Chaos Rising |BOOK 2| Harry Potter x PJO |Alexandra Marine|

NICO DI ANGELO

"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"

His cheek earned him a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and he was still wincing as we stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. I wrapped my scarf over my lower face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. 

I had to literally wrap myself around Will to even be able to feel him near me.

The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. 

Ron pointed, with a thickly gloved hand, toward Honeydukes, which was mercifully open, and we staggered in his wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God," shivered Ron as we were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."

"Good suggestion!" Jason said, rubbing his palms to make them warm.

I still hadn't had time to tell Jason and Percy about the dream I had about Tartarus. We had to find time, which was rare these days. We spent all of it making plans to neutralize threats that Tony pointed us to, and of course, homework and extra credit classes. And Slug Club meeting, those things were killing me. Snape was particularly bitter about teaching DADA to me for extra credit, even though I did just as well as Percy did.

"Harry, m'boy!" said a booming voice from behind us.

I wanted to melt away into the shadows at once.

"Oh no," muttered Harry. We turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and an overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystalized pineapple, and occupying at least a quarter of the shop.

"Harry, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said Slughorn, poking him genially in the chest. "It won't do, m'boy, I'm determined to have you! Miss Granger loves them, and so do Mister Di Angelo, Chase, Solace and Jackson, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah," we nodded our heads together.

"Yes," confirmed Hermione one last time rather helplessly, "they're really --"

"So why don't you come along, Harry? And Grace- I expect to see you next time!" demanded Slughorn.

"Well, I've had Quidditch practice, Professor," said Harry, who had indeed been scheduling practices every time Slughorn had sent him a little, violet ribbon-adorned invitation. 

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all the hard work!" said Slughorn. "But a little recreation never hurt any body. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather...."

"I can't, Professor, I've got -- er--an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening."

"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah, well... you can't evade me forever, Harry! Grace- Monday night."

"It would be a pleasure sir," Jason said, his eyes screaming 'HELP'.

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

"Harry, please schedule a practice for Gryffindor," Jason turned to Harry at once.

"Seriously got an appointment with Dumbledore, mate," said Harry, putting his hands up. "Sorry."

Jason groaned.

"I can't believe you've wriggled out of another one," said Hermione, shaking her head. "They're not that bad, you know... they're even quite fun sometimes..." But then she caught sight of Ron's expression. "Oh, look--they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills--those would last hours!"

"Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," said Harry. "It'll be warm."

We bundled scarves back over our faces and left the sweetshop. The bitter wind was like knives on my faces after the sugary warmth of Honeydukes. The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. The exceptions were two men a little ahead of us, standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin; squinting through his rain-washed glasses. I recognized the barman who worked in the other Hogsmeade pub, the Hog's Head. As we drew closer, the barman drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. 

"Mundungus!" Percy recalled at once.

The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"Oh, 'ello, Percy," said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya."

And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Harry, watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus. "Gimme that!"

Ron had stooped down and picked up something silver.

"Hang on," Ron said slowly. "This looks familiar --"

"Wait," Percy called, looking at the silver spoons. His tan face turned red.

"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron's hand and the spoon out of Percy's and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you all--OUCH!"

Percy had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Harry was holding out a wand threateningly at Mundungus.

"Percy- Harry!" squealed Hermione.

"You took that from Sirius' house," said Harry. "That had the Black family crest on it."

"I--no--what--?" spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple.

"Percy-" Jason started. "You realize-"

But Percy wasn't listening. "Did you go and strip the place, you thief?" he asked. "Just because we don't live there?"

"I--no--"

"I'll take your suitcase and stuff it down your own throat if you don't put it back where it belongs by tonight," Percy snarled.

"Percy, you mustn't!" shrieked Hermione, as Mundungus started to turn blue.

There was a bang, and Percy's hands flew off Mundungus's throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized his fallen case, then--CRACK-- he Disapparated.

Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone.

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING -- !"

"There's no point, Percy." Tonks had appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair wet with sleet.

"Mundungus will probably be in London by now. There's no point yelling."

"He's nicked Sirius's stuff! Nicked it!" Harry said.

"Yes, but still," said Tonks, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this piece of information. "You should get out of the cold."

She watched us go through the door of the Three Broomsticks. The moment he was inside, Harry burst out, "He was nicking Sirius's stuff!"

"I know, Harry, but please don't shout, people are staring," whispered Hermione. "Go and sit down, I'll get you a drink."

Harry was still fuming when Hermione returned to their table a few minutes later holding bottles of Butterbeer.

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