Percy Jackson at Hogwarts

Cold as Khione

Third PoV

The atmosphere was tense, harsh, nervous. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins alike all felt the pressure and growing animosity between the most famed two best friends of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Instead of loud chatter during mealtimes, there were anxious whispers, common hushes, and eyes that constantly found the figures of a dark-haired emerald-eye boy and a red haired, freckle-faced blue-eyed Weasley boy. All Slytherins complacent for once and no Gryffindors complaining about a green and silver-bannered house. Temporary peace in the brewing of whatever it is that hung like impending doom.

Even when not in the presence of the two feuding Gryffindors, the students of Hogwarts still felt the cloud of intensity that seems to hang over the magical campus. Friends seemed to be more careful and cooperative with each other, and those that fought collapsed in huge explosions. Somber, quiet, focused. The professors had never taught better classes.

This was not like the fight that happened during the Triwizard Tournament. This was bigger, angrier, and would end catastrophically. Heated glares throughout the day, and sorrowful hearts that weep at night. So stubborn and rooted in beliefs maybe misplaced. Confusion, frustration, neither willing to budge from their place. But what once started between to friends who might not be friends for long has since bloomed into a student-wide inclusion. Heat of the day, cold of the night, everyone could feel the crackling energy, the sparking tension that was too thick to cut with even a chainsaw.

Everything was cold, like ice, seen through the film of a winter thought gone. Cold walls, cold words, spilled from the dead lips of dead spirits. Not the cold of happy snowflakes and angels and snowmen, but of the harsh winds with rough hails and frozen windows. Eyes are shut, hearts are closed, not to close, don't be soft. Brewing, stewing, growing. Louder, heavier, messier, a potion for disaster. Not here—not yet, but coming—closer, nearer, deadlier.

This? This burning passion of hatred, angst, anger? This is only the calm before the storm.

§§

Whoo!

I know it's shorter, but it's hard writing the same situation twice.

Something's coming up, guys, something long hinted at. Any guesses as to what? —Whoo! I'm so EXCITED!

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