The Coming of Nico di Angelo

This Is Why Teaming Up with Malfoy Is a TERRIBLE IDEA

CHAPTER SUMMARY

The demigods and wizards all deal with the aftermath of Nico's vision and summoning of the dead.

BEGINNING NOTES

Chapter Rating: Mature
Content Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence
Word Count: 5376

If it wasn't already clear, Blaise Zabini and Hestia Carrow, while they have names from actual characters from the Harry Potter series, aren't supposed to be written in character. Like, at all. I basically chose two blank-slate Slytherins to incorporate into my plot. This is more of an issue with Blaise than Hestia, since Hestia was a movie-only character with (I think) no lines. Point is, I know they're written out of character, they're supposed to be.

And all the characters are owned by J.K. Rowling, or Rick Riordan.

____________________PERCY____________________

When Percy got to Nico, dead bodies surrounded him completely. Each body looked healthy enough, but their ashen skin made it pretty obvious they were dead. Either that, or they were zombies. And something told Percy that Nico's reaction wasn't because he disliked The Walking Dead.

Percy couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Nico cry like this. Even the ten-year-old who'd lost his sister had maintained a sliver of composure. Well, not exactly composure, but he, at least, seemed aware of where he was and who surrounded him. This Nico looked like he was back in Tartarus.

Even though Nico had been fine just minutes ago, he already looked like he'd been through hell and back. He held a body in his arms--with a jolt, Percy realized it was Hazel's--and screamed. Percy couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, being too far away, but he got a general idea.

Nico's hair was beyond messy, like he'd run his hands through it a million times. There was mud all over his robes, especially by the knees, where he was kneeling in the dirt. His olive skin, though it always had that pale hue, looked downright vampirish. Tears poured from an endless river down his face, leaving noticeable tracks on his cheeks. He looked like a POW, one who'd just escaped to find all his brothers-in-arms dead. He looked like he'd been standing in that sea of corpses for days, instead of seconds.

Percy, who'd been staring at Nico in shock, got ahold of himself. He took a step forward, but that was as far as he got. Nico, his arms still holding his half-sister, snapped his head up. He searched for something for half a second, then stared into the distance, like he found it. Percy turned to look, but nothing was there. Was Nico... hallucinating?

When the son of Hades spoke again, Percy didn't have to know what he was saying. He screamed in anguish, louder than the River Cocytus. As he screamed, the ground in front of him cracked open, creating a jagged crack in the earth. Percy knew that fissure--it still existed in Camp Half-Blood's dining pavilion. Instead of swallowing skeletal warriors, like it had years ago, it did the opposite. At least half a dozen skeletons, straight from Hades, climbed out. Without a child of the Underworld to give them orders, they started attacking. They didn't fix their eyes on Nico, or even Percy. Instead of attacking someone who could fight back, they marched straight for the defenseless followers of Hecate.

"Nico, stop!" Percy cried, but he got the feeling that Nico couldn't hear a word he said. Traumatized, the son of Hades had stopped talking altogether. Instead, he chose to curl up in fetal position, among the wasteland of corpses. His broken gaze was still fixed on the distant horizon, unmoving and unblinking. Nico had given up; he was ready for Thanatos to take his soul.