Dark Phoenix (Nico Di Angelo & Harry Potter)

6

Something in Nico's head screamed abort abort abort the second he stepped into the courtroom, a wide expanse of seats upon seats, only visible by the light of dull yellow flickering flames from the torches afixed onto the cold stone walls by iron brackets

And the ceiling - there was no ceiling. The room continued above his head till it was too dark to make out if it ended at all.

And in the back of his mind, Funeral March was playing, a slow thrum to match the pace of the day that had somehow warped with time into infinity.

A lot like the ceiling. The no-ceiling.

I'm a mess.

Cold sweat clung onto Nico's back as heart began its erratic dance once more.

He was feeling whatever Harry Potter was. This was going to be a common occurrence then.

And it was the nasty sense of deja vu that Nico couldn't shake off.

The figures shrouded in the shadows sat close together in the lowest set of seats, and Nico could've sworn he saw a glimpse of wild dark curls, very much like Sirius's to his right. His head darted to that direction, expecting a shrill laugh and piercing eyes, but instead, the centre of the podium was taken up by an empty stone seat that had iron wrung chains by the arm rests and floor.

How festive.

The figures shifted in their seats, mumbling something amongst themselves as if Nico couldn't hear them throw Potter around more than once.

When he turned to face them, an ominous silence followed.

Then a cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

"You're late."

Astute observation Nico wanted to point out, but the moment was gone when the man took away his only excuse.

"An owl was sent to you this morning and you have failed to notify us with your receipt. Take your seat."

And the only seat was the one covered in chains. Nico made his way across the room, his gaze never leaving the source of the voice in front of him.

Oh, how he hoped Harry was a mannerless asshole while he still occupied this body - it would've made Nico's journey here far more enjoyable if he knew he could walk around unhinged. Ah, but while there had to be an outlet for his fury, a courtroom was never the place, no matter how uncivilised it felt to be under scrutiny by people who felt like the law was somehow above itself.

He could make about fifty people in the audience, all donning purple robes with an intricately woven silver W on the left breastpocket.

The echoing of his footsteps didn't seem to quell his (- Harry Potter's) fear, rather it encouraged it to reach alarmingly inconvenient levels. Nico didn't notice that he was chewing his own tongue until the acrid taste of blood was kissing him back.

Nico took the seat carefully, expecting to have someone come up and bind him, but instead the chains clinked threateningly by his side and remained in place.

Ah, he had forgotten that this was a world of magic. No one did work anymore.

The audience - the jury if he was being polite - eyed him distastefully, as if he had nicked a chain rather than saved his and his cousin's life from the Ministry itself.

Maybe he should've nicked a chain to give himself a reason to receive those stares. Didn't feel worth his effort to put up a farce otherwise.

It wasn't all gloom, however. Some of the members gave him wide eyed looks of curiosity, and Nico didn't sense any hostility coming from them.