard time finding any Nico Goes To Hogwarts fics that fit what i want to read... don't expect frequent updates because i have adhd and so many fuckin things i wanna write i bounce from concept to concept so often. i write when i can ✧

Chapter 1: Death Eats a Chicken Nugget

Nico di Angelo, for once, is enjoying a quiet, monster-free meal. He has claimed a corner booth in a midwestern McDonald's, his table home to a McNugget meal with a side of ambrosia. The ambrosia, which he eats first to take care of some scrapes from a conflict earlier in the morning, tastes like nothing—like a distinct lack of flavor. It's a bit strange, but Nico's ambrosia has been flavorless since Tartarus, so he's gotten used to it. 

This particular McDonald's is quiet and empty of all but for Nico, the employees, and a couple sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant, feeding each other fries. Nico largely ignores the last two, focused on his nuggets. He isn't really one for public displays of affection, especially after breaking up with Will.

The McDonald's door opens as he's brooding, letting in a gust of cold wind. An employee welcoming the new arrival in a dead voice has Nico glancing to see who's decided to join the quietness of this McDonald's—only to nearly choke on a bite of his chicken nugget.

Stepping into the building is a tall, built man with skin as dark as the night and a wave of dreadlocks cascading over his shoulder. He wears a charcoal grey suit and a pair of sunglasses that Nico knows are to hide the abnormal golden color of his eyes as he scans the restaurant.

As always, Nico can't help but compare the man to his twin brother. Despite being able to shapeshift into whatever form they desire, Thanatos and Hypnos always seem to have the same exact face.

Thanatos' aura is one of someone who is powerful and knows it. He carries himself like a god, which makes it a little bit hilarious when he crosses the restaurant with purpose and slides into the McDonald's booth across from Nico. The god opens his mouth to greet him, but Nico speaks first without a thought.

"I'm on leave." Nico blurts. He grimaces after; while true, it is pretty rude to say like that. Luckily, Thanatos just raises an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"It is so, Lord Thanatos." Nico nods. He picks up one of his nuggets, and holds it up, a serious look on his face. "Can I interest you in a deal? I'll give you this, and you can leave and ask me to embark on whatever errand you have for me when I get back."

Thanatos sighs and does not take the chicken nugget.

"I sincerely apologize for seeking you out whilst you are on your very well deserved break," he says. To Nico's chagrin, he does look genuinely apologetic.

"But?" Nico asks, pulling his offered nugget back to himself and taking a bite. He chews a little forcefully, taking his annoyance out on the defenseless food.

"But," Thanatos repeats, "there is a very time sensitive case that I desperately need someone reliable to look into."

Nico takes a moment to finish chewing, staring Thanatos down. For not the first time, he wishes that his 'stop talking or else' glare, as Jason calls it, worked on gods. But alas, Thanatos does not stop talking.

"I, of course, will be willing to make up for any lost vacation time. Even if I must take up your duties to make sure that you get the rest you deserve." Thanatos offers. That makes Nico pause.

Usually when a god comes to him on his vacation, it's always 'do this or I will smite you, child of death'. He likes to think he's on good terms with Thanatos, but not to this extent. Whatever the god of death needs has to be Important with a capital i.

"Alright," Nico pushes his container of nuggets to the middle of the table to share. He might as well offer the nuggets if Thanatos isn't going to leave him be. "Tell me what you want. I'll consider it."

"I'm sure you are aware of the wizarding population, specifically the one in Britain?" Thanatos asks, casually pulling out a pair of chopsticks from his suit. If not for the words that have just come out of the god's mouth, Nico might have laughed a bit at the sight of him using his scythe as a utensil. Instead, his face twists into a very exhausted scowl.

The wizarding population is a bureaucratic nightmare in the underworld. The ghost population in the wizarding school in Scotland alone is enough to have Nico's father buried in paperwork—not to mention how wizards always seem to find infuriating ways of artificially extending their lives.  Whenever Nico is pulled in to help wrangle the wizard paperwork, he always comes very close to cursing out Hecate. What was she thinking anyways, blessing mortals with magic?

"Unfortunately, yes. I am aware of them."

"Have you heard of the Deathly Hallows?" Thanatos asks. His lips press into a line, as if he is very much hoping that the answer is 'no.'

Nico furrows his brows, thinking it over. After spending at least two years traveling to meet every death god possible, Nico rightfully considers himself knowledgeable on most death-related things. He has to keep his Ghost King title somehow. The term 'Deathly Hallows' isn't ringing any bells, though.

Seeing his confusion, Thanatos sighs—one that sounds more like a 'thank the gods' instead of a 'this fucking idiot,' which is appreciated.

"I suppose I shouldn't be this relieved that you haven't heard of them, but I am; I was sure that Hecate would have found out by now." At Nico's—slightly bewildered—probing look, Thanatos continues, daintily snagging a nugget with his chopsticks as he speaks. "A few... centuries ago, I believe, when Hecate was just beginning to bless mortals, I came across three brothers.

"Each was slated to die whilst attempting to cross a dangerous river; however, when I arrived to reap them, I witnessed them construct a bridge with magic. I had never seen mortals use magic before, you see, and was interested enough that I showed myself to them. Instead of taking them to the underworld, I offered them each a gift for showing me something new.

"The eldest brother asked for a mighty wand. The next asked for a stone that would allow him to speak to the dead. The youngest brother asked for a way to hide from anyone, and so I cut a length of fabric from my own Cloak and fashioned it into one for him."

Nico, in the middle of taking a sip of his drink, chokes. Thanatos pauses to let him splutter for a moment.

"Wait, wait—" Nico gasps, coughing into his fist. "You gave a bit of the Cloak of Shadows to a mortal?"

Thanatos nods, solemn as a god holding a chicken nugget can be.

"What the fuck?"

"I believed that I would get it back in due time, along with the rest of the gifts—but when each brother died, the gifts I bestowed upon them were nowhere to be found." Thanatos says, doing Nico the favor of ignoring the stream of whispered curses that pour from his mouth. "The wand and stone, while powerful, are not as big of a concern as the Cloak. It seems that the gifts have been passed down through wizards, becoming known as the Deathly Hallows. They believe that if one were to own all three, they would control Death itself."

Nico stares wordlessly at the god in front of him.

Belief is a god's lifeblood. If no one believes, then a god will eventually fade from existence—much like Pan did in the labyrinth all those years ago. On the opposite hand, a god could be changed by beliefs. If a whole civilization of these god-forsaken wizards believe that owning three Death-given objects will bring Thanatos himself under their thumb, then that very well may be the truth.

Seeing that Nico has understood why this is so important, Thanatos nods again.

"You see why this is such an urgent request." He notes, lips quirking up into a sardonic smile. It drops from his face a moment later. "I should be able to sense at least the Cloak, but years of being passed between wizards has seemed to dull it's divine presence. Lately though, I have received reports of their energy from some acquaintances of mine. All within the last few years, or so I'm told."

"Why didn't you come to me sooner?" Nico groans, tilting his head back into the booth seat. Thanatos huffs a laugh at his exasperation, leaning back as well.

"If I recall correctly, both of us were rather.... tied up at the time." He says dryly, glancing at his own wrists as if they might be chained again. Nico remembers the sound of the lid of a jar pressed into place, sealing out all light or air, and represses a flinch.

"Right." He mutters, picking up his drink. Maybe the near-acidic McDonald's sprite can wash away the faint taste of pomegranate that is invading his senses. Thanatos lets him chase away the taste of memories in as much privacy as sitting across from each other allows, scrutinizing the chicken nugget in his chopsticks cautiously. After a few moments of aggressive chugging, Nico all but slams his cup back on the table. "Alright. I'm assuming that this quest is to go find the Deathly Hallows?"

"Correct." Thanatos confirms, lowering the nugget. He looks faintly relieved to not be staring at it anymore. "The Cloak will take priority, as I would much rather have it back then let it roam the world. The other two I would prefer to recover, but they aren't as powerful, and thus less of an issue for us."

"Even if I can only get the Cloak back, that should be enough to stop anyone from becoming your new boss. I bet they wouldn't pay well anyway." Nico muses aloud. Thanatos gives him a look over the top of his sunglasses. "Sorry. Wait, does my father even pay you? Do gods feel the need to be paid? Is that why he doesn't pay me?"

"I'm not a part of the underworld's financial department." Thanatos says. "But no. I am not paid."

"We should really talk to Father about that... I know Charon gets paid, because he's always asking for a raise, which is frankly very annoying—"

"Nico." Thanatos interrupts his attempted ramble. Nico shakes his head and motions for the death god to talk. "The reports I have gotten all have originated Hogwarts, which I'm sure you know is a school for wizards. I'm afraid... the only way for you to have enough time to search for the Cloak is to enroll."

"....Enroll." Nico repeats. At Thanatos' solemn nod, he makes a doubtful face. "I only went to school for a few months, and I definitely did not learn any spells. How am I meant to enroll in wizard school?" 

"I am asking Hecate for a favor." Is Thanatos' vague answer. He finally lifts the chicken nugget he picked up earlier—the last one, as Nico has eaten the rest by now—and eats it. Nico eyes him incredulously. "For now, we shall go and get your school supplies."

Thanatos elegantly slides out of the booth and stands, leaving Nico blinking after him in bewilderment.

"Whoa, hold on—" He says as Thanatos stops in front of him, holding out his hand. "Now?"

"The school term starts on September first." Thanatos explains. "You have a little less than a month to buy your supplies and prepare your cover. I would have asked sooner, but I was busy setting things up."

"And you're coming with me?" Nico persists, ignoring the fact that Thanatos apparently already expected him to accept the quest. "Isn't that, I dunno, like... god illegal? To help me with a quest?"

"Think of this more like a personal request between coworkers than an official quest." The god of death suggests. The Ghost King wrinkles his nose, but finally reaches up and takes Thanatos' hand. Thanatos pulls him into darkness and they disappear from the McDonalds, leaving behind a very confused employee.

 

Chapter 2: Nico Takes an Ancestry Test

Notes:

i replaced goblins in gringotts by assigning each region with a bank its own god of wealth to run it and a workforce of whatever mythical creature would make most sense to work with money.

Nico has only a moment to shut his eyes before Thanatos pulls them both into the darkness. Night walking, the Nyx-created, more energy efficient form of shadow travelling, is much... darker. Instead of transporting through shadow, Thanatos takes them through Night herself. 

The glow-in-the-dark bracelet around Nico's right wrist is meant to ward off the pitch blackness that presses in from every direction while shadow travelling—with his eyes closed, Nico can pretend it works for night walking as well. The purposeful darkness of shutting one's eyes is much more preferable to having all light stripped away at the whims of another, after all.

When they arrive, Thanatos generously gives Nico a few moments to press his head against a brick wall and try not to throw up as the taste of pomegranate resurfaces.

Eventually, Thanatos leads him out of the alley and the two of them come out into a bright, loud street. Stores line each side, windows full of magic and strange creatures. Wizards bustle down the road, chattering to themselves and levitating their purchases along as their screaming children run between their legs. It's enough to give Nico a headache. Luckily he's used to those by now and is easily able to ignore the pressure behind his temples.

"We'll be going to Gringotts first," Thanatos says, gesturing to a large marble building at the end of the street, "to exchange some gold for wizarding money."

"Got it." Nico acknowledges, squaring his shoulders. He and Thanatos begin to make their way towards Gringotts, dodging wizards and children. Two dwarves are stationed at the doors, each decked in armor and holding iron weapons. He bows his head to them as he and Thanatos pass, and the dwarves glance at each other.

The inside of Gringotts is a long room, just as large and gilded as the outside is, made of gold-streaked marble with gold embellishments. On either side of the large hall is a line of desks, each with a dwarf teller dealing with customers. At the very end of the hall is a tall podium from where another dwarf is glaring down at the wizards. 

As they walk deeper into the room, Nico thinks that Pluto would appreciate the way the tall ceilings of Gringotts lets the sound of chiming gold echo throughout the main room.

Thanatos guides him to a teller's line that is much shorter than the others and they wait a few minutes until the older lady with a vulture hat is done with her transaction. She leaves without even a word of thanks to her teller, which has Nico arching an eyebrow in judgement. He steps forward when Thanatos nudges him.

"Name?" The ginger-bearded dwarf asks without looking up from their parchment. 

"Nico di Angelo. I wanted to exchange some gold for wizarding money." Nico explains. He is already reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket to retrieve some of Hazel's metals from the void inside when the dwarf's eyes snap up to meet his own, quill stilling.

"Nico di Angelo, you say?" They ask, studying him. Nico glances over his shoulder to give Thanatos a confused glance. Thanatos returns his gaze, then looks back at the dwarf, eyes appraising behind his sunglasses. It's slightly comforting to know that Thanatos also has no clue what this could mean. Slightly.

"Yes?"

The teller scowls and ducks underneath their desk—rising with a parchment and an ornate silver dagger. They place both on the desk with a fair amount of force. 

"Seven drops of blood." They say. Nico blinks, twisting the skull ring on one of his fingers. He does not pick up the knife.

"And why do I need to do this?" He asks instead, eyeing the teller. "I'm not really in the habit of giving out blood."

"It is simply an identity test." The teller informs him sharply, scowl deepening. They push the dagger closer and when no warnings come from Thanatos, he picks it up. 

The teller watches as he slices his thumb and counts out drops of blood, putting down the dagger and sticking his thumb in his mouth when he's done. The teller makes a face at that but doesn't say anything, opting instead to look down at the parchment.

A moment passes, then the small puddle of blood begins to spread, sinking into the paper. Instead of red stains, the blood leaves behind words made of swirling letters. It's a language that seems to be a mix of Norse runes, something Germanic, and another language Nico doesn't recognize, let alone understand.

The teller waits until the blood has disappeared and the words have stopped spreading to pull the paper over to themself. They look over it with a pinched look, scowl only deepening as they read further. They glance up at Nico, who frowns inquisitively back.

"Till closed!" The teller barks, making the small line of wizards that have gathered behind Nico and Thanatos groan as they disperse. To Nico, they nod, suddenly polite, though their tone remains clipped. "Please follow me, Lord di Angelo."

"Lord di Angelo?" Nico repeats in a whisper as they begin to trot off. He looks back at Thanatos.

"I'm not sure what this is about, I'm afraid." The god admits. "I will be with you, so do not be anxious to follow."

Nico makes a face, but Thanatos misses it as he steps behind Nico and melts into his shadow. No wizard reacts to seeing a grown man disappear into a teenager's shade; Thanatos must have been invisible this entire time. As Nico begins to follow the teller, he has the horrible thought that 'this entire time' might include McDonald's as well. He makes up his mind to never go to that specific location again, just in case.

The bank teller is waiting for him in front of a large door that blends right into the gold-streaked marble wall. If not for an ornate golden doorknob embedded into it, Nico wouldn't have noticed it was a door at all, especially if he didn't have a grumpy dwarf leading him straight to it.

The dwarf opens the door with ease, despite how heavy a slab of marble on hinges must be, and waits for Nico to step in before following him in. He waits in turn for them to take the lead, which they do quickly, bustling down the marble hallway without checking to see if he's following. Nico scans the area, eyes trailing over the lanterns lining the walls, before falling in step behind them. He twists his ring warily.

As far as he's aware, dwarves don't have any bloodlust towards demigods, but he isn't really sure they're friendly either. Just as he makes a mental note to Iris Message his questions to Fierro later, the marble door behind them falls shut with a loud thud. The lanterns blow out not even a second later, plunging them into darkness.

In the blink of an eye, Nico has pulled his sword from the dark and has it pointed at where the dwarf has come to a standstill. The soft glow of his bracelet bathes them both in ghastly green and allows him to see the absolutely withering look the dwarf levels at him over their shoulder.

"Calm yourself, halfling," they say with a scornful tone, "and put away your weapon. This is a business, not one of your back-alley brawls."

Nico doesn't budge. 

it is fine. Thanatos chimes in from his shadow after a tense moment. i will not allow you to be harmed, Nico.

He hesitates a moment longer before dropping his sword to his side, dissolving it back into the shadows. The dwarf sniffs judgmentally and snaps their fingers. The lights turn back on at their command—or rather, they flicker on.

Instead of white marble and steady magical lighting, the hallway Nico stands in is made of dark, worn wood, candle-lit lamps and porthole windows lining the walls. A slight breeze comes from seemingly nowhere, carrying the scent of the sea. The entire hallway shifts slightly, as if rocking on the waves. 

"Where, exactly, are you taking me?" He asks with a grimace, glancing through a porthole. He isn't fond of boats after the Argo—which is a shame, because he loves pirates. Unfortunately the smell of the sea nowadays is just a reminder that both of Nico's uncles would love a chance to kill him.

"All demigod wizards must speak to the boss about their accounts." The dwarf replies shortly. They resume marching down the hall. "This way."

"Wait, I don't need an account." Nico protests as he follows them. "I was just looking to exchange some gold!"

His guide completely ignores him, taking a sharp left into another hallway Nico didn't even see until just then. He huffs and follows them around it, only to find them standing stationary in front of another door. This one is wooden like the rest of the hall, with a port window that has frosted glass in it. There is white decal on the glass, spelling out something in Norse runes.

Nico slows to a stop next to the dwarf, staring at the runes. He really should get around to learning to read those, he thinks, but Italian is already hard enough to learn. 

"Sir," calls the dwarf through the door. They give Nico an acidic look. "I have a demigod to see you."

Nico opens his mouth to remind them that he didn't ask to be brought here, but someone else talks before him.

"Thank you, Moltenstone," a man answers, "you may send him in."

Moltenstone opens the door for him, shooing him inside impatiently. As soon as he's crossed the threshold, the door is firmly shut behind him. Nico stays there for a moment, looking over the space he's just been forced into. 

It isn't actually a room, but the long, open-aired deck of a Nordic ship. Instead of rows of benches for sailors, there are lines of filing cabinets. A wave breaks on the side of the ship, but the water collides with an invisible barrier instead of soaking whatever paperwork is stored there. Down the deck, framed by filing cabinets, sits a simple, oaken desk. An older man sits at it, surrounded by papers and a few nautical tools. He has long pale, white-blond braided hair and eyes the color of seafoam.

Nico approaches him cautiously. Thanatos doesn't speak up to tell him he's in danger, which is probably a good sign. The man is focused on a scale sat in front of him, weighing rocks against weird-looking gold coins. He only looks up when Nico steps up to the desk and a floorboard creaks.

"Ah, son of Hades." He greets, nodding his head. Nico bows shallowly back—mostly on instinct, if he's honest. He's had many audiences with various gods and by now the greeting is second nature. The god smiles faintly.

this is Njörðr, god of the sea and wealth. Thanatos whispers to him. Njörðr's eyes flit to Nico's shadow for just a moment before meeting his eyes again. Nico swallows.

"Lord Njörðr," he starts, lips twisting awkwardly around the foreign syllables, "I think—"

"Call me Njord." The Nordic god interrupts, waving his hand dismissively. A wave following the movement rocks against the ship. "Most people do nowadays. Easier to pronounce, apparently." 

"R-right." Nico says, pushing down a wave of nausea as the boat rocks. "Well, Lord Njord, I think there's been a mistake."

"Oh?" Njord says, eyebrow raising. Nico nods.

"The teller that brought me here said something about accounts, but I'm not looking to open one. I just wanted to exchange some gold, you see—"

"Moltenstone was referring to your parents' accounts, off course." Njord cuts in once again. He begins to shuffle through the papers on his desk. "Your father has a vast sum in his accounts, obviously. Considering he runs the Italy branch and is co-owner of the west U.S.A. branches, it only makes sense."

Njord glances up and smiles dryly at Nico's bewildered expression.

"But seeing as you obviously didn't know about that, I will need to email him before allowing you to have any access to those vaults." Njord gives Nico a questioning look and receives a head-shake after a moment. Nico isn't sure if Thanatos wants to keep this quest on the down-low from Hades, but he would rather be safe than sorry. "Right, well, your mother left you a healthy sum, so you may not even need Pluto's wealth."

"My mother?" Nico echoes. Why was she being brought up? How had she left him anything? 

"Yes, your mother." Njord pulls a sheet of parchment from one of his stacks and waves it at Nico. It looks exactly like the blood identity test from earlier. "You are Nico di Angelo, son of Hades and Maria di Angelo, last Heir to the most Ancient and Noble House of di Angelo, are you not?"

Notes:

when i said dont expect frequent updates i really meant it but also dont expect them to be consistent lmao.

btw comments talking abt what you like in my fic are great and give me inspo for more to write so if u got somethin to say dont be shy i crave validation

Chapter 3: Have a Stick, For Your Troubles

A flurry of thoughts rush through Nico's head, mostly consisting of lines of unpronounceable question marks, as the Norse sea god stares at him. 

"Well?" Njord prompts after a moment of shocked silence. He waves the ancestry parchment at Nico once more, as if to remind him it's there. "You are the son of Hades, aren't you, Nico?"

"I... guess?" Nico answers faintly. He's starting to feel wildly in over his head here. Being out of his depth, not that he's bragging, isn't something Nico experiences often these days, so it's very disconcerting.

"You guess?" Njord repeats. He adopts a slightly scornful look, as if he thought Nico was clever and is now doubting that opinion. Nico would normally feel a bit offended by it, but his knees are starting to feel a bit weak, and the headache he was ignoring is coming back full force.

"I am Nico di Angelo," he corrects himself. Is the boat swaying harder than it was before, or is it just him? "But—Lord Njord, are you saying... was my mother a wizard?"

"Ah." The scorn disappears from Njord's expression in a blink, replaced with the look of a man pitying a small animal; or of a god pitying an insignificant mortal. He waves his hand and a chair appears, pressed against Nico's knees. He collapses into it without sparing a thought to the god in his shadow. "You didn't know."

"No, my... my memories of her were erased." Nico mutters.

He knows of his mother. Hades will sometimes make off-handed comments about what she was like, or tell little anecdotes of her doing amusing things. He knows that she died because Zeus wanted to punish Nico's father for having children. Other than that, Nico knows very little about Maria di Angelo. Not her face or voice, nor her habits. Hades says Nico resembles her in some ways but never specifies in which ways—he doesn't know if he can find his mother in the curve of his nose or the shape of his eyes. 

The Lethe has rendered Nico and Maria, for all intents and purposes, strangers.

Njord watches him for a long moment, silence only interrupted by the sound of small waves breaking against the ship's hull, before he abruptly stands from his desk. Without a word, he walks to a nearby filing cabinet and pulls open one of the higher drawers. Nico's eyes follow the movement of Njord thumbing through files and he is grateful for something to focus on other than his swirling thoughts.

"Here we are," the sea god murmurs to himself, finally extracting a file. He brings it back to his desk and sits, pushing away papers and doohickeys so he has a clear spot to place the folder down. There is something written on the cover, but Nico doesn't get a chance to start deciphering it, as Njord opens the file a second later.

Nico's curiosity wins out over the shocked numbness that had spread over him and he finds himself leaning forward, scanning over the contents of the file. Njord gives him an amused look and pushes the manila file closer so he has a better view. 

On one side of the folder, seemingly not being held down by anything despite staying firmly in the middle of the folder's inside cover, sits an intricate black key. Multiple strands of black metal twist together around the actual key bit, spiraling up it until they join together to form a knight's helmet, with wings outstretched behind it. Nico has a feeling this key is important, so he commits the shape to memory before letting his gaze slide to the actual paperwork in the folder. On top is a weathered piece of dark parchment, written on with looping cursive script. Nico squints at the words for a moment but quickly gives up any hope of understanding it. Dyslexia makes reading normal text difficult on the best of days. Loopy cursive? Not happening.

"What's this?" He asks Njord instead, glancing up. The god smiles back, and Nico idly thinks that he's much nicer than the Greek gods. Then again, he is a sea god, and the oceans are unpredictable in their moods. Maybe Nico has just come on a fair-weather day.

"This," Njord picks up the black key and holds it out towards Nico, "is the key to the di Angelo trust vault. It will allow you to draw money from the trust vault, until you are of age to access the main vault."

Belatedly, Nico realizes Njord is waiting for him to accept the key. He quickly raises a hand and lets the god place the key in it. The black metal is heavy and cold to the touch, and it faintly emanates an aura of power. It feels ancient—and a bit divine. Nico tucks it into one of his jacket's inner pockets for safekeeping, secure in the knowledge that each of his pockets are connected to shadows. They will deposit his belongings in his room of the underworld palace so there's practically no way to lose them. 

"The age of majority in this culture is seventeen, by the way." Njord adds once the key is safely put away.

"Technically, I'm around ninety." Nico points out, then scowls. Percy and Leo love to bring that up whenever he doesn't understand one of their slang words. He didn't mean to echo them.

"I'm afraid, Nico, that time spent in stasis does not legally count." Njord rebukes gently, though he clearly finds the argument amusing. "You will have to settle for a thousand galleons a month. I'm sure you'll survive."

"I'm sure I will." Nico agrees. He still has some trouble with conceptualizing money and it's value after all of his years in the Casino. The mix of being completely broke and his father paying for him afterwards didn't help matters. He also has no fucking clue what a 'galleon' is, and he is not going to ask. "And the paper?"

"That, son of Hades, is your mother's handwritten last will and testament."

Nico's eyes snap down to the parchment, tracing the swirling, swooping letters. Letters written by his mother's hand. He feels... well, not much of anything, if he's honest. His own handwriting is quick and jagged, sacrificing any elegance for speed. From what he remembers, Bianca's writing had the occasional loop to connect letters together, but nothing like this. The shape of the words on the will are foreign to him. Njord watches him scour the page for any sense of connection to Maria di Angelo and come up empty.

"It states that she leaves her estates and vaults to her children, and a few other belongings to other people she knew." Njord says, apparently taking pity on him once again. And while he maintains that Njord is nicer than the Greek gods, Nico is starting to dislike that expression on his face; he's never liked pity. He can't think of anyone who does like it. "Since you are the last remaining Heir of the house, all of the things she left for her children will belong to you."

Swallowing down the emotions that brings up — if Bianca were alive, would she have been the heir instead? — Nico nods. That means money is taken care of; all he has to do now is receive that favor from Hecate and the godly help portion of this quest should be done. After that, he'll be free to prepare on his own. 

He takes a calming breath, reigning his composure back in.

"I think I should be going." He announces as he pushes himself out of the chair. Njord watches him, the pitying look still on his face. Nico bows to him so he doesn't have to look at it any longer. "Thank you for your help, Lord Njord."

Nico exits Gringotts with a pounding migraine, new knowledge about himself, and a pamphlet on how magical currency works. The sun is just on the verge of setting and the Alley seems to have calmed significantly with it's fall. Which is good. After all of that, Nico needs a moment. 

Nico walks halfway down the stairs to Gringotts, on the sides where most people aren't walking, and sits down heavily. He ignores the few scornful looks his actions get in favor of dropping his head into his hands. 

"Are you feeling alright?" Thanatos asks. He sounds almost hesitant as he once again materializes, sitting right next to the demigod. Nico breathes out a mimicry of a laugh.

"Oh yeah." Nico replies, grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes until he can see small starbursts of color. "Peachy-keen, as Will would say. I'm a huge fan of having breakdowns in front of gods I've just met, didn't you know? Love when that happens."

Thanatos sighs. 

"I'm very sorry that you had to go through that. I was not aware that Lord Hades told you so little about Lady Maria."

Nico barks out a bitter laugh and drops his hands from his face.

"Wish I could say I'm surprised." He tells the stairs with a sardonic smile. He feels exhausted suddenly. Probably the day catching up to him. The smile drops as quickly as it came and he glances at Thanatos. "So. What's next?"

Thanatos merely reaches into his jacket, retrieving a long, narrow wooden box from its depths. He silently offers it to Nico and Nico takes it gently. 

Inside is a length of white wood with fine golden grain, and a handle that looks tastefully burnt to darken the color. The whole thing is meticulously polished. Much like with the key from earlier, Nico feels both divinity and something else — magic. 

"A wand," Thanatos murmurs, "made by Hecate herself for you."

Entranced, Nico gently reaches into the box and pulls out the wand. His hand settles around the grip as if it is meant to be there, and a thrum of power resonates up his arm to the rest of his body. It's dark and cool, like a shadow, but tangible somehow too. It reminds Nico of his sword — inanimate but alive.

A small note flutters out of the box. Nico jerks, trying to catch it before it hits the ground. Except it never gets there; there's another thrum of that power, and the paper comes to a halt mid-air. Then, slowly, it begins to raise back up, until it's hovering right in front of him. Waiting. Cautiously, Nico takes it.

"Oh, is that from Hecate?" Thanatos inquires, leaning over slightly to catch a look.

Indeed, the note has an H inked in dark swirling font. Nico lowers his new wand back into its box to pry the paper open. Inside is much of the same script, swirling and grandiose. Nico squints at the writing, then lowers the paper.

"I am dyslexic." He states monotonously, staring at the marble stairs. Do gods just forget that?

"Allow me," Thanatos plucks the note from his hands casually. Nico's first response is to go 'hey, my note!' but he restrains himself. He can't read it anyway.

"Dear brother of Hazel Levesque," Thanatos begins.

"Wow. That's a new one."

"The wand I have gifted to you," Thanatos continues to speak, as if Nico hasn't said anything, "is made of Aspen wood, with Thestral hair and Dragon heartstring in it's core, along with a bit of ichor to make sure it works with your divinity. This wand is the best and most well matched you will ever find, so I expect you to take care of it."

Nico casts his eyes down to the wand in the box. For a moment he imagines he sees it subtly vibrate at his attention, but when he lays a hand on it, it's still and solid. He hums quietly and looks back up at Thanatos to make sure there's no more of the note that needs to be read.

"Hm, then she says; ps, tell Hazel to come down for a visit sometime soon." Thanatos adds, frowning. "Hecate really has taken a shine to your sister, hasn't she?"

"Yeah. ...Is that all, Lord Thanatos?" Nico questions. "No more godly gifts or pointers?"

"I'm afraid not," Thanatos answers with a shake of his head. He stands, adjusting his sunglasses as he does. "I wish you luck, Nico di Angelo. Should you truly need my help you are welcome to contact me, but I do not guarantee that I can assist you."

"That sounds about right." Nico says, following the god's lead and rising to his feet. The sun has started to slip behind the horizon. Casting dark shadows on everything around them, it creates a rather dramatic scene.

"Farewell, Lord Thanatos. I'll do my best to find the Cloak."

"I have no doubt that you will succeed." Thanatos says. His form begins to dissolve, merging with the shadows of sunset. "Good luck, son of Hades, and godspeed."

Notes:

so, almost decided not to continue this after y'know. Blood libel the game came out. I think its pretty clear from the changes ive made to this world that i do NOT support rowling or her views, and i do NOT endorse her views of jewish or trans people. If you do, or you bought that game, I don't want you here.

 

on a lighter note im still debating the pros and cons of setting this fic in gof vs OoP but its kinda decided maybe. Uh let me know ur opinion! Nico will not be in the Triwizard tournament either way but it would be fun

Chapter 4: Luna Lovegood and Nico di Angelo

Notes:

surprise! its me!

Harry's dreams are fraught with distressing imagery. His parents, standing next to Dumbledore, all three adults refusing to look at or speak to him. Mrs. Weasley sobbing over Ron's corpse, only crying harder when the Prefect badge pinned to her youngest son's chest comes to life and accuses Harry of being a jealous twat. And that damned black corridor, the closed door at the end mocking him.

Despite Mrs. Black screaming expletives in the background, Harry is equal parts relieved and disoriented when an already dressed Ron shakes him awake. As Harry speeds through changing out of his pajamas, Ron explains that Fred and George have accidentally sent Ginny down two flights of stairs with their flying trunks, which is why Mrs. Black is screaming her head off. Harry grimaces in sympathy as he pulls his shirt on for both Ginny and the twins, who he can distantly hear being yelled at by their mother.

Hermione appears with Hedwig in tow just as Harry pulls on his shoes. She assures Ron and him that Ginny is fine, and mentions something about Mad-Eye being annoyed because their guard is one short.

"We have to have a guard to go to King's Cross?" Harry asks incredulously.

"You have to have a guard," she corrects him as she passes Hedwig over. Harry irritably puts his owl back in her carrier, scowling.

"Does Mad-Eye think Voldemort is going to attack me in broad daylight while I'm getting on the train?" He questions argumentatively. Hermione gives him a look and checks her watch.

"That's just what Mad-Eye said, Harry. We're going to be late, though, if we don't—"

She's interrupted by Mrs. Weasley calling them. The three of them make their way down the stairs, dragging their trunks behind them. No one has bothered to cover the Black matriarch's painting so she continues to scream filth at them, making an already hectic morning even more overwhelming. Mrs. Weasley is frazzled and looks it; she motions them to hurry when she notices them.

"Just leave your things, Alastor will take care of them... Oh — for heaven's sake, Sirius!" She scolds, addressing the large grim that appears at Harry's side, "Dumbledore said no!"

Harry gives his godfather a scratch behind the ear as the dog gives Mrs. Weasley its best pleading puppy eyes. She stands firm for only a moment before her resolve crumbles under the stress of the morning.

"Fine!" She acquiesces, turning away from them. "But it's on your own head if you're caught!"

Padfoot yips happily and joins Harry in weaving through the trunks left in the entry hall. He keeps his eyes on the front door, trying to ignore the selkie coats they haven't been able to get off the walls yet. Looking at them only makes him feel bad for Kreacher, who's a fucking prat at the best of times.

Mrs. Weasley ushers them out the front door and they meet a disguised Tonks down the street. They take a very boring twenty minute walk to King's Cross while Mrs. Weasley complains to herself about having to travel without magic and Padfoot enjoys being out of the house. Once there, they slip into the 9¾'s platform one by one.

Being on the bustling platform takes a weight off of Harry's shoulders. He's missed the warm feeling of magic; Grimmauld Place had too much darkness and cleaning up to feel like home. Being in front of the Express makes Harry feel like he's on the doorstep, almost home. He is actually going back to Hogwarts.

They rush through their goodbyes, having gotten there only a few minutes before the last whistle. Tonks gives Hermione a hug and Mrs. Weasley gives them all hugs. Sirius jumps up to put his huge paws on Harry's shoulder but is quickly dislodged as Mrs. Weasley pushes Harry towards the train, scolding Sirius under her breath.

"See you!" Harry yells out the window as the train begins moving, waving energetically until he can't see them anymore. Once they're gone, and the twins have left to 'do business,' Harry turns to his friends. "Time to find a compartment, then?"

Ron and Hermione exchange looks.

"We have to report to the Prefect carriage." Hermione reminds Harry gently, though she looks just as awkward telling him as Ron does standing there, staring at his fingernails.

"Oh. Right." Harry says. He feels a little stupid for having forgotten.

"We won't be there the whole trip!" Hermione is quick to reassure him. "I think we'll just get directions from the Head Boy, then have to patrol the hall from time to time."

"Right. I'll, uh, see you later, maybe."

“Yeah, definitely,” Ron agrees quickly, though the glance he throws Harry's way is nervous. "I'd rather go with you, I mean — it's a pain, I don't enjoy it, I'm — I'm not Percy."

“I know you’re not,” Harry assures him, giving his best friend a grin. Ron seems to relax a bit, smiling back. Harry keeps his smile as Ron and Hermione leave but he can't help but feel hurt. It's weird to not have them; he's never gone a trip on the train without the two of them.

"Don't mope." Ginny says from behind him. Harry, having forgotten she was standing there, jumps just a bit. She's smirking at him when he turns to her. "Come on. If we get a move on, we can save them seats."

The two of them, dragging their trunks and Hedwig behind them, make their way down the train in search of a carriage. For any compartment that Harry looks into, he is met with curious stares and whispering. It's only after the fifth or so time this happens that Harry remembers being told that the Prophet has been publishing slander pieces about him all summer. From then on, Harry is painfully aware of the glances and whispering. They grate on his nerves and make him irritable, though he does his best to not show it.

They find Neville at the end of the train, looking nervous and sweaty as ever. Obviously not wanting a repeat of first year, he has an iron grip on Trevor.

"Hi Harry, hi Ginny." He greets. "I can't find a seat... Everywhere is full."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asks, squeezing past him to look inside the last carriage. "There's room here. It's just Loony Lovegood and some other bloke."

"I didn't want to disturb them..." Neville excuses. Harry pokes his head past Neville to glance inside the compartment; there's a girl Ginny's age with blonde hair and weird glasses, and another guy wearing a leather jacket and other extremely muggle clothes. He's asleep, arms crossed and head leaning against the window. The scene almost perfectly mirrors one Harry experienced in third year.

"Don't be silly, she's alright. I'll take care of the bloke if he's a dick." Ginny pulls the door open as she says it, sticking her head in. "Hi Luna, you and your friend mind if we take these seats?"

"No, not at all." Luna Lovegood replies in a voice Harry can only describe as 'distant' as she watches them through her crazy glasses. "He won't mind, I'm sure."

Ginny starts to enter, but Harry grabs her shirt to stop her. He quickly lets go once she turns to glare daggers at him and grimaces.

"No offense," Harry says, "but the last time I got into a compartment with a sleeping homeless person, we got raided by dementors. I don't know about you, but I've had enough dementors for eight lifetimes."

"All of the other compartments are full," Luna informs him, giving Harry a floaty smile. "Besides, you're only on your sixth life. You've got three to spare, and the angel won't take one."

That seems good enough for Ginny, as she impatiently pushes past Harry to drop into the seat next to Luna. Harry glances at Neville and gets a sheepish smile for his trouble. Outnumbered, Harry joins the girls in the compartment with a scowl, taking the seat right next to the strange boy. If he turns out to be a threat, then Harry will be the first to notice. Neville joins him on the bench a moment later, sliding the door shut behind him.

Harry's friends begin conversing with Luna, introducing themselves and asking about her summer. Harry keeps his contributions to a minimum, choosing to just listen as he keeps an eye on their unwelcome guest. Eventually the conversation turns to quidditch, which finds Harry focused on talking about the team news rather than the intruder.

When he does glance back over, he finds the stranger wide awake and calmly watching them all with dark gray eyes.

"Bloody hell!" Harry curses, starting back into Neville as he fumbles to draw his wand from his pocket. Ginny has her own drawn a mere second after he does, but by the time the others are looking, the boy has his eyes closed again. Harry splutters, gesturing at the seemingly peacefully sleeping passenger. "He's awake!"

"Oh yes," Luna agrees serenely, "he has been since you opened the door."

"What the fuck?" Ginny asks, loudly and aptly summarizing Harry's own thoughts. The unknown boy opens one eye to send Luna an absolutely withering glare, and receives a smile back. Then he closes his eye again like they didn't all just see it. Ginny adopts an indignant look. "Don't just keep pretending, you git! Explain yourself or I'll hex you!"

The stranger sighs, long and put out, before straightening up in his seat, though his arms stay crossed. It gives him an air of annoyance when his eyes reopen to glance them all over with what Harry feels is disdain.

"Well?" Harry demands, bristling. The guy gives Harry a look, which does not help his rapidly shortening temper. He opens his mouth to keep pushing — and is interrupted by a smooth, quiet voice.

"I was hoping to ride in silence," he says. His accent, a mix of American and something more melodic that Harry can't place, catches the three of them off guard — Luna is the only one unperturbed. The surprise almost distracts Harry from how the stranger talks. Quiet, yes, but with a sense of gravity that makes him want to listen. It reminds him of his first potions lesson; the connection to Snape, of all people, doesn't exactly endear this stranger to Harry. Especially when he follows up with, "Guess I should have known it was a lost cause."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry snaps back immediately, leaning forward. Maybe he's being unfair, but he's been isolated all summer and he's already sick and tired of people assuming things about him without even knowing him. The whispers and looks and being treated like an outcast — Harry can't yell at his classmates, but this foreigner is right here, right now, being rude. At least if Harry starts a fight here, Ginny will have his back.

"Whoa!" Neville interjects from behind, grabbing Harry's shoulder. "I-I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, Harry! Right?"

He gives the stranger a pleading look. The stranger glances at him and then looks Harry over. This time he looks curious rather than annoyed or judgemental. For a moment, he searches Harry's eyes, then nods as if he's found something.

"Right," he agrees with Neville, "just meant that a train full of students was bound to be noisy."

Harry's shoulders loosen a bit and Neville breathes a sigh of relief. The boy's eyes stay on Harry for a second longer before sliding away.

"Now that you two are done with your pissing contest," Ginny speaks up drolly, "who the fuck are you?"

"Technically, you guys came into my compartment," the stranger points out, "shouldn't you go first?"

"Hell no—"

"I'm Luna Lovegood." Luna says airily, derailing Ginny before she can attempt to hex anyone. "These are my friends; Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter."

She points each of them out as she goes. When she lands on Harry, the boy gives him another appraising look, raising Harry's metaphorical hackles. He prepares to defend himself against any stupid questions about Voldemort or Cedric — only none come. He doesn't even receive the customary eye-flick to his forehead, looking for his scar. The stranger just looks back to Luna without a word, leaving Harry feeling unbalanced and wrong-footed.

"Nico di Angelo," he finally introduces himself, nodding his head respectfully, "Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House, or so I'm told."

"Great," Harry can't help but mutter derisively, "another pureblood prick."

"I'm a half-blood, actually," di Angelo corrects just as quietly. The corners of his lips tick up for a second, smiling like he's told a joke he doesn't expect any of them to understand. It quickly disappears.

"Sorry for not announcing myself earlier," di Angelo says louder, addressing the whole compartment instead of just Harry. "I just found out I'm a witch, so I'm trying to learn as much through osmosis as I can."

Well, that explains why Harry has never seen him before. He can't say he's heard of Hogwarts transfers before, but they were never relevant to anything he did, so they might exist.

"That doesn't excuse you being a creep." Ginny mutters while crossing her arms. Di Angelo shrugs like he's used to hearing that.

"Sorry." He says again. Then he stands, fluidly stepping over their legs until he's at the compartment door. "I should find somewhere else to sit. Enjoy the ride."

With that, di Angelo disappears out the door before any of them can say anything. The four of them sit in silence for a moment before Ginny says something to Luna, reigniting their conversation. Harry joins in this time but can't help the way his eyes flick to the door every once in a while like di Angelo will reappear. He can't wait for Ron and Hermione to come back; surely they'll think the new transfer student is just as suspicious as he does.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, did di Angelo have a trunk at all?

Notes:

As you can see I decided to go with OotP, since I thought Harry would be too busy if I went with GoF and i want them to interact damn it. What's the point otherwise!!!! You may have also noticed that I replaced the house elf heads with selkie coats - this is part of my 'replacing jowling rowlings racist species with fae/other fantasy races' agenda. Plot relevant house elves (aka rich people elves) are now Selkies, and the hogwarts ones are now just normal brownies and human employees.

also I did not do as much editing as i probably shouldve so for this One chapter you can tell me if you see a grammar or spelling error. just ignore them in other chapters unless i say. this chap is like 200 words longer than the others bc we finally have more than two characters at any one time i guess. that and harry keeps talking idk. enjoy!

 

and just for funsies heres the nico playlist i listen to while writing

Chapter 5: Quite a Lot Happens All At Once

Notes:

anyone else think that lavender brown would be a fujoshi if she knew what that was

Harry's mind is swimming with so many new things that he almost forgets about Nico di Angelo entirely. Between Malfoy implying that he knows Siruis was on the train platform, to horses he and Luna are collectively hallucinating, then Hagrid not being there to guide the first years — suffice to say that Harry has a very distracted carriage ride. It's nice to be back with Ron and Hermione, at least.

Harry is the first out of the carriage when it stops in front of the castle steps. He looks towards Hagrid's hut and finds the windows dark and lifeless. Unsettled, he turns his attention back to the skeletal herd of horses that apparently only he and 'Loony' can see. The sight does not help the unease building in the pit of his stomach, nor does seeing people come together to whisper about him as he and his group move into the castle. Harry does his best to pretend he doesn't see them on the way to the Great Hall.

Neville and Ginny stick with them until they reach the Gryffindor table, Luna having split off for Ravenclaw. Once there, Ginny is called away by a group of other fourth years. The rest of them find seats near the middle of the table, with Nearly Headless Nick on one side, and Parvati and Lavender on the other. Given the way the two girls greet him, they have clearly just been gossiping about Harry. He ignores the sour taste that puts in his mouth to crane his neck at the professor's table.

"He's not there," Harry announces after a moment, turning back to Ron and Hermione. The two of them scan the table as well and also find that Hagrid is notably missing.

"He wouldn't have left?" Ron says anxiously. Harry shakes his head.

"'Course not."

"Do you think he's ...hurt, or something?" Hermione conspires uneasily.

"No," Harry immediately denies the possibility. He doesn't want to even entertain the thought, lest it be true. Hermione gives him one of the looks she does when he's not playing along.

"Then where is he?"

"Well, maybe—" Harry lowers his voice and leans closer, so the other three students can't hear. "Maybe he's not back. From that.. thing, that Dumbledore was having him do over the summer?"

"Good thinking, mate." Ron agrees, looking much more assured about their groundskeeper's safety. Hermione doesn't seem quite as convinced. She bites her lip and looks back to the head table; her gaze sharpens from concern to confusion.

"Who's that?" She asks sharply, pointing up to the middle of the table. Harry and Ron both swivel to see who she means.

Sitting next to Dumbledore, who wears a robe just as eye-catching and weird as he usual, is a short, slightly pudgy woman with curled brown hair. Dressed in garish pink Harry is surprised he missed, she looks quite like someone's aunt who hasn't accepted she's aging. Then the woman turns her head to take a sip from her goblet and Harry gapes.

"It's that Umbridge woman!" He hisses at his friends. At their confusion he continues to explain, "She was at my hearing. She works for Fudge!"

"That explains the cardigan," Ron smirks, "must have terrible taste!"

"She works for Fudge?" Hermione questions, ignoring Ron's remark as usual. "What is she doing here, then? Surely they haven't —"

She cuts herself off, staring up and down the length of the head table like she's trying to solve a mystery. Harry almost asks what she means, but his attention is instead grabbed by Professor Grubby-Plank taking Hagrid's usual seat. Only a few seconds later, the Great Hall's door opens to let a stream of first years flood in for their sorting. Professor McGonagall puts the Hat down on the stool like every year and steps back as it trembled. Finally, the seam near the brim rips open and the Hat begins to sing.

Harry will admit that he hasn't really paid attention to the last few years of songs from the Hat. He remembers his first year but after that he has been preoccupied. In second year, Dobby the house selkie had been on his mind. In the third, Sirius had distracted most. Maybe he had listened in fourth year, but he couldn't remember much from that dinner except the outrage of Quidditch being cancelled for the Triwizard Tournament. This year would have most likely been another that Harry did not listen too closely to the Hat's song if not for it being clearly different from the previous years.

Instead of singing about the virtues of each House, the Hat sings about the founders of Hogwarts and how they had splintered the school between itself. It warns that the school must unite before falling silent once more. The Hall applauds as usual, but for once the sound is undercut by whispers and confusion.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" Ron, eyebrows raised, is the first of their group to speak up. Harry nods in agreement.

"Do you think it's given warnings before?" Hermione asks anxiously. Nearly Headless Nick chooses that moment to lean over, straight through Neville, who winces.

"Oh yes," the house ghost says, completely ignoring or perhaps not noticing the uncomfortable look on Neville's face, "the hat feels honor bound to warn the school whenever it feels—"

The muttering in the room hushes abruptly. Harry can see Professor McGonagall giving the hall a severe glare through Nearly Headless Nick. The ghost good-naturedly puts a finger to his mouth and sits back up, much to the visible relief of Neville. Once the hall has quieted to her standards, McGonagall begins to read out the names on her list to be sorted.

Harry all but zones this process out, though of course he claps for every new Gryffindor sent to their table. Instead of paying attention to the children walking to the Hat, Harry's gaze drifts to the Slytherin table and settles on Malfoy.

Obviously his word choice had been deliberate, right? Which means he knows that the dog with Harry at King's Cross was Sirius. Harry will have to check after dinner to make sure Sirius got back to Grimmauld safely and let the Order know that someone's told Malfoy about him being an animagus. Probably Wormtail, the coward. It will probably be helpful for them to know Wormtail is back with Voldemort. And, of course, that the Malfoys are definitely Death Eaters, even if the Order knew already.

As Harry watches, Malfoy turns from watching the sorting to say something to the person sitting next to him. As far as Harry can tell, usually Parkinson or Crabbe and Goyle sit next to Malfoy, with the rest of the pureblood group in a loose group around him. Tonight a face Harry barely recognizes has claimed Malfoy's right hand seat instead.

Nico di Angelo, dressed now in school robes and Slytherin colors, nods at whatever Malfoy tells him. Mind turning, Harry stares at the two until the applause dies out. Dumbledore stands from his seat, drawing Malfoy and di Angelo's attention and in turn, Harry's.

"To our new students, including our fifth year transfer Mr. Nico di Angelo — Mr. di Angelo, if you would? — welcome!" Dumbledore nods towards the Slytherin table. Di Angelo stands amongst a sea of craning heads, looking distinctly uncomfortable with being brought to attention. A few people clap for him and he quickly takes his seat once more. "Thank you, Mr. di Angelo. To our old students, welcome back! There is a time and place for speeches, but now is not one. Tuck in!"

Food appears on their plates as Dumbledore sits back down. Harry turns back to his friends and finds Hermione's brows furrowed once more, as Ron loads his plate with gusto.

"I didn't know Hogwarts had transfers," she says. Ron nods, barely looking at her in favor of spooning a large portion of mashed potato into his mouth.

"Loads," he garbles through the mouthful. Hermione glares at him until he sheepishly swallows. "Used to be mostly after the war with You-Know-Who. Bill told me once they were usually homeschooled kids with paranoid parents."

"He said he'd just found out he's a witch," Harry provides absentmindedly, reaching for a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Hermione and Ron both look at him and Harry remembers he hasn't had a chance to tell them about meeting di Angelo on the train. "Er, he was in our compartment. Sitting with Luna. Left before you guys got back."

"Clearly ended up in Malfoy's compartment." Ron mutters. "What'd you think of him, mate?"

"Harry tried to fight him." Neville pipes up. Harry makes a disgruntled noise.

"He was pretending to be asleep to eavesdrop!"

"Harry, honestly," Hermione chastises. Harry gives her a slightly surly look and she shakes her head, clearly deciding to drop the subject. Instead she turns to Nearly Headless Nick; the ghost is watching wistfully as Ron inhales anything he can get his hands on. "Anyway, what were you saying about the hat giving warnings?"

"Hm? Oh, yes yes," Nick seems glad for an excuse to turn from Ron's obvious enjoyment of his food. "The hat had been known to give warnings when the school is in grave danger. As always, its advice is to stand together and stand strong."

"How's it know we're in danger if it's a hat?" Ron asks. Though, his mouth is so full that it comes out near unrecognizable. Harry is actually quite impressed Ron was able to make any noise at all with that much food in his mouth; Hermione is back to glaring, though, and Nearly Headless Nick looks puzzled at best. Ron swallows once more and repeats his question.

"Oh, well I imagine one picks up many things when they reside in the headmaster's office." The ghost muses. "I've really no clue beyond that."

"And it wants us to all be friends?" Harry clarifies. His eyes slide back to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy is clearly bragging about something to his little court of snakes. Di Angelo is just as obviously barely paying attention, instead holding a fork full of food over one of the candles. "Fat chance there."

"That's the kind of attitude it's warning about," Nick says, reproachful, "why, we ghosts may belong to differing houses, but we still maintain friendships!"

Harry nods politely as Nick goes on to boast how he would never argue with the Slytherin house ghost. Ron says something slightly offensive about Nick being scared of the Bloody Baron, stealing the ghost's attention so Harry can work on eating the pie he's pulled onto his plate.

By the time Harry has moved on to his treacle tart, Ron has made both Nearly Headless Nick and Hermione rather cross. They sit in tense silence as Harry eats and vaguely listens to Lavender whining about how it's a shame all the mysterious dark boys end up in Slytherin. He's too used to Ron and Hermione having spats to try and make them make up anyways.

Soon most of the hall is finished eating, golden plates almost clear. Dumbledore stands, bringing the rising volume of the students crashing back down as they await his end of feast speech.

"Now that your bellies are full, I must ask for a bit of your attention, for the usual start of term notices," Dumbledore says. "First years, the forest in the ground is out of bounds to students — though a few of our older students would be wise to listen to this rule as well!"

Despite the previous tension between them, Harry exchanges smirks with Ron and Hermione. Harry is pretty sure not even the twins go into the forest as much as they do, so that is most certainly pointed.

"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you — for what he assures me is the four hundred and twenty-second time — that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes. There is also a comprehensive list of the other things not allowed in the halls, and you can find it in his office." There is a twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he announces this, and Harry is certain he expects absolutely no-one to go read that list.

"We also have two new staff joining us this year. Professor Grubby-Plank will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures; and of course we are delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Mostly uninterested applause starts up for the two teachers. Harry sends Hermione and Ron a slightly alarmed look, as Dumbledore didn't mention how long Grubby-Plank will be teaching.

"And of course," Dumbledore chuckles, "quidditch tryouts will take place on the—"

Dumbledore suddenly looks to Professor Umbridge, cutting himself off. For a moment Harry isn't sure why, but then Umbridge does a little throat clearing noise that really just sounds like she's saying hem, hem, and he realizes she's stood up to give a speech of her own. Harry glanced around and finds his fellow students and teachers are just as confused by her audacity as he is. Dumbledore, though, merely takes his seat and looks at Umbridge as if he is looking forward to whatever she says.

"Well, it's very nice being back at Hogwarts!" Umbridge titters. Her voice has a breathy quality to it, like she's trying to make herself sound younger than she is. "And with such happy faces looking back at me! I look forward to teaching you all and I'm sure we'll all be very good friends!"

Harry doesn't even need to check to know the rest of the hall feels the same way he does; condescended and bewildered. Umbridge doesn't seem to care that her opening words aren't having the desired effect, as she just bulldozes forward after clearing her throat once more.

"The Ministry," she says, the breathy voice she was putting on now replaced with something more business-like, "has always considered the education of young wixen to be of utmost importance. We must nurture the talents in the next generation, lest they be lost to time! Those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching must guard and polish the treasure of magical knowledge, so that the gifts our children are bestowed upon birth do not go to waste!"

Umbridge gives a saccharine smile to her fellow professors and is given nothing in return. McGonagall looks more like a hawk than a cat with the way she's staring Umbridge down.

“Hem, hem. Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new..." Umbridge's speech begins to drag on, the babble drifting into one of Harry's ears and floating out the other. He catches a few phrases, like 'progress for progress' sake' and 'tradition and innovation.' Most of it goes over his head; and everyone else's, by the looks of the rest of the hall. Even Malfoy has checked out, though his new housemate is listening with a frown that matches Hermione's.

Umbridge doesn't seem to notice, or perhaps she simply doesn't care, that only the other professors, Hermione, and di Angelo are still listening to her. Harry is half convinced that Quirrel could show back up from the grave yelling about yet another troll and she would just keep talking.

Harry is watching the enchanted roof when Dumbledore claps, and when he turns he sees that Umbridge is finally finished and has sat down. The staff follow Dumbledore's lead in giving a short round of applause, and there is a smattering of uncoordinated clapping from the students before Dumbledore is standing again.

"Well, that was illuminating," Hermione says lowly as Dumbledore thanks Umbridge and goes on about quidditch tryouts. Harry isn't too concerned about missing this second speech; Angela will tell him if he needs to show up to practice.

"You can't have enjoyed it," Ron responds quietly, the dazed look in his eye still having not cleared. "That was absolutely the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I live with perfect prefect Percy."

"Illuminating, Ron, not enjoyable." Hermione corrects. "It cleared up some things I was wondering about."

"Which are?" Harry questions, surprised. "It sounded like nonsense to me."

"Yes, but there is some information hidden in that nonsense!" Hermione whispers back. Her jaw is set stubbornly, the way it always does when she's building a conspiracy in her head. To be fair, Harry supposes her conspiracies are majorly correct. She's the brightest in their year, after all. "Did you hear her? 'Progress for progress's sake must be discouraged?' How about 'pruning what practices we find to be prohibited?'"

"C'mon, 'Mione," Ron groans impatiently. "We're obviously not getting it, so just tell us what it means!"

"It means," Hermione says grimly, "that the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts."

Notes:

man don't you hate it when the government plants a teacher for fascism purposes technically. Hate that

Anyway not a ton of nico this chapter (sad) but more on him and his sorting next chapter! This chapter was done in like 2 days and has 800 WORDS OVER MY WRITING GOAL. These british people talk too much fr. why can't you guys be like Nico and only have one plot to keep track of smh

Hope you enjoyed :) bye bye now

Chapter 6: Nico Threatens a Hat

Summary:

Nico sorting Nico sorting!!!!!!

Notes:

also guys 😭 the fics not abandoned bls. again, i have unmedicated adhd, a plethora of special interests, and very little energy. Updates are just gonna be slow im sorry lmao

Magic oozes from every stone that makes up Hogwarts.

It drapes over Nico the moment Professor McGonagall leads him through the front gates ahead of everyone else, settling over his shoulders like a blanket. Unlike the magical chaos of Diagon, Hogwarts' magic — for the most part — is cozy. Comforting, in a way. Nico can still sense the death and darkness that lingers underneath, but it is all but overwhelmed by the warmth of the magic. Nico can only think to describe the feeling as loving. Just like his weapons, this school is alive, and it is clearly overjoyed to have students gracing its halls again.  He can't feel any shreds of divinity in the castle so far. It's a big castle though, and Nico will have time to search more thoroughly after he's been sorted into his house. 

Wizards, Nico has found, are frustratingly vague about how Hogwarts sorts their students. He asked multiple people in Diagon once he found out about it, and barely got one man to admit there's a hat involved.  

"Now, we'll do your Sorting in a room off the Great Hall, and then you'll be sent to your table before the first years are Sorted," McGonagall informs Nico, ushering him inside through a giant pair of doors. Nico nods agreeably, but he's really glancing around the equally large hall they've just walked into. The architecture is a mixture of gothic and another style that he's sure Annabeth has told him about before, all arches and dark stone. "I have to go collect the first years, so Professor Dumbledore will be overseeing your Sorting." 

"What exactly is the process?" Nico asks her. She shoots him an appraising look and he returns with a grimace. "I asked around, but people kept telling me it's a surprise. I heard something about a hat." 

"The Sorting Hat belonged to our founders," McGonagall explains. Clearly she doesn't approve of the excessive secrecy, or maybe she's just trying to calm his nerves. Normal students probably care a lot about what house they'll get; Nico doesn't, really, but he appreciates the thought anyhow. "The Headmaster will place it on your head, and it will decide which House you are best suited for." 

"That's all?" Nico asks, skeptical. McGonagall finally slows to a stop next to another great pair of doors, though she leads him to a smaller door off to the side.  

"That's all," she confirms. Nico doesn't have time to ask any more questions —  how does a hat decide what House someone is in, in the first place? — before she is pushing the door open and announcing their presence. "Here is Mr. di Angelo for his Sorting, Albus." 

Nico steps into the doorway, straightening the school robe he pulled on while still on the train. Inside the room, sitting on a blue, fluffy armchair at a decently sized coffee table, is an old man. His robes are a shocking shade of orange, and it takes Nico a moment to rip his eyes away from them to meet Albus Dumbledore's gaze. With a long white beard and half circle glasses, the man resembles Rip Van Winkle, or someone's goofy great grandfather. There's a pleased sparkle in his eye and a smile on his face as he waves Nico over. 

"Wonderful, thank you, Minerva! Don't let us keep you, hm?" Dumbledore says. McGonagall nods sharply and gives Nico one last look before stepping away. "Come in, my boy. Let's get you sorted, shall we?" 

The Headmaster sounds like someone's grandfather too, but Nico still hesitates on the threshold.  

For some reason, the face of Minos flashes across his mind's eye. Nico hasn't seen the old ghost since he banished him to the underworld years ago for trying to manipulate him. Other than having a white beard, Dumbledore hardly even resembles the ghost. He doesn't know why Minos has popped up in his thoughts. 

Dumbledore keeps smiling at him. Nico shakes Minos from his mind and steps into the room, crossing to sit on the couch across from Dumbledore. On the table between them sits an old, worn witches' hat — the Sorting Hat, no doubt.  

"It's good to meet you, Nico." Dumbledore says once Nico is seated. He gazes over the rim of his glasses at Nico, gaze warm. "Very exciting to have a transfer student again. We haven't had one in a good few years. Did Professor McGonagall explain the Sorting to you?" 

"Yes, sir." Nico confirms. He doesn't say that he still doesn't really understand how the hat in front of them is capable of anything but being eaten by moths. It doesn't really matter at this point. He just needs to be Sorted into the right house so he can look for the Cloak. "Do I just...?" 

"Yes, yes, just pop it on," Dumbledore says encouragingly. He leans back in his chair and continues to smile. Nico gives the hat a last wary look before sliding a hand under the rim of it and lifting it off the table. It's just big enough to fit snugly on his head, sliding down just a bit before coming to a rest. He waits for a moment for anything to happen, and then nearly jumps out of his seat when the hat speaks in his mind.

'It's been a while since I sorted a demigod,' the hat muses. Nico just barely stops himself from doing something suspicious, like ripping the hat off or pulling out his sword to stab the thing with. 'Oh, please don't stab me. I'm getting enough holes from old age as it is, you know.'

"No one said anything about it being in my head," Nico tells Dumbledore through slightly gritted teeth. The Headmaster flashes him a slightly pitying look — how many of those is Nico going to get during this quest?  

"I'm sorry, my boy. It'll be over soon." Dumbledore assures. Nico scowls but doesn't say anything else. He can't exactly refuse to be Sorted just because he doesn't like having a piece of clothing in his brain. 

I just need to be put into Slytherin. The house that boasts the most Dark magical families is his best bet for finding a Cloak gifted by Death itself, surely. Nico has gotten a few books about the old families who might have the Cloak, and most of them are in the snake house. 

'Slytherin?' The hat repeats. It sounds slightly scornful, somehow. 'No, no. You're much more suited for Hufflepuff. You have qualities of Gryffindor as well, but... No, you belong with the Badgers, that is clear.'

Nico frowns. Is the hat really going to ruin his plans? He's not that kind, though he supposes he has a sort of loyalty, which is what Hufflepuffs are famous for. Nico hasn't even considered that he can be assigned something other than Slytherin. With his father and affinity for the darkness, he thought he'd be a shoo in.  

'I sort based on a child's merits, not their father's.' The hat chides. 'Slytherin, no offense to you, is a house of cunning and ambition. No, it'd better be —' 

Nico hears a rustle of fabric above him. Dumbledore perks in his seat, leaning forward in expectation. Wait, is the hat about to assign him to Hufflepuff anyways? Seriously? 

If you don't put me in Slytherin, I will introduce you to some greek fire. Nico thinks at the hat. It pauses, and Nico makes himself remember the various times he's seen and dealt with greek fire, just to make his point clear. There's a lake of the stuff somewhere in the underworld, and Nico's seen souls wander into it. It's never pretty. After a moment of that train of thought, the hat settles back down on his head; Dumbledore follows suit in his seat, looking intrigued. 

'...that is a very serious threat, son of Hades.' It says solemnly.  

I need to be in Slytherin. Nico tells it again. It sighs, audibly, which makes Dumbledore's eyebrows pop up.  

'I supposed threatening me requires a certain amount of cunning,' admits the hat, though it sounds aggravated to say it at all. 'Very well. It will be - SLYTHERIN!" 

The last bit is called out to both him and Dumbledore. Nico's tie suddenly changes to green and silver, glittering on his chest. The Headmaster claps politely, smiling once more. Nico notices that the sparkle in his eye has dimmed, though. He knows there's a bias against the snake house, but is it really so prevalent that the Headmaster of the school buys into it?  

"Very good, Nico," Dumbledore congratulates. He stands a moment later, prompting Nico to do the same. He pulls the hat off of his head, finally, with one last pointed memory of green fire, and hands it to the Headmaster. "Slytherin will be glad to have you. I believe your prefect will be waiting for you outside this room, so unfortunately we must part!" 

Dumbledore stands, and Nico follows suit. He extends a hand to Nico, sporting a grandfatherly smile. Maybe it's the memory of Minos or the fact that Nico's actual grandfather is Kronos, but something about it makes him hesitate for a moment before he takes it.  

"Hogwarts is happy to have you, my boy." Dumbledore says as they shake hands.  "I'm sure you'll do great things, Mr. di Angelo."  

"Happy to be here," Nico replies, though he's not entirely sure if that's true. Dumbledore's eye sparkles again like he's aware of this, but thankfully doesn't say anything on the subject.  

Someone knocks at the door, and Nico is quietly relieved that Dumbledore releases his hand at the noise.  

"That will be young Draco, I suspect!" Dumbledore laughs. He steps away from Nico, scooping the Sorting Hat off the table where Nico left it, and heads for a door in the back of the room. Nico has barely a moment to register that the door hadn't been there before, as Dumbledore is opening it and stepping through. The headmaster's words echo over his shoulder as he leaves. "Enjoy the feast, Nico!"

Notes:

Grabs you. comment and talk to me in the comments and maybe I'll remember this fic exists to work on more often mayhaps lol