Chapter Text
The grounds of Hogwarts have never been so crowded. Not even during the Triwizard Tournament the previous year. Most of their ‘visitors’ were scattered, divided into two main groups, who seemed either hesitant to mingle or downright cautious. The group that contained the most familiar faces, not that there were really that many, seemed to prefer staying close to the forest. The same forest that all the inhabitants of the castle knew they should avoid due to its dangers. But strangely, they seemed almost at home there, as if any danger it might pose was nothing to them. Their orange clothing contrasting with the dark background, even while still wearing armour.
The second group, also dressed in armour (but of a different style) and purple robes, seemed more focused on monitoring the terrain and checking the tents they had set up when they arrived. They seemed to have more difficulty relaxing, perpetually alert. Not that the first group wasn't, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings and their posture always ready for action. This was something they noticed that all visitors had in common.
As if they had finally noticed that they wanted to talk to them, a familiar trio of black-haired individuals changed direction and headed towards where the wixen were standing, watching and waiting. Behind them followed some of their colleagues, their eyes alert and less trusting. They could see their weapons, and none of them seemed to have the slightest intention of walking without them. A contrast to when they first met the boys, when they didn't even imagine they had them, the swords disguised as something else, something inconspicuous. A magic as unknown as the metals from which they were made.
When they stopped in front of the group, a silence fell. Everyone's attention suddenly turned to them, waiting for the interaction that would follow. Curious and anticipating. Always restless. As they took a while to speak, the three in front looked at each other briefly before looking back at them. The boy with sea-green eyes raised an eyebrow.
“Well?”
“I think that you owe us an explanation.”
“I… We don’t owe you anything, headmaster.” the word seemed to have struck a chord with him, his eyes narrowing. He stopped briefly to take a breath, calming himself. “But it would be nice of us if we explained a few things.”
“And isn't that exactly what they want us to do?” The shortest of the three chimed in, looking up for a split second while speaking.
“Obviously, when they don't leave it to us to do things for them?” the only female of them rolled her eyes as her talked. The oldest grunted.
“Classic,” he sighed. “How in Hades should we explain things to them? That’s usually not my job.”
The trio stood looking at each other, trying to see if any of them had any idea where to start.
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a boy chimed in. “Oh, I know, I know!”
“How?” the girl, Thalia, they think, asked.
“We can use the presentation that we do for the new campers!” the boy grinned, jumping up and down.
“That?” Percy didn’t seem to share the same enthusiasm.
“Wait! That? I heard about them doing it, but…” she looked to the youngest of the cousins, a grin blooming.
“I heard too. Never stopped to see it.” Nico turned to the oldest of the cousins. “Let’s do it.”
“Let’s do it!” Thalia agreed, fully grinning now.
“Ugh, fine! Let’s do this then.” Percy didn’t look exactly happy about it, but resigned, outvoted. His cousins laughed at him.
The group of wixen, composed of a few professors and the golden trio, did not understand anything.
“What?” Harry asked.
“There is a presentation we sometimes give at camp to our new campers. Apparently, we are going to use it to explain things to you.”
“A presentation? Of what kind? Do you need anything?” Minerva McGonagall took control. Used to organising things at school.
“I guess so?” Percy then gestured for the boy who had suggested it to assume the lead.
“So, we're gonna need a big space, maybe that big room that you eat in? And then, empty the room, set a stage, get chairs for people to watch,...” The boy immediately began listing things with frightening enthusiasm.
Some time later, the teachers who had not been dragged away to help guided the rest of the school to the great hall. The first thing they noticed was that where the teachers' table used to be, there was now a stage, which, even though improvised, still looked worthy of a grand theatre. The tables of the houses had been replaced by a large number of chairs divided between a front row and four large ‘columns’ behind it. Some other chairs don’t follow that rule, standing next to the walls. Visually separated from the main set. And now that they were looking, the hall itself seemed larger than normal.
“Oh, good. You’re finally here,” a girl noted and came over to them. “So, we noticed that you always sit separately, so we made a ‘column’ for each of your houses. The front row is for the teachers. The rest were for the camps, some romans decided that they wanted to watch too. And a few of us always like to listen to it again, especially the younger ones.”
“You can go to your seats now,” another one said, rolling her eyes impatiently after she saw that they hadn't said anything or moved.
Only when all the students (F irst Gryffindor, after Hufflepuff, then Ravenclaw and Slytherin, in that order) and teachers were seated did both groups of visitors go to their places. They were also divided. On the left were the greeks and on the right were the romans. Not every visitor was there. Some of them had to patrol and stand guard, they explained, so those who were not interested were on duty. The idea made the wizards uncomfortable. Everyone had noticed how they behaved, how they walked, how they carried themselves. Not always, but they always had this air about them. So... militaristic. Maybe that's why the places they came from were called camps and not schools. They were training zones, military camps.
But training against what? Why? And by whom? Hopefully, whatever they were going to do on that presentation of theirs would give them some much-needed answers.
A few people entered the stage, on the part not hidden by the curtains on the board.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, everyone,” a boy with strange purple eyes spoke theatrically.
“We are very happy that you are with us on this wonderful afternoon,” said a blonde on his side, smiling at them.
“We are here today to present you with an exclusive play, a musical written and developed together by various of our cabins,” a girl with long black hair clarified.
“Directed by cabin 12, music composed mainly by cabin 7, both with the help of cabin 9, who created the sets and mechanisms, characterisation was done by cabins 10 and 7. Cabin 20 is responsible for the special effects, with the help and participation of some other minor cabins. We would like to thank everyone who helped with this project once again.” Those on stage bowed dramatically.
“We hope that you all enjoy it.”
“So, let’s start with…” a boy with dark curly hair entered the stage and leaned to whisper something in the ear of the speaker. They both shared a mischievous smile, their eyes shining. “...The Lightning Thief.”
The lights in the hall dimmed.
The focus now was entirely on the stage.
All they could do was wait and see.