Rising From Shadowed Ashes

GreenCrystal19

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Heroes of Olympus; they belong to respective authors; J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan. Cover art by Viktoria Ridzel (Viria/viria13/vika) as usual. Her art is amazing; she is now the official portrait artist.

Author's Notes: To describe the last chapter in two words: well then. Have fun with this one! Nico gets in sooooooo much trouble!

Chapter 13: A Poisoned Trail

Nico's PoV

Nico woke up because he was cold. Freezing, in fact. His entire body ached; and as Nico's vision returned to him, he saw that he was lying on a cold, stone bench-like structure. He sat up, stood. He was in a small stone cube of a room. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of the same smooth, black tiles. The only exit was a sturdy metal door with a small barred window. Great.

Nico glanced down at his hands. They were bound with metal manacles—like thick, heavy bracelets—that connected to two chains on the floor. Sadly, Nico didn't have the key.

Also sad: his ring stubbornly refused to return to him. Nico could sense that it was nearby, but some magic was keeping it from returning to him. Great. No weapon, no escape route. Nico tried shadow-traveling. Maybe that would work.

Dissolving into the darkness, Nico found that, no, it did not work. Usually, when Nico shadow-traveled, it was like he was rushing through network of dark corridors—like a venti, a storm spirit, might feel navigating the winds. But now, Nico was confined to a small cubical of darkness that he sensed was the exact dimensions of the room he was in. And there wasn't much point shadow-traveling randomly around the room; Nico could already sense that the handcuffs would stick to him. Great.

Returning to solid form, Nico thought again. Maybe he could use his powers to pick the lock, or bust down the door. He tried summoning a shadow. A little wisp of darkness appeared. Good! But when Nico tried to will it to pick the lock, it stubbornly refused. The same happened with bones—Nico wasn't able to summon anything, or do anything, that could possibly help him escape. His Underworld magic was completely useless here, it seemed. Nico looked around again. "Well, it's better than a bronze jar," he muttered. "At least I can breath."

Plunking down on the stone bunch, which wasn't tiled, just a simple black slab, Nico proceeded to stare expectantly at the door. He knew that when his eventual doom came for him, it would enter through that door.

He was right! Oh, goody.

Of course, Nico, being ADHD, had since gotten bored with the current setup. When Kingsley Shacklebolt entered, he found Nico reclining in a hammock woven from shadows he'd attached to the ceiling. Nico himself was throwing darts made from bone at a dartboard made from pure darkness. A little skeletal mouse was skittering around on the floor. It cowered in a corner as Shacklebolt observed it critically.

Nico looked up. "Hi." He threw another dart at the dartboard. "Took you long enough. Heyyy, I scored a bullseye!"

Shacklebolt seemed rather taken aback. "We specifically enchanted this room to suppress the magic of Dark wizards. How, exactly, have you managed..." he waved his hand at the dartboard— "all of this?"

Nico smiled without humor. "I'm special that way." He scored another bull's eye. "So...what about the trial?"

Nico was secretly very worried about that, though he figured he was doing a pretty good gob at hiding it.

"I have come to take you there now," Shacklebolt said. "The Minister and the Wizengamot will decide your fate. Oh, and one little thing..." The Auror paused, real concern briefly flashing across his face. "We must pass the Azkaban guards on our way out to the courtroom. I thought it wise to warm you."

Nico's act kind of dissolved after that. He simply nodded, and willed all of his additions to the cell to disappear. Shacklebolt seemed pleased at that. Nico didn't think the Auror liked the idea of prisoners playing with darts instead of solemnly waiting for their trial. Shacklebolt led Nico out of the cell, though the Auror didn't remove Nico's shackles or lower his wand.

Nico worked up the courage to ask a question: "Please, what exactly is this place?" He waved his hand, indicating the circular tunnels, also made of black tile, and one of two gilded gates up ahead, where two tall, dark figures stood guard. Dementors.

"The Ministry Detention Area," Shacklebolt said shortly. "Where suspected prisoners are kept before trial if necessary, and where convicted criminals wait to be transported to Azkaban."

"That's not, um, likely to happen to me, is it? Because, you know, I like to consider myself a generally decent person. Or maybe, not a threat to the entire world. Perhaps firmly on the side of the not-so-murderous?"

"That is not for me to decide."

So, Nico thought, Kingsley Shacklebolt isn't one to answer many questions. Noted.

They passed through one of the gilded gates, Nico managing to not make a fool out of himself near the dementors, and proceeded to walk through the dungeons to "Courtroom Ten."

When the walked in, Nico's courage deserted him, if only for a moment. It was a large, square room made from dark stone—untiled, this time. The room was lit by torches that didn't give off any bothersome smoke, and held enough benches rising up from the floor to hold around two hundred people. Nico was reminded, uncomfortably, of an arena.

In the center of the room was a dark, foreboding chair. The chair had armrests (whee!) that were covered in chains. Nico didn't think the armrests were so nice after he saw that. On the opposite side of the room was another door—Nico knew that this one would lead to the rest of the Ministry of Magic's headquarters. To freedom. Sadly, most of the Wizengamot and one crazy trial stood in Nico's way. Steeling his resolve, the son of Hades walked to the chair and sat down to begin his trial.

Nico's PoV

Nico's original chains had disappeared, which would've been nice, except for the fact that the chains on the chair, after indecisively rattling for a moment, bound Nico yet again. That wasn't very high on Nico's list of worries, however: the entire Wizengamot, plus the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, were staring down at him.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken his place among the Wizengamot to watch, leaving Nico the only one on the vast, empty floor under the benches. This would be a trial everyone wanted to miss—especially Nico.

Cornelius cleared his throat and began speaking, relying heavily, Nico noticed, on the roll of parchment in front of him. Another wizard was armed with a quill and even more parchment, ready to dutifully write down everything that occured during the trial.

Cornelius, however, wasn't used to such odd suspects as Nico: "...offenses include using Dark magic, specifically Necromancy and Umbrakinesis, by so-called Nico di Angelo, resident at..." Here he stumbled. "—resident of...New York, America. Interrogaters: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic and Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Nico thought that was quite a mouthful. Already, skeletal butterflies were doing flips in Nico's stomach; his hands felt cold and clammy...even more so than usual. But the Minister of Magic was just getting started.

"Charges against the accused: that he carries a Dark artifact—a weapon, no less—performed Necromancy and Umbrakinesis multiple times, and attempted to harm another wizard with this Dark magic."

The Minister stared down his nose at Nico. "You are Nico di Angelo?"

"No, I'm Bob," Nico said, exasperated. "Of course I'm Nico! Now, please, get on with the trial."

There were many glaring wizards.

"You performed Dark magic, despite that fact that the Ministry highly disapproves of the use of any of the Dark arts and has prohibited Necromancy and Umbrakinesis?"

Nico hesitated. Technically, it hadn't been magic. Not their magic, anyways. "Yes and no," he said.

Fudge blinked. His face darkened a couple shades. "What?"

"Well, you see, maybe I did. But I didn't use a wand, or any or your spells, soooo..."

There was a long pause. Then, Amelia Susan Bones brought the trial back on course. "But you practiced the Dark arts that the Minister specified?"

Nico looked her in the eye. If he was going down, he wanted to go down fighting, not pleading to some idiots waving wands around and talking about their wizarding laws. "Yes," he said quietly.

Many of the members of the Wizengamot gasped quietly; Nico could tell it was unheard of for someone as young as thirteen to be practicing the Dark arts. Nico could tell this wasn't going in his favor. He wondered if his shadow magic would work now. The chains rattled again, curling tighter around Nico's arms. So, no then.

"Nico di Angelo, I declare you—"

"WAIT!"

Nico's head shot up as two people ran into the room, panting. Hazel Levesque and Will Solace.

Nico buried his head in his hands. Why were they so stupid?

Will leaned against the wall, clutching his side. "It—wasn't—Nico's—fault," he said between gasps.

Nico could feel everyone in the room look at them, and then at him. Lifting his head, Nico glared at the two other demigods and said: "You had to come here. I told you I'd be fine."

"Sentenced to a wizard prison is not fine," Will said.

Meanwhile, the wizards had recovered from their initial shock. "Who are you? " Fudge asked.

Hazel repeated what Will had said. "You're making a mistake." She snapped her fingers, and Nico could feel the Mist curling around the room. Members of the Wizengamot glanced at each other, suddenly unsure. "Nico isn't breaking your laws."

A long pause. And then. "We don't know who you are, or what you want." It was Amelia Bones again. "Do not interfere. Once the trial is over, we will deal with you."

Will looked like he wanted to protest, but Hazel put a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. It won't help, the gesture seemed to say.

And then yet another person came into the room: the person Nico least expected to help. Albus Dumbledore strode onto the floor of the courtroom.

"Actually, these two are correct." Dumbledore smiled a thin smile. "Nico is not breaking your laws. In fact, if I remember correctly, Cornelius, he was under my protection at Hogwarts."

If Fudge could've looked angrier, he did. "He has left Hogwarts," the Minister said, "and he will not be returning."

"A friendly reminder, Cornelius: the Minister of Magic does not have the power to expell students from my school."

Fudge opened his mouth, but Dumbledore was on a roll.

"We agreed that Mr. di Angelo have a year to prove that he is not a threat to the wizarding world, or to Harry Potter. I believe that year is not yet over."

Fudge narrowed his eyes. "I never agreed to that."

The members of the Wizengamot were looking back and forth from Dumbledore to Fudge like it was a very intense ball game. Nico was forgotten, for now—which he was fine with.

"It is only fair," Dumble responded calmly. "Be reasonable, Cornelius."

The entire room seemed to hold it's breath, Nico included. The son of Hades knew that if Cornelius continued the trial, he would look unstable—like a paranoid fool. But if he backed out, he would still look like a fool. It was a close bargain, one Nico didn't want to be a part of. Then he noticed Hazel—from the faraway look in her eyes, she was still manipulating the mist. Which meant that—

"Fine. We will postpone the trial until the end of term. But once that time is over—" The Minister glared at Nico. "—everything will be as it should be. You will be returning to this courtroom, di Angelo. No excuses."

Nico's PoV

Freedom came at a cost.

To enlist Dumbledore's help, Hazel and Will had told him Nico's story. The whole story.

Everything about the demigods, and the wars, and Tartarus. Even about Camp Half-Blood and Nico's parentage.

At first, Dumbledore hadn't believed them. That's why he'd been late. But after a few minutes of piecing together the facts, and the events that had occured at Hogwarts, Dumbledore decided that their story, or at least, parts of it, were legitimate. After hearing Nico's firsthand account, it was decided: Dumbledore would do his best to help Nico get back to where he belonged—whatever it took.

Nico, he said, should simply focus on his schoolwork and relax for a while. But Nico didn't plan on that: there was still the matter of Sirius and Peter...which might, after all, be exactly what Nico needed...

Harry's PoV

Harry nearly had a heart attack when Nico walked into the dormitory, late in the evening.

Before Harry could ask a single question, Nico interrupted him: "Okay, I narrowly escaped Azkaban, fought two Aurors, was the subject of one Wizengamot trial, and sold half of my soul in the form of secrets to your Headmaster. In short: I am tired. Let me sleep."

Before Nico could dive into the relative safety of his bunk, Harry grabbed his arm and asked: "Hang on: what?"

Nico jumped a little, tugging his arm free. "It's a long story. Something about performing the Dark arts, blah blah blah, et cetera. Now, if you don't mind..."

"What do you mean about telling Dumbledore secrets and stuff?"

"Uhhh..." Nico fidgeted with the hair on the back of his head, looking extremely uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. "Nootttthhiinnngggg?"

Harry stared at him. "Merlin's beard, where have you been?" Nico was at least two inches taller, and his complexion had darkened from walking-corpse state to a very pale olive skin-tone. His hair had grown out even longer and messier, if that was possible, and that sort of melancholy, old aura Nico had had was all but gone.

Nico looked confused. "What, did someone dye my hair yellow without me noticing? I don't think Will would do that, but—"

"No, I mean, you're like, taller, and you don't look..." Harry trailed off.

"What?" Nico demanded.

"Uh...you don't look like a walking corpse as much..."

Nico stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he laughed—Nico di Angelo, performer of the Dark arts, laughed. "I've forgotten how rude you are without noticing. Keep at it, Potter: it is very amusing."

Harry realized Nico had changed in more ways than one: he seemed happier, but also like he was waiting for something bad to happen—like he was pulling together everything he had, enjoying the last moments of life as much as possible. There was an underlying tension—a grim expectation of the worst to come.

Something had happened to Nico while he was gone. Something bad was coming.

And Harry wasn't sure he liked it. He wasn't sure he liked it at all.

"What is it?" Nico asked. "You're looking at me as though I just sprouted wings or something."

"Nothing. It's...it's nothing."

Harry's PoV

Harry approached Nico after classes the next day, in the evening. "Di Angelo. Lupin's having our first dementor-fighting lesson this evening. You coming?"

Nico shoved the last of his dinner in his mouth. "Yeah. And, Harry? About earlier, before break..."

Harry paused, a mixture of fear, hope , anticipation, and anger rolling through him. "Yes?"

Nico met his eyes, his dark gaze steady. "I want you to know I am telling the truth. Sirius Black is innocent—and so am I."

Harry left quickly so he wouldn't lose control and punch di Angelo in the eye.

Nico's PoV

Turns out, Professor Lupin's brilliant plan to get a dementor in the school was something like: S!

So, naturally, Nico already hated the class. It got awkward very quickly from there.

"Er, Nico...yes. You're boggart is different from Harry's, of course—why don't you..."

Lupin trailed off. It wasn't like there was a dementor lying around somewhere for Nico to use.

"We'll start with practicing the charm first. The boggart will come later."

Nice save there, Nico thought.

The charm, apparently, was called the "Patronum Charm." The incantation? Expecto patronum.

But it wasn't just an incantation: you needed to think of the happiest moments of your life, something pure enough to distract a dementor from sucking your soul out of you.

Oh, right: there was something called the Dementor's Kiss. According to Lupin, you could live without your soul: an empty container, a shadow of who you once were.

"Hang on," Nico asked, torn between horror and fury. "You let those things eat people's souls? That's a thing around here? Don't you realize that you're letting prisoners escape punishment?"

Both Harry and Lupin looked superbly confused. "...What punishment are you referring to, Nico?" Lupin asked cautiously.

If Nico had been thinking straight, he would have shut his mouth. But of course, he wasn't thinking straight. The Underworld was about justice. His father personally ensured that souls were judged fairly (or at least, assigned some judges to do it for him) and Hades did not approve of souls escaping either punishment or reward. So to hear about this Dementor's Kiss certainly put a link in Nico's toga. (Metaphorically speaking...of course.)

"What punishment?" Nico asked. "Hmm...eternal damnation, perhaps? There's no need for this Dementor's Kiss. How can you wizards talk about justice and law when you have creatures as evil as that enforcing those laws? How can you subject people to getting their souls destroyed, without any real proof?"

Lupin and Harry stared at him, dumbstruck.

"If that's what you do here, I'm not taking any part of it."

And so Nico stormed angrily out of the room to do his History of Magic report, wondering how Sirius (and himself) would fare if Nico failed.

And more than that: how could Nico watch as Pettigrew, evil as he was, received that punishment? There had to be a way out that didn't involve dementors, or the wizards' poisoned Ministry of Magic. But what?

Author's Notes: So in Percy Jackson, it was shadow travel. But in Heroes of Olympus, it was shadow-travel. Which do you use?