"Why would you make out of words
A cage for your own bird?
When it sings so sweet
The screaming, heaving fuckery of the world?"

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Song: No Plan, Hozier

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XXI - Talks

One Month Later

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The red-gold leaves crunched under Percy boots as he and the rest of his friends walked to the dingy pub in the village of Hogsmead. The air was becoming bitingly cold around him, and he pulled his long overcoat closer to him.

They entered the pub, empty except for Harry and his friends and a few other patrons. It seemed they were to first to arrive as they pulled up chairs and talked in hushed whispers. Hermione was whispering fervently to Harry as they sipped at the drinks called butterbeer.

The door opened suddenly, a rather large group of people pouring through the door, laughing merrily. Harry seemed rather pale and shot Hermione a long look as she just smiled. "A couple of people?" Percy heard him hiss.

The group settled and Fred Weasley, Ron's older brother, ordered butterbeer for the rest of the group, the poor bartender looking ready to pass out by the amount of Hogwarts students in his pub. Percy nearly laughed, remembering the few times he and Annabeth had gone out and about in the city and how packed each bar had been.

"Cough up," Fred said, "I don't have enough gold for all of this." The gold was handed over and finally, the group settled, looking at the three friends in the front expectantly. Harry asked Hermione something, she replied, and Harry sat down.

"Hi," she started, looking out at the group, eyes lingering on the gap between where the Transfers and the rest of the group sat, "Well, um, you all know why we're here. Um Harry here," he gave her a scathing look, "Well I had the idea, that it may be best if we learned Defence Against the Dark Arts from someone, well, capable because whatever she is teaching is absolute rubbish—"

"Hear, hear," A boy with golden blonde hair and a blue and bronze tie chorused, heartening Hermione.

"Well I think we should take matters into our own hands," Hermione stated plainly, her jaw set in determination, as she glanced at Harry, "And to do that, I mean, we have to learn to defend ourselves, not relying on theory, but real spells—"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" Another boy asked.

"Of course I do," Hermione said in a rather hurried tone, "But it's not about that anymore. I want to be defended, because...because," she swallowed, "Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction was one Percy expected. A shriek there, a pale face there, the wide eyes there, and the spilt drink over there. Percy couldn't quite blame them for the stigma around the name, knowing the power of a name, but how far could that extend to a mortal man? With a titan, a primordial, their power all but answered for the lack of name dropping, but he was far from any of those. Percy just rolled his eyes.

"Well that's the plan, anyway," Hermione continued, "Now if you want to join, we need to decide how—"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said a blonde Hufflepuff in a hostile voice.

Hermione blanched, "Well Dumbledore says—"

"You mean he believes him ," he said, sending a reproachful glance at Harry.

"Who even are you?" Ron snapped.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

Piper rolled her eyes muttering something under his breath, but Zacharias heard it, "What was that?" He asked, "And why are we even letting Slytherins here, we all know they're dirty little—"

"Oh shut your mouth, Smith, and drop the tough guy act." Nico cut in. All eyes turned to the pale boy, hidden in the shadows of the room, the only sign of him being his black boots resting on the table in front of him. He leaned forward, slipping out of the shade and resting his elbows on the table as he gestured for Hermione to continue.

Hermione seemed miffed and was quick to defend herself, "Look," She said, glancing at Nico, suddenly realising she couldn't remember his name, which she timidly asked for.

He smirked, and the room seemed to drop a degree for a moment before coming back to normal, "Nico. Nico di Angelo."

"Well, um, Nico is right, and that's not even what this meeting was about—" Her voice rose as she spoke, cut off when Harry spoke for the first time.

"It's alright Hermione." Harry seemed to have realised something Percy hadn't, so he watched the boy carefully, trying to see what he had.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he asked, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone." His eyes were cold, and Percy could feel the entire room, even the bartender, holding his breath as he spoke.

"All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—"

"Murder lover," Piper said in a sing-song voice, causing everyone to glance at her. She grinned at Zacharias, batting her eyes in a way that made him blush, "I mean, why would you ask how poor, what's his name, Cedric was murdered? Why does it matter? Unless you want to fulfil some fantasy—"

"Piper," Jason cut her off, his face strained and red, "That's enough." Piper rolled her eyes, still smiling.

Harry was staring at Zacharias with a mix of disdain and contempt that Percy knew all too well. Finally, he spoke, "If you're looking for me to tell you what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone, I can't help you, and you should pack your bags and go. I don't want to talk about Cedric, okay? So if that's what you're here for, as I said, you should go." He was addressing the whole crowd, and for the first time, Percy saw who this boy could be.

He had the makings of a leader in him, he just needed the push. Percy knew there was no teaching leadership, all you could do was help and hope they would gain enough wisdom and survive long enough to lead the charge.

No one left as Harry cast a glare at Hermione, who seemed to brush it aside. Zacharias was staring rather intently at Harry, but he did not get out of his seat.

It was Hermione who picked up the conversation, her voice higher pitched than it had been. "Well, um, if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to —"

"Is it true," a girl asked, tilting her head to the side as she examined Harry, "That you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur as Harry confirmed that he could, indeed, produce a Patronus.

Percy knew very little of them, having deemed it a less important lesson to focus on. But judging by the tittering and surprised looks in the crowd, they were a big deal.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

Harry looked at her curiously, "Do you happen to know Madam Bones?"

The girl smiled brightly, "Why yes, she's my aunty. I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So, is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

Harry looked flustered, but he replied, "Yes."

"Blimey, Harry," A boy Percy recognised as Lee Jordan said, "I never knew that!"

"Well Mum told Ron not to spread it around," Fred said with a roll of his eyes, grinning all the same, "Didn't want him getting even more attention."

"She's not wrong," Harry commented, causing a few laughs. For the first time, Percy noticed the veiled person who sat in the corner, who had been watching the proceedings, as they shifted slightly in their seat. He slowly put his hand in his pocket, wrapping it around the cold metal of Riptide.

"And did you kill the basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Another boy demanded, "The one the portraits told me about when I was up there last year..."

"Yeah," Harry said nervously, and Percy and Annabeth exchanged an amused glance, but he quickly dropped it and continued to watch the lone figure. A low whistle could be heard, and glances and little murmurs of surprise were passed around.

"And not to mention he saved that Sorcerous Stone—" Neville said.

"Sorcerer's," hissed Hermione.

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.

One girl's eyes were as wide as Drachmas.

"And that's not to mention," another girl commented, as Harry spared her a quick glance as his face turned a bit red "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year—getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things. . . ."

Percy had to give a low whistle, "Nice going, Potter." He commented.

"Look," Harry insisted, rubbing his hands together, "I appreciate it, but I don't want to sound modest or anything, but I did that all with some help—"

"Not the dragon last year," Someone commented, "That was some wicked flying!"

"And no one helped you with the dementors this summer," Susan said, giving Harry a long look.

"Yeah, well—"

"Are you trying to weasel your wait out of showing us anything?" Zacharias Smith spoke up again.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

"I second that," Percy muttered, before hissing something in Greek about Octavian.

He heard Jason's snort and Zacharias sent nasty glares to them, but it was ignored and he turned back to the main conversation. "Well, we're all here to listen to him, no? So are you going to tell us or not?"

It was Fred Weasley who snarled out, "That's not what he said."

"Would you like us to clean your ears for you?" His twin George asked, feigning innocence as he leaned towards the pale boy, pulling something out of the bag from the joke shop Zonkos he was carrying.

"Or any part of your body, we're not picky," Fred commented.

"Moving on," Hermione rushed out, "We're all in agreement to learn from Harry right?"

There was a general murmur of agreement across the room, except Zacharias, who sat with his arms crossed as he eyed the instrument in George's hands.

Hermione, noticeably relieved at the fact something had been settled, looked out again, "So now we just need to decide when we'll meet, of course, I think meeting any less than once a week defeats the purpose—"

Someone cut in, talking about Quidditch, and Percy took the opportunity to tune the conversation out for a moment, leaning into Annabeth, "Any word from the Kanes?"

Not taking her eyes off the group, she whispered, "They helped rebuild wards and helped with containment magic around the Labyrinth. We found the entrance in New Rome. But besides that, the Eygptian Magicians have pretty much locked down. Same with the Norse." He nodded

It was a shout that drew Percy back, and he heard the tail end of whatever the boy had been saying, "...more important than anything else this year, even O.W.L.S!"

He looked around at the faces, seemingly waiting for something before he spoke, "I find myself at a loss with why the ministry has sent a useless hag to teach us, in such a critical time! Obviously, they're in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells—"

"We think," Hermione said glancing around, "She has some mad idea that Dumbledores going to create his own private army, mobilize us against the Ministry."

Annabeth hummed along, her face set in a way that made Percy knew she was dissecting everything Hermione had just said. The rest of the room sat still, stunned at what Hermione had said except for a Ravenclaw girl Percy didn't recognise.

"Well," she said, her voice somewhat dreamy, "that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" Harry cried.

"Yes," she said tilting her head, giving a ditzy smile, "He's got an army of heliopaths."

"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.

"Yes, he has," said the girl.

"What are heliopaths?" asked a boy.

"They're spirits of fire," she said, eyes wide, "Great, tall, flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of —"

They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione tartly.

"Oh yes they do!" said Luna angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione.

"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you —"

"Hem, hem," someone cut in. Percy jumped at the sound, thinking it was Umbridge, but it was a redheaded girl who he believed to be Ron's younger sister, Ginny. "Weren't we going to decide when to meet for Defence Lessons?"

"Yes, yes, we were..." Hermione said.

"Once a week sounds cool," Lee said.

"As long as—"

"Yes, Quidditch practises, we know," Hermione said, "We just need to decide where we're going to meet."

Glances were traded. Someone suggested the library, another an unused classroom, but all of them were thrown out. They decided that they would figure it out, and would send a message out when they had a place.

Hermione rummaged through her bag and pulled out a piece of paper and a quill, and she took a deep breath as if preparing to say something. "I-I think everybody should write their name down just so we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge—or anybody else—what we're up to."

Fred snatched the quill immediately and signed, but the rest of the group seemed less keen. "Er—" Zacharias said. "I'm sure Ernie can tell me when the meetings are."

Percy snorted, leaning forward to grab the quill, and messily scrawling out his name. He heard a conversation behind him, probably them all trying to explain their hesitance. "Look," Percy cut in, silencing the murmurs, "You have to commit."

"You can't give half an effort. You're either all in," He said as he turned to Zacharias. He narrowed his eyes, "Or you're out and you never speak of this again. It's not that hard."

"Ernie," Hermione added, "Do you think I'll just leave the list lying around?"

"Er, no, of course not..." He sighed, grabbed the quill, and signed. After Ernie, no one, not even Zacharias raised a protest about the signing, and once it was done, Hermione slipped the parchment in her bag.

The group separated, but Percy did not miss the newfound confidence and swagger of the group.

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XXII - Loose Lips Sink Ships

Two Days Later

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Piper watched closely as Jason poured the ingredients into their shared cauldron, looking for the reaction that would signify they were correct in their measurements. But she found her attention constantly pulled away as Umbridge, who was surveying the lesson, spoke periodically.

"May I ask how long you've been teaching here?"

Snape's face was impassive, but Piper could see the coldness in his eyes, "Fourteen Years," he drawled.

"And you first applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, if I'm correct?" Piper and Jason exchanged a surprised glance.

"Yes," Snape hissed, face curiously becoming more alight with flames.

"And you were unsuccessful?"

" Obviously ."

Piper sighed, and Jason glanced at her. Umbridge passed the two, glancing into their cauldrons, before giving a small tut and passing on. Jason rolled his eyes, muttering obscenities under his breath.

"You saw the notice this morning?" Piper asked as the din of the room rose. Not looking up from the cauldron, he gave a tiny nod. It was so tiny, in fact, that anyone watching him could have passed it off as a whole host of things.

"Who do you think blabbed?" She whispered as they departed from the classroom half an hour later.

"I don't know," he admitted. "There were plenty of people in the bar, and any of them could have let something slip." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "And Umbridge has ears everywhere."

"Unfortunately," Piper muttered.

"Don't look now," he sighed, "It's that Malfoy brat and his posse."

"Just walk by them," She said, "Don't acknowledge them."

The couple passed the gaggle of students, who shot poor and uncreative insults at the two. Once they were passed, they exchanged an amused, yet strained glance. The insults were funny to them, no doubt, but it was still a reminder of how little the students saw the Demigods as their kin, which was what they were supposed to do.

The quest wasn't ruined, but none of them could have expected the way certain professors and students frayed their already thin patience. And with grief hanging so low over their heads and the upcoming Winter, they were set for old and harsh darkness.

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XXIII - Restraint

One Week Later

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Percy tapped the railing nervously, trying to drown out the singing surrounding him.

His lip curled as another nasty verse, directed towards Ron Weasley, started up, clearly not helping him as he defended his goal post. Piper was sitting next to him, her eyes searching for the golden ball, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Percy leapt out of his seat when one of the balls, a bludger if he remembered correctly, hit Harry in the side, outrage on the tip of his tongue. But then he held up his hand, and the light caught on the tiny golden ball in his hand.

A roar went up from the Gryffindor house, and Piper and Percy rushed to the field to congratulate the person who they had become semi-close to. Once they reached the pitch, they exchanged a glance.

Their friends, who had arrived just before they did, standing behind the Gryffindor team. Malfoy stood in front of them, pompous and arrogant as always. Percy heard what he was saying, "—we couldn't fit in useless loser either—for his father, you know—"

Percy glanced at the team to see the Weasley twins, rage barely contained on their faces. Percy growled a low and barely heard sound. Their friends had their arms, but Percy felt his rage grow when he addressed his friends,

"Was thinking about adding in the half breeds too! Lazy sods for the boys and useless whores for the gi—" Percy wasn't aware of moving, because all rationality was replaced with rage. Burning, uncontrollable, rage . And it felt good. Like a breath of fresh air, the climax of a song.

The sea doesn't like to be restrained , his mind roared, you are the sea.

There was a logical part of him, somewhere, screaming a thousand and two reasons that this was dumb, screaming to remember Umbridge. But the passion gave way. He didn't feel his hand connect with the side of Malfoy's face, didn't realise he had said the command for his blades until he felt arms holding him back.

The waves, crashing and pounding, receded to a gentle lull as he registered the scene. Malfoy of the floor, clutching his bleeding nose. Fred, George and Harry, who he would later be told rushed to Malfoy after he did, stalking to the castle.

The blades in his boots were in full display, catching against the sunlight. He felt a vice grip on his upper arm as he fought to get to the little bastard. Malfoy was staring in horror at him, his face pale and aghast as he took in the rage painted on Percy's face.

But suddenly, Malfoy was up, and Percy was out of the grip somehow. Malfoy rushed towards him and threw a sloppy punch, and Percy was too surprised to even react. The punch, messy and uncoordinated, hit him in the jaw still, causing him to stagger. He moved to retaliate, but there were now arms surrounding him, preventing him from moving, so he fought back.

"Percy, stop it!" He heard Jason hiss into his ear.

Percy squared his jaw, glaring at Malfoy even more, causing the boy to shrink back. "Percy I'm serious—"

"Mister Jackson," came Professor Severus Snape's drawl, "Care to explain yourself?"

Percy finally wrenched himself out of Jason's grip, brushing the dust of his robes as he met the professor's eyes, chin up. "He was being an asshole, and I think that's plenty an explanation—"

The professor's eyes were burning as he took Percy by the arm, wrenching him close, "Answer me, Jackson." He spat.

Percy's lip curled. Despite being in his house, a house he had a noticeable bias towards, Severus Snape had never liked him. He pulled himself out Snape's grip, cold eyes burning, "Don't you ever touch me again." He growled before stalking away to the castle.