alea iacta est (Pt.1)

[cywscross]

Fandom: Harry Potter x Greek and Roman Mythology

Summary: Harry meets a Slytherin prefect when Hagrid takes him to Diagon Alley that first time.

 

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” Hagrid is saying rather darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.”

“Well that’s just hurtful, Mr. Hagrid,” Someone interjects out of the blue, and Harry almost drops his ice-cream from surprise.

He spins around, and then he has to crane his head up to take in the lanky teen standing behind them. He looks to be quite a few years older than Harry, with a head of dark curls and grey eyes that remind Harry of the stormy sea that surrounded the hut that Uncle Vernon dragged them to. He’s not dressed in wizard robes; in fact, that white shirt looks normal- Muggle, but the pants don’t look like they’re made of any fabric Harry’s seen before.

“Ody!” Hagrid looks equally surprised, but then his face breaks out into a broad grin even though his cheeks are a bit red. “Well, I suppose I don’ mean ev’ry Slytherin, but yeh’re an honorary Ravenclaw anyway.”

“Nevertheless, do try to judge us individually rather than as a whole,” The teen admonishes mildly, mild enough that it carries the conversation over Hagrid’s embarrassment well enough, and then he - Ody? - turns his attention onto Harry next, and Harry instinctively straightens. This is only the second time he’s met a fellow Hogwarts student, and this one’s already attending Hogwarts. He seems to be a Slytherin too so will he be like Malfoy or…?

“My apologies for startling you,” Ody offers first, and his words are cultured and smooth with a hint of an accent Harry can’t begin to place. The teen holds out his hand. “I am Odysseus Metis, but it’s such a mouthful that most people go with Ody.”

Harry fumbles with his ice-cream for a moment, hopes very hard his hand isn’t as sticky with the bit of melted ice-cream from earlier as he thinks it is, and reaches out to shake Ody’s hand.

If it is, Ody doesn’t so much as blink. He just smiles, and it’s an odd smile, lazy like he can barely be bothered to work the muscles there, but Harry thinks the most jarring thing about it is the way it contrasts so vividly with the intense, unwavering sharpness in Ody’s eyes.

“I’m- I’m Harry Potter,” Harry mumbles belatedly because that’s the thing to do even though Ody probably already knows who he is. Ody nods and doesn’t shake his hand any longer than politeness dictates, or try to touch him like it would grant him magical powers. Well, more magical powers. Harry breathes a sigh of relief.

“Ody’s a prefect fer the Slytherin House, Harry,” Hagrid explains. “Sixth year this year. Very fair, an’ very quick, on all levels. Yeh ever need help, he’s a reliable friend ter have.”

“The compliments might get to my head one day, Mr. Hagrid,” Ody remarks dryly, but he directs his smile at Hagrid, and even though it’s still not particularly wide or bright, it’s definitely more genuine than anything Malfoy aimed at anyone, and Harry finds himself relaxing at last.

“I’d be glad to help if you find yourself in any trouble, Mr. Potter, or even if you just want a friendly ear,” Ody tells him. “Of course, you’ll have your own prefects should you land yourself in one of the other three Houses, and you’ll make your own friends, but don’t hesitate to come to me if you require assistance.”

Harry nods, a knot in his stomach loosening now that it looks like he’ll be going to Hogwarts knowing at least one person who seems nice and doesn’t treat him like the Boy Who Lived.

At that moment, there’s a sudden crash from somewhere behind Ody, loud enough to make Harry jump, especially when a spirited cackle of delight follows the ruckus, but Ody just heaves a sigh, long-suffering dismay crossing his face, and - to Harry’s bewilderment - Hagrid sees it too and chuckles.

“Yeh’re here with the twins then?” The gamekeeper enquires, though he doesn’t actually seem to expect an answer.

“Yes,” Ody sighs again, raking fingers through his curls before stepping away. “So I’d best get going before they blow up the street or something similar. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Potter. I’ll see you both at Hogwarts come September.”

Harry manages to get in a nod, and Hagrid shouts a cheery goodbye after him, and then Ody is loping away, slipping through the crowd and getting lost in it in a matter of seconds.

“The twins?” Harry asks, curious, as they turn to continue their shopping trip.

“The Castores twins, yeah, and no doubt yeh’ll have yer own run-in with ’em soon enough,” Hagrid chortles. “They’re like brothers ter Ody, an’ some o’ the biggest pair o’ scamps yeh’ll ever meet. Them an’ the Weasley twins. Coincident’ly, all four of ’em are in the same House too - Gryffindor. The Castores are in their fourth year though; the Weasleys are only in their third. But no matter which House yeh ge inter, yeh’ll hear about ’em in yer own time.”

Well that’s just a bit ominous. But.. Ody knows the Castores twins so they can’t be that bad, right? And he doesn’t know anything about the Weasleys but the way Hagrid describes it, it just sounds like they’re a mischievous, rowdy bunch. And they’re in Gryffindor.

Still, he glances back in the direction Ody left in.

“Now then, yer books nex’, I think,” Hagrid says briskly, checking Harry’s list, and Harry quickly turns around again, putting the whole issue out of his mind for now. He doesn’t know how students are Sorted anyway. Maybe they won’t even have a choice.

~0~0~ 

Harry is in King’s Cross a good half hour early, and he’s already spent ten of those minutes looking for Platform 9¾, and failing. Uncle Vernon was very obliging, and he knows why now. His heart pounds, and his mind spirals with increasingly dire outcomes of what would happen if he misses the train. Would he get in trouble? Would he be kicked out?

Another eight minutes tick by, and he’s getting desperate enough to approach a guard - who’s actually been eyeing him suspiciously, which in turn makes Harry even more anxious - and then a familiar voice calls out to him, and Harry just about falls over with the sheer wave of relief that washes over him.

“Mr. Potter, we meet again,” Ody appears, striding towards him as other people rush for their own trains all around them. He isn’t very big or particularly brawny like a bodybuilder or something, but he has broad shoulders and noticeable muscle on him, and he’s tall. People part like the tide for him.

“I can’t find the platform!” Harry blurts out as soon as Ody’s within hearing range, and then he flushes red, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

Ody just quirks a smile. He’s definitely in normal- Muggle-wear today, jeans and another white shirt. Harry wonders if he’s from the Muggle world too.

“I thought you might be having some difficulties when I didn’t see you on the platform,” Ody agrees, pausing to flick a thoughtful eye over Hedwig before focusing on Harry again. “Mr. Hagrid is a good man but he can be forgetful at times, and details like this one can end up overlooked.” He cocks his head. “Let’s go then, shall we?”

Harry nods vigorously, ducking his head sheepishly when Ody arches an eyebrow at him, but he just looks amused, and with a hand on Harry’s cart, he begins leading Harry back to the space between Platforms 9 and 10.

A solid-looking but definitely not solid barrier later, Harry’s on the train with Ody behind him, who hefts his trunk up after him like it weighs nothing.

“Would you like to find your own compartment or come sit with some friends of mine?” Ody asks, and Harry has to bite his tongue not to jump on the offer of sticking with Ody instead of being alone again. They’d all be older students though, wouldn’t they? And Harry’s just a first-year; surely they wouldn’t want to-

“Harry, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” Ody cuts in, pinning him with the same intensity that was in his eyes when they first met. “And my friends won’t mind, I promise.”

Harry bites his lip before nodding cautiously. “I- It’s just- You’ve helped me so much, and I don’t mean to take up so much of your time-”

Ody sighs and prods Harry’s shoulder to get him moving again. “I can see this will be a problem. Come along, child. Penelope will love to coddle you.”

Penelope?

“I’m not a child,” Harry mutters instead, somewhat petulantly.

This makes Ody laugh, just a little. “Of course not. Apologies.”

Ody really is very odd.

~0~0~ 

Penelope turns out to be a very pretty sixth-year, with hair as golden as Ody’s is dark, and fair-skinned where Ody is more bronzed from the sun. Also, they’re a couple and very much in love if the way Ody looks at her like nothing is more important in the world, and the way Penelope’s face lights up when she sees Ody are anything to go by. Even Harry can tell - it’s that obvious, even though they’re quiet about it. They don’t even touch. Ody just drops Harry off with an introduction before excusing himself to go back to his rounds. Apparently, he likes ensuring all the first-years make it onto the train alright, and none of the other prefects like to stand around near the barrier waiting for Muggleborns.

There’s another teen in the compartment whom Ody introduced as Nestor, and he hasn’t spoken a word, though he glanced up when Ody entered, and nodded when Ody told them to look after Harry. He also gets up to help Harry stash his trunk away and opens Hedwig’s cage once Ody disappears again. The owl swoops up to perch on part of the rack above them before proceeding to preen her feathers.

“Hello, Harry,” Penelope smiles warmly at him as he tentatively takes a seat beside her. He finds himself smiling back before he’s really aware of it. “Looking forward to Hogwarts?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I- I only found out recently, about magic. There’s loads I want to learn.”

Penelope’s smile widens but it’s Nestor who chuckles and speaks next. “You’ll get along fine with Odysseus then. Man should’ve been a Ravenclaw.”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “Just because you want him with you doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, Nestor. It’s been five years; let it go.” She turns to Harry. “Nestor’s a Ravenclaw. He and Odysseus are best friends, and the issue of Houses is a long-standing argument even though he knows full well Odysseus is a Slytherin through and through.”

“I know no such thing!” Nestor grumbles, and Harry grins a little. He glances up at Penelope. “Are you a Ravenclaw? Or a Slytherin?”

Nestor snorts, and Penelope laughs airily. “Neither, I’m a Hufflepuff.”

“Oh,” Harry blinks. She… isn’t what he imagined a ‘lot o’ duffers’ to be like. He blushes a splotchy red when he sees Penelope leveling knowing look on him.

“You’ve heard less-than-commendable rumours about my House, I presume?” She shakes her head with a disappointed look but doesn’t seem offended. “I do hope you’re smart enough to make up your own mind about such things. Goodness, if Odysseus was judged by the-” Here she says a word that’s not in any language Harry recognizes, but it matches the accent that she, Ody, and Nestor speak with. “-in his House, you’d think he was a rising Dark Lord.”

“He could be,” Nestor smirks, and to Harry’s shock, Penelope smiles back, an edge of slyness tilting her lips. “Well yes, it’s Odysseus.”

“Isn’t-” Harry winces under the weight of both sixth-years’ stares. “Isn’t that bad though?”

Or was it a joke? Maybe he’s taking this too seriously.

Nestor leans back, absently picking up the newspaper beside him. “Dark Lords aren’t all as crazy as the last one, kid. They’re not all out to take over the world. To be a Dark Lord, you need power. You need cunning. You need ambition. You need conviction. And you need people loyal to your cause. Do any of those things sound particularly evil to you?”

Well, no, they didn’t. Things like ambition or power aren’t necessarily bad things. Not if you don’t go overboard.

“Go to Hogwarts, Harry,” Penelope advises kindly, taking pity on him. “Look at the world with an open mind. Look at the people without judging them by their colours or those they are associated with, and then decide for yourself what you want your place to be amongst us.”

Harry… doesn’t really understand. Not completely. But he nods anyway and memorizes her words. The conversation turns to lighter topics, and Harry eagerly pipes up with questions about classes when Penelope and Nestor prove perfectly willing to answer him.

The train starts, and Ody returns, a disgruntled air about him that doesn’t quite dissipate even after he shuts the door and sprawls down along the remaining free seats. Penelope huffs a delicate sound of amusement but moves to shift Ody’s head into her lap.

Nestor says something in that other language. Ody snaps something back in the same language, terse and irritable, but Nestor just sniggers and cracks open the newspaper. Ody rolls his eyes before his arm comes up to drape over them. Penelope combs her fingers through his hair, and Ody’s shoulders relax.

“What language is that?” Harry asks after a moment of silence.

Ody’s arm moves, and Harry is once again pierced by a dark grey eye, like Ody’s looking straight through into his soul.

“Greek,” The teen says after a few seconds, and his arm flops down to hang off the seat, fingers brushing the floor.

Harry’s eyes widen in astonishment. “Greek? But I thought- I mean, I know there are translations of it and stuff, but I heard that nobody really spoke that language anymore.”

“Not many do,” Ody confirms. “But some of us… well. Some of us still know it.”

His voice dips with something Harry can’t quite name, amusement maybe, but it sounds too dark for that, too… tired.

He looks around. Penelope is still smiling but it’s a little sadder now, and Nestor isn’t showing anything, hiding behind that newspaper of his.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

“Gringotts was robbed,” Nestor says abruptly, changing the subject. Harry’s glad to go along with it.

“Robbed?” Harry frowns. “But Hagrid said you’d have to be mad to try that.”

“Yes, quite mad,” Penelope murmurs, which only confuses Harry further.

“Odysseus, you hearing me?” Nestor continues almost impatiently. “Nobody was caught, and nothing was taken.”

“So it was almost robbed,” Harry concludes, and then wishes he kept his mouth shut because there was clearly more going on between the three sixth-years than just an almost-robbery.

But Nestor shakes his head, and then he folds up the newspaper and hurls it at Ody’s head with unerring accuracy. Ody catches it with one hand at the very last second without even looking. Harry is kind of impressed.

“I heard you,” Ody says lazily, passing the paper over to Harry, who perks up and quickly finds the article for himself. It was almost robbed but-

“Nothing was taken because what they wanted wasn’t there,” Ody sighs before finally sitting up again, shoulder brushing Penelope’s as he slouches back in his seat.

“It doesn’t say that,” Harry squints down at the paper.

Gentle fingers catch his chin and turn his head, and a tap of a wand later, Harry is blinking through glasses that look like they’ve never been broken, with not a single remaining blur left in his line of vision. “Oh wow, thanks!”

Penelope ruffles his hair. “Not a problem, Harry.”

“You can have your eyes corrected in this world with a potion,” Ody adds. “It’s why not many witches or wizards wear glasses. I could order one for you if you want.”

Harry’s eyes go round. He’s always hated his glasses because they’re a target for Dudley and his friends, and they’re a symbol of one of the few things Aunt Petunia bought him, only to sniff and tell him he’s too costly and too ungrateful about it.

“Could you?” Harry brightens hopefully. “I- I could pay you back but I don’t know the first thing about ordering potions.”

“I’ll show you,” Ody promises. “And you can consider it a gift. I have the funds for it so it’s hardly any trouble for me.”

Still, Harry hesitates, so Ody sighs and compromises, “Consider it part of your Yule gift from me then, alright?”

Harry’s mouth drops open. And then he snaps it shut and presses his lips together very very tightly.

Ody catches his eye, and there’s no sympathy there, just an age-old sort of understanding that somehow makes Harry feel safe and protected. The older teen looks away and starts another conversation with Nestor and Penelope, giving Harry time to pull himself together. By the time the food trolley arrives at their door, Harry is laughing outright over a story Nestor is telling him about one of his detentions. 

In that moment, Hogwarts doesn’t seem quite as daunting anymore, and it isn’t until he’s changing into his robes that he realizes he never got to ask how the three sixth-years knew that whatever the thief wanted to steal was no longer in the bank.