III: That Lady in the Moving Painting

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Nico had shadow travelled many times before, but this was only his second time landing on someone. The first time he landed on someone, it was a mysterious cloaked figure, and the person who currently had his foot under Nico's armpit was in a cloak as well. Getting déjà vu vibes, particularly about Albania, Nico mentally cursed the Fates. Meanwhile the figure, who appeared to be a boy of fourteen or fifteen, extracted himself from the pile of white feathers- what was up with that?

"Where the bloody hell did you come from?"

Gods, please don't tell me I landed in Albania again.

"Are you thick? If you were in Albania, I would be speaking Albanian to you, is that not correct?" the boy said, studying Nico.

I said that out loud. Huh.

The boy's words still not registering, Nico found the words, "they keep asking about a scorpion and an Albus Severus Potter" out of his mouth.

Nico remembered his father's demand about not revealing himself, and Nico was confident he would easily be able to comply. Now, he doubted himself. How could he keep the secrets of the demigod world safe if he couldn't control what was coming out of his mouth?

Sitting up and turning his head to see the boy's reaction, Nico found himself alone. Then, another cloaked person, a man this time, entered the hallway.

"Goodness gracious!"

The man was a pudgy, middle-aged guy with a gray moustache. He reminded of Nico of his math teacher from his old boarding school, Westover Hall.

"What in Merlin's beard are you wearing?" the man exclaimed, horrified.

The Fates were pushing their luck. Sending him to The Pit was one thing, but sending him back to medieval times where people wore cloaks and persecuted witches was another thing. Nico glanced at his clothes: black t-shirt, his aviator jacket, jeans, and sneakers. His mission of not attracting attention was not going well.

Nico concentrated. He wasn't very good at using the Mist, but Hazel had taught him some things, along with Thalia (Nico assumed it was a "sorry-for-having-your-sister-join-the-hunt-and-then-die" apology gift).

With a small whoosh a portion of the Mist swirled around Nico and turned itself into a cloak, not very unlike of Mr. Gray Moustache. However, Mr. Gray Moustache was not fooled. Shaking a finger the size of a small sausage, he exclaimed, "Oh, don't mistake me for a fool, young lad! Trying to blend in, spy for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, eh? Armando Dippet cannot be trifled with!"

As Nico's mist-cloak slowly fading, he tried playing a scared child. "I d-don't work for... work for h-him. I-I was g-going to the o-orchard for an apple, a-and then a f-flash of light, and s-suddenly I'm here, landing o-on someone."

Dippet's face didn't soften; rather, he scowled, muttered "Why do I have to deal with this," grabbed the scruff of Nico's next, and dragged him off. Nico didn't protest, instead deciding to keep up his innocent-scared-child facade.

Nico was yanked through the door, into the main hallway. There were hundreds of staircases, constantly moving, and thousands of paintings on the wall, which were alive, and moving as well. Oh, and there was a crowd kids too, gapping and gossiping at the strange boy being lugged up to the headmaster's office.

Maybe it was an old camp for demigods, disguised as a giant castle? There was a supernatural vibe everywhere, but it was just too...

Magical.

How come there were moving paintings here, while back at Camp Half-Blood, all the pictures were completely stationary? If there were moving staircases here, then why were there no moving walkways at camp that went from the cabins to the dining pavilion? How were the demigods of the past able to afford a whole castle, and why didn't it even have a hint of Greek?

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