When Myths Meet Magic || 6

5 || Thalia

Thalia shivered as they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Even though it wasn't in the dungeons, Snape had somehow made it seem fifteen below freezing. Her breath hung in the air, white against the dark pictures of what appeared to be victims of a variety of curses. Several were writhing in pain while others lay motionless on the floor, sprouting gruesome appendages.

Snape strut in after the students and shut the door with a click. "I have not asked you to take out your books," he said as he swept across the classroom to the front. From in front of Thalia, Hermione hastily dropped her book in her bag.

Snape's ever-drawling, icy voice faded in the background as Thalia's thoughts swept her away, her eyes fixated on each horror Snape so nonchalantly displayed. Did he do that with his own wand and then captured it in a photograph in case he ever needed reassurance of how evil he was? (Thalia could nearly picture it: Snape entering his office after a long day of taking points from Gryffindor, heaving a sigh, picking up a photo of a dismembered, emaciated victim, looking in the mirror, and whispering to himself, "you, sir, are a boss ass bitch.")

Too late, Thalia realized Jason was violently nudging her. She looked up and saw Snape curling his lip at her.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he sneered. "I was saying, Miss Grace, since you seem to find my class so meaningless as to not pay attention, you should be able to tell me the advantages of using a nonverbal spell."

Thalia shrugged lackadaisically. "Well damn, I dunno, it's cool, innit?"

"Another five points from Gryffindor, Miss Grace. And in the future, if you wished to appear cool, I would advise you to shower."

"Holy Hecate, it can't be legal for a teacher to talk to you like that, can it?" whispered Annabeth in disbelief.

"You will now divide," Snape continued to the rest of the class, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Nico turned to Thalia and rubbed his fingers together with small clicking noises from his tongue. "Hey, hey, c'mere, pidgeon, pidgey pidgey pidgey."

"Ah, shut up, Death Breath," said Thalia. "Your scrawny kitten bones can barely hold you up as it is."

"In. Silence," Snape snarled.

>>>•O•<<<

It took Thalia a trip to the infirmary to get Madam Pomfrey to undo the swirling black fire that darted in and out of Thalia's pores, making her appear  extremely hairy and unfortunate.

"Nico, I hope you realize we're at war," said Thalia after the black fire stopped leaping from her nose.

"Oh no, now I feel really bad," said Nico, rubbing his wrists, which ached from carrying Thalia. "By the way, you should really lay off the treacle tart."

"You're one to talk, have you looked in a mirror since we got here?"

"Hah, I thought you said I had kitten bones."

"Yeah, kitten bones, fat a—"

"Welcome, welcome!" said Professor Slughorn as they entered the Potions classroom. "Please, take a seat!"

Thalia and Nico glanced around. Piper, some other Slytherin, Malfoy, and Zabini sat at another. Percy, Annabeth, and Jason were at another. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated at a third. Terry Boot, two other Ravenclaws, and Will filled a fourth.

"This feels racist," whispered Thalia to Nico, who had already made a beeline to sit at Percy, Annabeth, and Jason's table. That forced Thalia to sit at Harry, Ron, and Hermione's table. She couldn't help but feel like the fourth wheel of a tricycle.