I am not dead yet

I can dance and I can sing

I am not dead yet

I can do the Highland Fling

I am not dead yet

No need to go to bed

No need to call the doctor

Cause I'm not yet dead.

How to Train Your Marching Band

Chapter Twenty: Bad Blood

Draconology was Hiccup's easy class. He had told himself, when they were picking classes last year, that he needed at least one class where he didn't have to think very hard. Band didn't count. It was more of an experience than a class.

He had been neck-deep in dragon lore and facts practically from the moment he'd been born. Dragon hunters for parents and an extended family that had made their livelihood around the industry, growing up in a college town boasting one of the best Draconology programs this side of the Mississippi. He would have been a disgrace to the family if his head hadn't been full of dragons.

He knew the material cold. With any luck, the class would be a breeze.

Since it was an AP class, it was open only to the seniors with a three point five GPA or better, and juniors if they were recommended. Other than two or three unfamiliar faces, the rest were Hiccup's classmates. He wasn't particularly friends with any of them and honestly he couldn't figure out why some of them were even there. Like Matt, who had once yanked down his own pants to prove he had a penis. Loud-mouthed Jackie who personified "dumb blonde" and possessed the intelligence of pocket lint. And creepy Sara, who was just plain obsessed with dragons to the point of being unhealthy. Not the good kind of unhealthy obsession that was about devoting one's life to the study of dragons, but instead the obsession where Sara believed she was actually a dragon.

Well, it's the first day back. They might drop out. Hiccup consoled himself, moving towards the back of the classroom. It's definitely not one of the easier classes, I've heard.

Half of Draconology was about successful identification and that wasn't easy in the world of dragons. Timberjacks and Typhoomerangs were easily mistaken for one another. Most people didn't know the color difference between Puff Nadders and Deadly Nadders (something that should have been ridiculously easy; Deadly Nadders were on the darker end of the color scale and Puff Nadders were very brightly colored). The Toxic Nightshade and the Skrill had a similar body type to the Night Fury, leading to many cases of misidentification even among professionals.

Hiccup didn't have a problem with identification, but he'd also been soaking in the knowledge from the moment he'd been able to understand speech.

There was only one other person sitting in the back row and for a moment, Hiccup hesitated when he saw that it was Elsa Winters. She made him nervous, in the sense that he worried about accidentally offending her. No one actually knew Elsa. She didn't really talk to people - conversations with her were akin to pulling teeth from a grizzly bear - or leave the house if she didn't have to. Even Rapunzel, her own cousin who lived in the same house and had the bedroom just across the hall, didn't know the reclusive eighteen-year old very well. Anna would tell anyone that her big sister was actually super-nice, but Elsa just didn't do people or healthy socialization.

Hiccup cleared his throat. "Hi, Elsa."

Elsa looked up in apparent shock that someone was actually speaking to her, dark blue eyes widening in what Hiccup hoped wasn't fear. There really wasn't anything intimidating about his hundred-something five-foot-four frame with all its freckles and knobbly points.

"Can I sit?" Hiccup asked, gesturing to the empty desk beside her.

Her pale cheeks colored vaguely pink and she stared at the surface of her desk. A wisp of pale gold hair slipped loose from the bun and past her ear.

"You don't have to ask." she mumbled around what sounded like her own tongue.

"It's always polite to ask. I like to think my mother would have raised a gentleman." Hiccup said, shrugging. "So, can I sit?"

Elsa nodded, pushing the loose lock of hair behind her ear.

Hiccup put his binder down on the desk and slid into the seat, trying to look more casual about it than he felt. He had the terrible feeling that he was sitting next to something annoyed and poisonous that would sink fangs into his thigh if he blinked wrong.

For a brief second, he considered moving.

But Elsa was the lesser of three evils. The fourth period class was small, totaling to maybe a dozen people. Half were the obnoxious overachievers going for the gold and they would probably get annoyed if Hiccup so much as hinted that he knew more about the subject than they did. The other half were too dumb to live (just book-smart enough to achieve the required GPA for the class) and they would get annoyed if he so much as hinted that he knew more about the subject than they did.

He could put up with Elsa's unsociable cold-shoulder better than he could his classmates' sneering. Elsa didn't deliberately antagonize. That made her the better choice by far.

Elsa was tall and pale, but on the account of genetics rather than partial albinism like Jack, though Hiccup couldn't figure out how that had worked out, as both her parents were brunettes. She possessed a rather regal, if frosty, bearing that gave one the impression she had been born in the wrong century. If she was a little more confident, she could have passed off the royal demeanor of a queen. She could be stately and elegant, when she chose to do away with the ill-fitting jeans and oversized hoodies. A rare occurrence, for sure. There was a picture on their fireplace mantle showing Elsa in a lovely blue dress, from the last time she had been invited to attend a Glockenblume International function.

"Did you have a good summer, Elsa?" Hiccup asked, mostly to fill the silence between them. The bell had just rung for fourth period, but the teacher hadn't arrived yet.

"Y-Yes." Elsa nodded, biting her lip. "Did you?"

Hiccup shrugged. "It was okay. I barely saw you at Rapunzel's birthday." he said, unable to help a small frown. Anna had managed to drag her sister all the way into the dining room for cake and ice cream, but as soon as the portions had been dished out, the older girl had hurried back to her room.

"Oh..." Elsa fidgeted with her pencil. "I was, um... Well..."

She trailed off and stared at her desk some more, as though hoping the complete lack of eye contact would make him ignore the fact she hadn't answered whatsoever. Hiccup let it go. He had seen the avoiding-conversation tactics before and knew better than to start pushing.

Another minute passed without the teacher's arrival and the class started to get restless. Frowning, Hiccup looked back at his schedule. The teachers' names were listed alongside the classes, but the fourth period slot was empty.

It didn't surprise him, not really. The school changed Draconology teachers every one or two years. The job was regarded one of two ways. The first way was positive; a stepping stone on the career path for aspiring young Draconologists who were at that multi-limbed fork in the road and hadn't yet decided exactly what they were going to do with themselves. They were rarely in the position for more than a year.

Last year's teacher had been one such young person and she had departed at the end of the year. Fresh off her apprenticeship, several options open to her and yet undecided, and positively in awe of Hiccup's very existence. Stoic Haddock was a prominent fixture in the regional community. Like that celebrity you idolized and were always too intimidated to meet.

The other way was considered punishment for Hunters who had screwed up just badly enough that something needed to be done, but not so badly they were expelled from the Guild. Shuffled into a teaching position so they could cool their heels and refresh their memories on dragons and proper procedures. It was a light punishment, truth be told, but some took it very badly.

Hiccup suddenly had a funny feeling that they were going to have the latter this year.

Just as it seemed the class might explode into a fireball of teenage anarchy, their teacher arrived. He scuttled into the classroom like a lizard, hunching his shoulders over a mug of tar-like coffee that Hiccup could smell all the way in the back of the classroom. He was nebbishly pale, the class of skin tone that was so papery and white, it seemed like it might just flake off in large pieces. The skin appeared to have been pulled tight around his cheekbones, giving his face a somewhat gaunt appearance. In what Hiccup sincerely hoped was not an effort to be hip and cool and relatable to the students, the teacher's sandy-brown hair was gelled up like porcupine quills. He wore a white Oxford shirt with no tie, khaki slacks and brown loafers. He should have been wearing thick, round glasses and a pocket protector, and sunning himself on a rock like a sandwinder dragon.

He was familiar to Hiccup, like this was a man he had actively tried to forget.

"Good afternoon, class." he said in a nasal-edged tone rounded out by a non-distinct accent designed to sound upper-crust and posh. "I'm your Draconology teacher for this year. My name is Archibald Bassingthwaighte."

Oh. Oh... It was Archie.

Hiccup's loose fists tightened until his fingernails were digging into his palms. Anger bled into him, the kind of anger that burned slow and long and could last for years. Of all the potential teachers they could have had, they had gotten him.

Archibald Bassingthwaighte had been one of the hunters present on that expedition to Canada gone to hell. It had been a retrieval expedition to relocate what Archie's reports had identified as an injured Toxic Nightshade, except it had turned out to be an injured and very angry Skrill that hadn't been pleased with their efforts. A common mistake even among seasoned hunters and one that could have been easily salvaged were it not for his disastrous plan. It had essentially boiled down to 'We're going to attack that lightning spewing dragon with many sharp pointy objects even though it's already super mad at us for trying to drug it'.

Archie ate his body weight in ego every morning. He had refused to listen to any alternatives that would have been far safer. While Stoic had been trying to reason him down (very loudly), the Skrill had gotten the pre-emptive drop on them and had carried off a then-nine year old Hiccup.

Hiccup's memory of the succeeding events was a little fuzzy, what with the whole concept of being carried away by a dragon so angry that any trace of reason seemed to have abandoned it. 'Pants-wetting terror' was an apt description. But at some point, the Skrill had dropped him due to be rammed by the Night Fury. The next thing he had been sure of, he'd been an uncounted number of miles from the camp with just the Night Fury for company.

But that hadn't been the only time Archie's ego and impossible stupidity had gotten in the way.

Archibald Bassingthwaighte was half the reason Val Haddock was no longer alive.

Hiccup didn't know the full story; he was usually told that he didn't want to know it. Though he doubted that he could listen to all of it and keep his temper. Even fourteen years later, Stoic still breathed heavily and clenched his fists.

Archie had committed the cardinal sin among dragon hunters. He had abandoned his partner. He had left Val to face a misidentified dragon by herself. It had been a stronger, fiercer, larger species than the initial reports had indicated. He had taken the truck and all the guns, leaving Val with just her knives and a crossbow. Inadequate weapons against the purported size and unprovoked ferocity of the dragon.

Archie had barely hung onto his license.

Cold fingers prodded his shoulder. "Hiccup!" Elsa's voice hissed.

Hiccup blinked. The entire class was staring at him and Mr. Bassingthwaighte, Archie, was frowning. His mug of coffee was in one hand and the class register was in the other.

"Well Mr. Haddock? Are you here or not?" he asked.

Hiccup had to unclench his jaw.

"Obviously, I am." he replied.

"Good of you to be here. I wasn't expecting to see a familiar face." Archie said, speaking in a companionable tone like they were old friends or something. He glanced down at the class register, then back up. "How is your father? I haven't seen him since-"

"Canada, I know." Hiccup interrupted. "He's fine, thank you. I'll tell him that you wish him the best. I'm also fine, thank you for asking, Archie."

There was no hiding the snark in his tone or the disguising the contempt in his expression. His fellow seniors were frowning in a mixture of confusion and surprise, as they had never heard him sound so acidic before.

"It's 'Mr. Bassingthwaighte, Jacob. I know we've met before, but this is school and you need to demonstrate proper respect for your teachers." Archie chided, his brow furrowing.

And what the hell is there for you to teach me? Hiccup nearly asked, but he held his tongue. It was hard work, though. He needed this class if he was going to swing the Core 40 diploma and that meant he should probably not mouth off to his teacher, regardless of bad blood. Moreover, he knew he could pass this class and he didn't want to spend the year struggling with another subject that he might not get a passing grade in.

Archie went through the rest of the register to confirm that the rest of the class was here and no one was in the wrong place. Without putting down his coffee, he proceeded to lecture them.

"I'm going to warn you now that this won't be an easy class. I'm sure many of you are in here because you're quite intelligent..." His brown eyes lingered briefly over Hiccup, like he was suspecting the sixteen year old didn't get in on merit. "But dragons are many and varied and I have been a dragon hunter for the past two decades. Even a hunter of my considerably calibre can still make mistakes. If you don't feel you can handle the material, you're free to leave the class. I won't hold it against you."

Hiccup snorted softly. Considerable calibre, my ass. No hunter of any calibre should deliberately antagonize a dragon or run off on their partner. He thought, gripping his pencil in lieu of digging his nails into his palms.

He wondered what sort of mistake Archie had made to get himself punted into a teaching position; a position reviled by veteran dragon hunters with any amount of self-respect.

Archie set his coffee down and picked up the stack of textbooks from his desk, placing them on the nearest student's desk with instructions to start passing them back.

"The main principle behind Draconology is identification." the teacher went on. "There are over seventy known species of dragons that we identify under the international, or the Basile classification. There are another ten that draconologists suspect exist and two sub-species were recently identified. Certainly not all of you are here with the intent to go into the field, but for those of you planning to become hunters or draconologists, it is absolutely crucial that you learn to identify dragon species down to the very marrow in their bones. A misidentification can be disastrous."

You would know. Hiccup thought, scowling down at the closed textbook.

"Who in this room can tell the class the eight known classifications of dragons?" Archie asked.

Four hands shot up, one junior and three overachieving seniors looking to make a good first impression. Archie considered them for a moment, but shifted his gaze to the back of the classroom instead.

"Jacob, let's see if you can answer the question." the teacher said.

Hiccup blinked. "Are you talking to me?"

Another thing he disliked was that Archie had never grokked to the fact that Hiccup hadn't gone by his first name in over ten years now. Maybe he would actually figure it out this time.

"Yes, Jacob. Can you tell the class what the eight known classifications of dragons are?" Archie asked.

"Well, I can, but do you want me to?" Hiccup wondered.

"Yes, I want you to." Archie said, a tad impatiently.

"Alright, just say so next time." Hiccup suggested. "I mean, it's not like I don't know. Also, do you want me to include the Sheng'an classification system? Because a lot of the countries over in the Far East refuse to adopt the Basile system-"

"Just the international classification system." Archie interrupted. "We'll get to the Oriental dragons later."

"Alright." Hiccup shrugged. "The eight classifications are Stoker class, Boulder class, Sharp class, Tidal class, Strike class and Tracker class, which is also known as the Fear class-"

"You're missing one." Archie interrupted.

"I wasn't done." Hiccup said. "The final class is the Mystery class. Any dragon in that class hasn't been documented thoroughly enough to be reliably placed in one of the other classes."

"Very good-"

"Also, the Fear class is considered a subset that categorizes dragons who bear more than one head, such as the Zippleback, the Snaptrapper, the Seashocker, and the Deadly Shadow." Hiccup added. "This doesn't include the Oriental dragons from places like China, Tibet, and Hokkaido. There are thirty known Oriental species that are divided into nine classes under the Sheng'an system."

Something flickered across Archie's face. It looked like disappointment.

"We're focusing on the Basile-classed dragons." he said. "Can you tell us what dragons are classed as Mystery?"

"Yes, I can." Hiccup assured him.

The silence that followed all but dripped with anticipation.

"Oh, did you want me to?" Hiccup asked, pretending to be surprised. He could see Archie grinding his teeth now and some of the students giggled quietly.

"Yes, Jacob. Tell the class." The teacher was practically growling. "If you know the answer, then tell the class."

"The Changewing, the Boneknapper, the Smothering Smokebreath, the Flightmare, the Toxic Nightshade, and the Raptortongue." Hiccup listed off. "That list doesn't include the Quilled Rubythroat and the Mottled Sharpclaw, the two recently discovered sub-species which appear to be related to Speed Stingers and Scuttleclaws, respectively."

Archie assumed a lofty expression. Hiccup recognized it as the expression he wore when he felt slighted, but decided that he was too posh and upper-crust to show it.

"Although, there has been talk about shifting the Changewing out of the Mystery class and into either the Tracker or Sharp class." Hiccup went on, just as the teacher was about to speak. "The hunters who traveled with the Allied forces during World War II had plenty of time to study a male Changewing, but draconologists have been arguing over the viability of the information collected given the 'alternation' of his behavior. They claim that it doesn't match the data they've collected from studying other Changewings. I think the sticking point is over the courtship and intimidation color displays that male Changewings are capable of."

The silence that settled over the room was very satisfying to hear. It was slightly stunned and partially in awe. It wasn't like the students didn't know that Hiccup was the son of a dragon hunter and that it was very obvious that this was stuff he would know. Hiccup would place money on the fact that the stunned part of the silence came from the fact that none of his fellow seniors had ever heard him say quite so much in one sitting. He wasn't a student that teachers called on a lot.

"I can go on." he offered.

Archie shook his head. "No, I think we have enough information to begin." he said. "And Jacob, no one likes a show-off." he added in a tone that was usually reserved for saying: 'fuck you and the horse you rode in on'.

"I'm not showing off. I just grew up actively interested in this stuff." Hiccup pointed out, shrugging.

Archie's eyes narrowed. "So you think you know the material better than I do." he stated.

The statement had 'trap' written all over it. There was bad blood between Bassingthwaighte and the Haddock family. Hiccup got the creeping feeling that Archie was trying to bait him. The older man had definitely had a chip on his shoulder ever since Hiccup had proved that Terrible Terrors did, in fact, have a universal call in addition to their usual flock call. For Archie, being proven wrong at all was exactly like getting stabbed in the ego. He was good at holding a grudge.

"That I never said. I happen to know it very well. Whether or not I know it better than you isn't the point." Hiccup said, hoping he was able to dodge the trap. "You're the teacher here, so I figure there must be some things you know that I don't."

Stroke the ego a little and maybe Archie wouldn't try singling him out again.

Archie visibly preened.

"You're absolutely right, Jacob." he said. "Now-"

"Just make sure your facts are straight before your stupidity gets someone else's mother eaten."

The words slipped out of Hiccup's mouth before he could consider not saying them, tainted with old bitterness and the pain of a young child who would never get the chance to know his other parent.

The class went silent without so much as a whisper. Archie pressed his lips together until they were just a thin line. Hiccup shook his head briefly so his bangs fell over his eyes, obscuring his view of the room, and laid his chin down on his crossed arms.

There would be little chance he could have much respect for the person who had basically, and knowingly, delivered his mother into the jaws of death.

And he had thought this was going to be the easy class.

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