Please welcome the Ghost king, Nico di Angelo, at Hogwarts

Chapter 4

I am seriously starting to wonder if, of Percy and I, I wouldn't be the one with the worst luck...

Mr. Chosen One and Seamus or whatever his name is were fighting. No but like why? Why can't they both just shut it?

"She believes the Daily Prophet? She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"

Hehe, Fool of a Took. God Tolkien is amazing. I hope they've got The Hobbit in the library.

"Yeah, something like that."

I rolled my eyes as Harry threw his wand down on to his bedside table and angrily changed into his pyjamas. If that's something you can do angrily.

"Look... what did happen that night when... you know, when... with Cedric Diggory and all?"

Diggory, Diggory... I heard this name somewhere. Oh, yeah. There was a bit of a scandal last year, because immediately after his death, he came back halfway along with two other spirits or something like that... I don't have all the details, I only know the story from some ghosts who like to ramble on about... stuff.

"Leave my mother out of this, Potter!" Ok what the hell is happening now? I'm going to ask again, but can't they just shut it?

"What's going on?" Thank you, Ron, for intervening before I bash someone's brain in. They were ready to fight, Harry kneeling on his bed with his wand and Seamus with his fists raised.

"He's having a go at my mother!"

I rolled my eyes again, and tuned out the rest of their conversation. I need my beauty sleep! That's not true. I need some calm, through. So please kindly shut the holy hell up. Sorry, was that considered cursing?

I spent the night doing paperwork, to everyone and their mother's ultimate surprise. At around four in the morning, I started to wonder if life would have been easier if I was born a dragon. Quit random, but since I spent half an hour wondering and daydreaming about it, I feel it's important to tell you. Actually, it was more nightdreaming, but you got the idea.

Did I miss breakfast? Yes I did. Don't call me crazy, but breakfast is one of those meals I allow myself to miss, amongst others. Plus, I'm technically a god, so I don't need to eat, and without Will insisting that I eat 'at least two toasts, and no, it can't be two half toasts', I just don't have the time or the energy to eat. Laziness and me, a long love story.

I really wish Will was here, even if it means eating my toasts. Or, even better, I wish I was still in my time, with my boyfriend at Camp Half-Blood. Some would say that I am closer to 'my time', being in the 90s, but I do what I want, and I decided that my time is with Will.

Ron, Harry, and all the Gryffindors seemed to have problems with potion lessons. Apparently there was a... snake? Don't ask me, ask them! You didn't really expect me to listen as the Golden Trio complained about a toad, and a snake, and homework. They should like doing their homework, since they're in a magical school. When a muggle, that's the term they use for humans who can't do magic, does math or, Hades-forbid, physics homework, they have the ultimate right to complain. If you're doing homework about spells and potions and magic, you don't have a legal right to complain, decided I. I think Hermione had the same reasoning, because she enjoys homework as much as Ron loves eating, or as much as Harry loves Quidditch players.

I am seriously convinced that Harry has a thing for Quidditch players.

First, we had history of magic, as I overheard Ron tell his friends at breakfast. Then, we had double potion, then divination, and then double defence against the dark art. Isn't that a bit paradoxal for me? I mean, I am the dark art.

As I entered the history classroom, I immediately sensed something was wrong. But what was it?

Oh, in the name of Hades. Teacher's a ghost. Not one I need to bring back, through, so it's alright. I hope my father told them, you know, not to call me 'king', or 'prince', or whatever title they could come up with.

Yes, he did! Little celebration dance (internally) please! Binns, the teacher, still kept stealing glances my way with fear, or confusion, or whatever in his eyes. The most interesting thing I did today was watching Binns' death, which is as interesting as his classes, meaning not interesting at all. He died, didn't notice, and just woke up and went on with his classes, leaving his body behind.

For real tho, how does he make history of freaking magic boring? I might not be a history nerd, but I think there's something cool about it all. But, nooo. Teacher's a broken record, listing dates and facts as if reading a potatoe mash recipe, and constantly repeating 'as an addition to this" at the begging of his sentences.

It's weird, but I haven't seen any other ghosts. Perhaps my father was telling them yesterday.

The dungeons were creepy, and cold, and dark. Reminds you of someone? No, not Will, me! Will is more like a charm classroom. I'll let you figure out why on your own.

As I was standing in front of my cauldron, trying to figure out what the Snape, and not snake, professor, wrote on the board, said professor came up to me.

"I expect my students to work, Mr di Angelo, even an exchange student. Or perhaps you think too highly of yourself to produce a simple potion?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. He was at some of the order meetings, I remember. "No, sir. I happen to have a problem."

"And what would that be?"

"I can't read."

He sneered at me, hiding his confusion pretty well, I must say. "You can't read."

I nodded solemnly at him. "I happen to be dyslexic, and I can only read in Greek. It is my native language, you see."

"Do you expect me to write in Greek for you, Mr di Angelo?"

That bat was seriously starting to get on my nerves. No particular reason, he's just annoying. And also quite obviously an ableist piece of crap. "Well, either I can read the instructions or I don't do my potion."

"Then I expect you should find a solution quite soon."

He turned away, and I rolled my eyes at him. I spend the rest of the lesson trying to remove my dyslexia by glaring very hard at Bat's excessively swirly handwriting, earning myself a few strange looks form the students and some disapproving noises from the snake. Or the bat, whichever. Unfortunately, even my more desperate glaring attempts revealed to be unsuccessful. What a shame.

I decided to skip divination. Well, I tried, but Granger decided for me that I should not skip it. Meanie. I let her, because I was in fact curious. It's a morbid curiosity, really, since I don't exactly have the best track with prophecies.

"You'll soon go down where the deads live!" I looked up at mosquito teacher, startled. Did she just said I would go home soon? I think she meant to say that I was going to die, but technically the description fits both.

Harry also received his death sentence, which I find rather funny. It that how she keeps students interested? I had to keep myself from bursting in laugher. Perhaps she really is a seer, but she just needs to stop doing false predictions. The only true seer I personally know is Rachel, and she doesn't go around predicting which cup you will break at dinner.

Edited ✅