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Chapter Text

"Stop that!" Rachel hisses as Grover scuffs his hoof against the ground for the fifth time since they were dropped off here by Mrs O'Leary (thanks Percy).

He looks up at her in surprise - Rachel is usually pretty easygoing. "Sorry." he mutters then says nothing for a bit before coming out with a quiet, "It's cold.".

"We're in Scotland." she replies, more gently this time. Grover is clearly nervous: becoming Lord of the Wild has improved his confidence but that doesn't mean he's stopped worrying.

Grover scuffs his hoof against the ground again. "Why is your dad's…"

"Gala." she provides, "Corporate event, I wasn't really listening.". Rachel made a deal with her father a while ago so her presence is necessary but that does not mean she is going to pretend to care.

"… meeting in Scotland?"

Rachel shrugs. "Ben Nevis, remember?"

"Yeah." he mutters. It's not the thing that made him come but it's the thing that stopped him from backing out. Ben Nevis is the tallest mountain in Great Britain apparently. "Domesticated wilderness is better than nothing."

"Billionaires go crazy for 'wellness retreats'." Rachel sagely adds like she isn't one. Technically she isn't but she will be for as long as it takes to properly share her family's hoarded wealth when she inherits it. "And they'll at least pretend to care about the environment while you're talking to them about it."

Grover, well-versed in the deceit of mankind and gods and anyone in between, nods. He is sure to hear plenty of empty promises but he has got to try, has to keep hoping. "I hate speaking to people like that."

"I know."

"When's your dad getting here?"

"No idea." Her dad hadn't cared to ask how they were going to get here, just as long as Rachel came. He hadn't been too pleased by her plus one being another environmental campaigner but as he is one of those billionaires who pretends to care, she'd gotten her way. Her mom isn't coming, of course, too busy with her job to come with her husband or even think about her daughter. It's part of the reason Rachel keeps trying with her dad.

Grover scuffs his hoof against the ground for the seventh time. She gives up on saying anything after that.

The event goes well enough which really should have made them suspicious. Percy's luck is contagious. Grover manages to get chatting to several people, six of which seem to be taking him seriously. Three of them actually swear to do something, even though that something is vague.

(The most insulting thing is that after everything that happens next, none of the six keep their word. Clearly, caring is nothing in the face of greed.)

Grover thought it was going to go a lot worse, particularly when Rachel's dad arrived, looked him up and down, clucked his tongue and completely ignoring him, turned to Rachel.

"The pants." is all he said, disapprovingly.

"Shag pants are back in fashion." Rachel batted back smoothly, like a liar. Grover's not that good at lying yet but he's gotten a bit better according to the Hermes cabin who have taken it upon themselves to 'educate him in such matters'.

Mr. Dare inclined his head regally and then swept forward without as much as a backward glance to check that they were following. Somewhat resentfully, Grover hurried after him.

Both Rachel and Grover steered well clear of the alcohol when they arrived and that is partly how he met two of the six - they were talking about going sober in that obnoxious way that made him wonder if it was more for themselves or more for the papers.

Turns out, they were going to treat the issue of climate change exactly the same way. 

At the time, however, he had still been hopeful so he did his pitch and answered some questions and asked some so when Mr Dare finally came to bail him and Rachel out for the day, he was feeling tentatively happy.

Like an oblivious idiot.

"It's a good thing Annabeth isn't here!" Rachel shouts as they race through the woods, narrowly missing roots and branches and shrubs and rocks. Is the entire forest out to get them?

Grover, ahead of her, seeing as he has got the advantage of hooves, doesn't turn his head even the slightest. She doesn't blame him, could have happily lived out her days without being chased through a forest by a massive man eating spider. Rachel has never been more grateful for her sessions with the dryads. No one can keep up with them but now the man eating spiders cannot keep up with her.

"It's a good thing the Oracle's a snake!" Grover absolutely means that both ways because while he appreciates the spider's initial wariness for that reason, he would have appreciated it more if the Oracle could have given them an advanced warning. Just a little sign to get out of there, you know.

"It's a good thing we found a forest swimming in the Mist and were smart enough to wait for backup!" Annabeth and Percy are coming to pick them up so they could have waited and used Mrs O'Leary to shadow travel out of here. They should have waited.

They did not.

"It's a good thing we didn't get lost and accidentally find a forest with loads of Mist!"

Rachel doesn't answer for a while, too busy running for her life and once again thanking her lucky stars that despite not being as fast as a demigod (she is a mortal after all), she is fast enough to avoid the spider.

"It's a good thing the spider recognises the Lord of the Wild!" she eventually fires back. It does not recognise him as such, too trapped between domesticated and wild, not fully reconciled with its own nature.

"It's a good thing-" he starts then cuts himself off as he bodily crashes into a centaur. Grover doesn't know if the centaur's friendly or not but he hasn't really got many options so he spins around and screws his eyes shut and opens his mouth.

Rachel claps her hands over her ears and fights to stay rooted to the spot as the spider - and oh look there's another one and another one turn tail and flee at the pure sound of panic.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?"

Grover ignores her, turning back to the centaur to apologise and gets an arrow point against his throat for his trouble. 'Hey man, sorry for crashing into you' immediately morphs into "Oi!" which doesn't help his case but does answer the friendly or unfriendly question.

Rachel, out of things to throw after stunning a couple of spiders with well-aimed shots to the eyes, creeps forward a little, freezing when the centaur leans in towards Grover, sniffing ever so slightly. The centaur presses the arrow harder and then unexpectedly relents. She waits.

"Why do you smell of the wild humans?" The last word is spit out like a curse and honestly, they both get it. However. Grover is not human, he is a satyr and proud of that and so that's insulting.

"Hey!" he indignantly bleats.

"Excuse you!" Rachel mutters under her breath, forgetting that they can both hear. "Grover is Lord of the Wild."

The centaur snorts. "Am I to take it that you are Grover? A human as Lord of the Wild?" Grover very deliberately presses his lips shut. "I should take your tongue for that girl. Your kind are not welcome here."

He is still evaluating if this centaur fits in the friendly or unfriendly column. They might be a complete jerk but it doesn't seem like they're going to kill the two of them so friendly. Probably.

"Come, I'll escort you out."

For this centaur, escorting people out means having an arrow trained on them as you give them instructions to follow. It's not enough to warrant moving them back to the unfriendly column unless it turns out to be a trap.

Actually it is because that is the way their luck works. There will be a trap somehow, somewhere so the real question is: knowingly or unknowingly?

They'll probably get out of it. "Alive but very scathed." he quips to Rachel then reaches for his reed pipes.

"Very." she agrees and picks up a broken branch, pounding it again the floor. "If it flakes off, there's no point." It's an obvious weapon.

That doesn't mean Grover will stop being impressed. "How do you manage to turn everything into a weapon?"

"Not everything."

He tugs her hair in response. She'd once plaited it just so that she could turn and smack a guy in the face with it and pretend it was an accident.

"Man, Juniper was so proud-" How long have they been gone? "She's going to kill me." Percy's supposed to come get them and he is going to panic which will make Annabeth panic and Annabeth's going to gut him.

Great.

"She is." Rachel confirms and is that a smile on her face? The traitor. 

Is it worth trying to get away from the centaur? He is more scared of his girlfriend and Annabeth than this guy because they're not actually doing anything that bad, just potentially leading them to their deaths and trying to shoot them with their eyes.

Standard stuff really. A day in the life and all that. This kind of stuff happens on a regular basis which should be more concerning than it is.

He must look really terrified because Rachel offers him her hand, making no mention of his clammy palms when he takes it. He can pretend all he wants that this isn't scary anymore but it still is.

At long, long last, they finally make it out of the forest. "Ooh." Rachel whistles. There's a castle in front of them, covered in even more Mist than the forest which shouldn't be possible, given how he was wondering if he could choke on it in the forest. It's blurring in and out of focus for him, a satyr.

"Here is where I leave you, humans." The centaur snarls. "Do not come back."

Despite the man eating spiders and the unfriendly centaur, Grover is already missing the forest. Here they are stranded, far, far away from where they're supposed to be and very, very late. To top it all off, they are out in the open. Totally exposed.

Grover gulps. 

"Let's go." Rachel prompts, thumb pointed towards the white castle. With little else to do, he acquiesces.

"I wish I had a camera." Grover bemoans at one point during their trek because Annabeth might be less likely to murder him then. A picture of an ancient castle in exchange for mercy is the best shot he can think of.

Rachel snickers and Grover is precisely 100% sure he is not going to like whatever she comes up with.

"She might not put you 'under wood' then." she can barely get it out, too busy laughing and once again, Grover wishes he could curse whoever came up with that pun on his name. (He won't risk it. The arai might make a reappearance.) "Annabeth won't kill us."

Easy enough for her to say. They both know that it is Grover Annabeth will be after, not her. Rachel is safe.

"A picture of the castle-"

Look when you're a demigod or involved in demigod lives or say a Satyr and a mortal who hosts the spirit of the Oracle of Delphi, you attack first, ask questions later. Or you defend first and ask questions later. Either.

So when a loud chuckle cuts Grover off and he jumps about five feet in the air, his first instinct is to seize his bagpipes. Having fought in one or two battles and plenty of skirmishes, he sees Rachel stealthily draw a dagger out of the corner of his eye.

And, when you are a demigod or demigod adjacent, you learn how to step in it by accidentally blurting something out.

"Why didn't you use that earlier?" he hisses at Rachel. It is partly in panic - it's looking like all of the women in his life apart from Juniper have a fondness for blades and that is terrifying and he is sure that sooner or later Annabeth's going to bring her around and partly in annoyance because that probably could have done a lot more damage to the spiders.

"It's a short range weapon!" Rachel complains. "I'm sorry but I didn't want to be that close to the giant man eating spiders!"

"Short-range?" the old man questions, his neon orange robes shifting as he strokes his beard. "I know that you use foci instead of wands but I hadn't realised that they had different ranges. May I, my dear?"

She may be mortal but Rachel is no fool when it comes to battle. Handing over her dagger is not an option. You do not give away your only weapon. You also carry more than one. Rachel hands him the branch.

"A staff!" he declares, delighted. "Why, they haven't been in fashion since my mother was young!"

So far, this is going well. The guy is crazy but he isn't attacking yet. The old and senile act is nothing new, however, so Grover is not going to lower his guard. The man swishes the staff as though it is a skirt.

Nothing happens.

Grover knows that he cannot look at Rachel else they will both start laughing. As a distraction technique, it is clever. The man in the robes spins away from them.

Nothing happens.

He hands Rachel the branch. "A very loyal focus you have there, my dear. It doesn't seem to react to my magic at all."

"Magic?" Rachel questions, low enough that no mortal ears hear, head tilted down to disguise the movement of her lips.

"Trivia?" Grover returns, loud enough for human ears. The man has no way of knowing that they are referring to the goddess after all. Rachel's face scrunches up in concentration a tiny wisp of green emerges from her mouth.

"Shielded." she mutters then catches his eyes and look up at the sky. "Interference."

"Welcome, of course, to Hogwarts." The man greets.

"Of course." Rachel replies. When she reaches out with her branch like she is going to poke him, Grover dutifully nods. If he speaks, he is sure to give something away.

"As you know, I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."

They do not in fact know that. "Of course." Rachel politely repeats and so Grover nods again, a little more naturally this time.

Albus Dumbledore smiles and swings open the heavy-looking door. Heart in his throat, they step through, instincts screaming that this is a trap.

This is a trap.

You would think that by now, Grover would have learnt to listen to his instincts. Well he did but he has also brought in four big three children and a son of Hermes and Annabeth and the only way he knows to deal with a trap is to spring it.

He keeps silent as Rachel does the lying - yes we are the exchange students that you are expecting, oh I know those are two girls names but one of us is somewhere between male and non-binary and really, you should know better than to judge gender like that, the culture where we come from is in fact completely different so we'll need some guidance - maybe act as though we don't know anything.

Grover might have broken a rib from holding in that wheeze.

The silence isn't a productive sort so as the back and forth goes on, Grover tries to think. Tries.

There is a knot in his stomach and fingers pressing in- on- through his rib cage and it hurts and he feels quite lightheaded. Trying to regulate his breathing doesn't work. It doesn't work and Grover is seized by panic.

Neither Rachel nor the Headmaster notice. He doesn't trust the Headmaster anyway so that might be for the better.

Rachel needs backup but he doesn't- can't- a hand clamps around his lungs and squeezes and suddenly he is nearly wheezing for a completely different reason than earlier.

He needs to get a grip.

In a move that would be foolish if not born out of desperation and possibly still is, he screws his eyes shut, plunging into darkness. Sometimes the only way to get down from the edge is to suppress some stimuli. Vision is an easier sense than the others, both because it can be more overwhelming and because all he has to do is close his eyes.

Five seconds. Opening his eyes only to have to slam them shut again is annoying but at least it is starting to work. 

Ten seconds. Nope, not a chance.

Fifteen. Doable.

"Can we…" Rachel makes a vague gesture. "I'm a bit tired."

"Ah yes. You must be worn after your day. I'll get Minerva to- actually, I'll show you to your quarters myself. It's always good to go for a walk at this time."

This is a trap. The beds they get are out of a magazine - four poster marvels with soft drapes and a mattress that gives Crusty's a serious run for their money. Dumbledore leaves them there to settle in, having accepted Grover's status as not quite a boy since the stairs didn't turn into a slide. The Headmaster wasn't even kidding.

This is a trap.

All the hairs raise on the back of his neck and the atmosphere changes once the Headmaster leaves. There is something charged around them now and Grover blinks.

There is a woman in the centre of the room that they think they recognise, given that they are going off secondhand descriptions. The Mist is wrapped around her like a cocoon and in her hands she bears twin torches, both blazing with fire. Her face is the most worrying: set in incandescent rage.

Chapter Text

If not speaking and just standing there glowering is Hecate's intimidation tactic, Rachel can attest to it working. Her arms are not even crossed, busy dutifully carrying her twin torches but her eyes are burning just as brightly as their flames. 

"Lady Hecate."

Rachel refuses to cower - but she does bend her head because there is a line between respect and fear. Percy hasn't learnt to appreciate the distinction yet. Percy isn't here. He will be soon. Hopefully.

The first thing the goddess says (hisses really) is far from unexpected. "You are not supposed to be here!" The fire flares, in tune with her temper or her tone - maybe both.

Rachel debates whether or not to say something. It's not like she wants to be here but for some reason, she thinks that Hecate does not want to hear that, no matter how important it seems. She glances over to Grover, whose heart rate has definitely gone through the roof. He smiles wanly at her.

"Then we can go."

She would be happy to go back to Camp for a day or two, a well-deserved reprieve from going wherever her dad wants her to. Grover nods next to her, equally as eager to spend some time with his girlfriend and friends. They can tell the story around the campfire and laugh when the others roast the people who were there, including themselves. Rachel wants to go to Camp.

Hecate is not onboard. The goddess shakes her head, a small and sharp movement with all of the grace you would expect from an immortal.

"Had you done the reasonable thing and left once you discovered the forest then perhaps." That is a distinctly unfair judgement. Neither of them protest. "Now that you have interacted with the creatures and the Headmaster, as well as entered the castle, such a thing will be difficult. You noticed the Mist?"

It does not sound like a question, clipped as her tone is but Grover responds before Rachel has finished processing that it isn't meant to be rhetoric.

"Yes, my Lady. We saw the Mist and decided to c-"

"Decided to trespass? Yes, I am aware." That is also unfair in that the goddess first insulted them and is now interrupting them. Rachel will admit, however, that leaving might have been appropriate and that they might be trespassing. On the other hand, investigating and trespassing is part of saving the world so…

Hecate sighs and begins to pace, turning away from them. Can she sense their lack of guilt?

"So… what happens now?"

There is only so long that Grover and Rachel can watch Hecate trying to wear down the stones beneath her feet. Watching other's nervousness exacerbates the satyr's own and Rachel is still a bit strained from socialising with those… with her father's 'friends'.

"Seeing as you have successfully been enrolled, it might be pertinent for you to stay a little longer." The admission is grudging and Rachel fully understands the goddess's reluctance.

"What? But what about my mission and Camp and-" Grover abruptly stops when he realises that he has just shouted. At a goddess. At the goddess of the Mist. The tips of his ears are a flaming pink-red and he bows his head solemnly. "I'm sorry Lady Hecate."

"I am assigning you a quest." the goddess says, face as smooth and cold as the marble she is often depicted in. "If necessary, I had hoped to assign it to two half-bloods and perhaps a third but I see now that the Fates have other plans. Grover Underwood, Lord of the Wild, pick your other companions. Two are non-negotiable but the fifth, the sixth and the seventh are up to you."

Eyes screwed shut, Rachel hopes that IM's do in fact work here. They have agreed to give it ten seconds before they check because as much as Rachel appreciates her friends, she would rather wait until they are done in the shower before speaking to them. Since the Incident, both of the Camps have enforced new rules.

"Hazel?"

There is a sort of scuffling sound that could have come from the other side of an IM and then a calmer, "Hi, you can open your eyes.".

The daughter of Pluto is sitting at a desk that borders a second empty one, presumably Frank's. Her tone is friendly but puzzled - understandable since they are not that close. Hazel is a friend of a friend (in this case friends).

"How's Frank?" Grover asks, not ready to come out with it yet. Hazel frowns a little then amiably lets them know that Frank is okay, just a bit stressed out from Praetor duties and everything's fine really, why are they calling? Rachel winces when she mentions duties. Hazel notices.

"Has something come up?"

"It's not bad news." Grover asserts. "But... it's not exactly good news." Hazel hums discontentedly and Grover start to wilt under the force of two expectant stares. "Hecate has given us-"

"You." 

"-me a quest."

Never let it be said that Hazel cannot read between the lines. It helps that she has prior experience with this goddess - experience with any goddess will do here to be honest. Probably any god too. Slowly, realisation dawns across her face and the shutters slam down. "Do you need some help?" she vainly asks.

"Well, when I said 'us', I didn't mean me and Rachel." he awkwardly explains.

"Rachel and I." she absentmindedly corrects. Annabeth would if she were here. Rachel's sure she is grimacing again.

"Us." Hazel repeats slowly. "As in you and me?"

Their silence is answer enough.

Hazel groans and buries her head in her arms. An arm reaches up to pull off her hairband. Grover taps his hoof and Rachel nearly groans out of frustration. Not this again. She is tired and cranky and they still have to break the news to four more people plus whoever else they have to tell that they need a timeout.

"Listen, man, I'm sorry... Lady Hecate said your presence was 'non-negotiable'."

"Of course." the demigod murmurs before she wearily lifts her head. Her eyes gleam gold as she fixes them with a resigned stare. "Details?"

This time, both Rachel and Grover wince.

"Can I talk to Juniper next?"

Rachel takes the hint. "I'll find somewhere to wait for Percy and Mrs O'Leary then." They decided in the end that they may as well wait for Percy to show up in person before breaking the news but the hellhound is not going to fit in the room and Rachel appreciates having a nice bed, a luxury on a quest, so she makes her way out, hoping that she remembers right.

She is in the middle of deciding whether or not that staircase has moved and if she should go down it or not before she is disturbed.

"Erm... do you need a hand?"

Whirling around so quickly that if she was wearing a ponytail, it would smack her in the face, Rachel peers at the boy in front of her. He is wearing robes with gold and red fringes. The red isn't that flattering seeing as his hair is also red. He has a badge with 'P' on it pinned to his chest and the way he stands makes it stick out a bit, as if proud. Since he is offering to help her, Rachel doesn't think about that too much.

"Yes, please." Her American accent seems to surprise him (or maybe it's just her voice) because he startles. Rachel pretends not to notice. "Do you know the way outside?"

"Outside?"

"By the forest?" The boy nods once and does not go down that staircase, instead leading her to the other staircase, opposite it. At her incredulous look, he reminds her that the staircases move about.

"I'm new."

The boy - she should ask his name - falters. "It's nearly December!" he protests.

Rachel shrugs. "I'm an exchange student. Annabelle Chadwick."

"Percy Weasley." he automatically replies and then he makes a strange expression, unsure. "I didn't know we had an exchange program." Neither did she. Rachel gives him a cursory shrug and he stops talking so she focuses on the path they are taking.

"What's the 'P' for?" she asks as they near the doors.

"Prefect. Do they have that where you go?"

The academy her father sent her to did. Camp does not. "No, not really. What do you do? How do you become a Prefect?"

"It's a responsibility entrusted to me by my Head of House." Percy says seriously. "It means I look out for the younger students and make sure that everyone is behaving and help younger students who are struggling."

So a bit pompous but dedicated. Rachel can accept that. He sounds passionate when he talks about it, although whether that is because he was trusted with the position of because he genuinely enjoys his duties, she doesn't know. Maybe both?

"I hope to see you in Gryffindor." he says as she waves goodbye. Rachel still knows nothing clearly since 'Gryffindor' is not ringing any bells. Hecate didn't give them much to go on, just a reading list and a two minute 'chat' which was really just her making snide comments for one minute and fifty seconds and revealing that the wizards here are descendants of Legacies in the ten seconds she had left.

The lake is dark and calm, glimmering slightly with the rays of the setting sun. Rachel sets herself down and wishes that she had a canvas and palette with her. Instead, she opts to visually explore the landscape - squinting a little in the direction of the willow tree, bordering the forest. Being out here on her own isn't necessarily a good idea but she gets a feeling that's she's not going to be alone for long so she lies back on the cool grass and watches the gradient of the sky change.

Percy arrives on Mrs O'Leary just as the sun beyond the horizon and sunset fades into twilight. It's not dusk yet but there isn't much light in the sky now, which is probably for the best considering the hellhound's appearance. They will need to go in soon.

"Come on, get up." the son of Poseidon prompts and Rachel ignores him for a while minute before finding the strength to get up.

"Come on, sit down." she mocks and he flops down next to her then leans on her shoulder, pushing more and more with every passing second.

"Hey!"

He doesn't move so she does, quickly and efficiently, manoeuvring out of the way so that all he is leaning against is air. Percy falls to the ground and they they are both laughing. Rachel thinks about talking then, about the new quest that he is definitely going to join but decides that they can have this moment.

She never knows if there will be another one or not.

Predictably, Annabeth is not pleased. Grover shifts, face bowed with guilt, as she unhappily grumbles her complaints. She eventually runs out of steam before reaching an arm out as it to pat Grover on the shoulder before remembering that this is an IM and that he is currently on the other side of the world, trapped in yet another school.

"This had better not end up with me holding the sky again." Rachel is the only one to laugh. Percy and Grover look as though they have just been slapped and Juniper and Hazel gape from behind Annabeth.

"I can't go home if all my hair goes gray! Mom would kill me!" It's not as funny as Percy intended it to be, not when they both have a streak from the sky and several more from… the subsequent events. Annabeth smiles regardless before she adopts her planning face (that she will never admit exists). They all straighten on instinct.

"What did Hecate tell you?"

Rachel shrugs, "Not much.".

"The people here are descendants of Legacies." Grover responds. "Their magic isn't quite the same as the Mist but she didn't explain the difference."

"Can you tell whether it's diluted or mutated?"

Hazel scrunches up her nose. "Mutated? I didn't know that was possible."

"You probably know more about the Mist than me." A young Annabeth would never have said that out loud and Grover nearly smiles, proud. "Could it mutate? If it was diluted enough that different people picked up different aspects of it and then their children inherited different combinations?"

The conversation is veering into biological inheritance, a topic Hazel certainly knows less than Annabeth about. "I don't know… Maybe?"

Juniper bites her lip, as though deciding whether or not to do something. "The quest first?" She is not usually so tentative - the stress is likely getting to her.

"Right, sorry. Grover, are you leading the quest?"

Grover bleats. His last quest was to find Pan and that went not so well. "It was supposed to be you or Hazel. That's where the names come from." He normally appreciates Annabeth's ability to multitask but as a teasing grin breaks out across her face, it feels like it is not worth it. Percy's head snaps towards him, eyes glowing.

"I'm Annabelle Chadwick and this is Hailey Levelle."

Even his girlfriend laughs at Grover. He nearly curses all of them (but doesn't, can't, not after hearing about the arai). Annabeth is the first to be forgiven.

"Then I'll be Elizabeth Chadwick. Hazel? Juniper?"

Juniper is the first to speak, raises her chin and locks eyes with him. "June. June Peterson." She's not happy either, he can tell yet she has still decided to come. Grover blinks rapidly, trying to delay the inevitable.

"Hayleigh Levelle." Hazel adds. "We can write it differently right?"

Everyone else looks between Hazel and Grover, notes that they don't look at all alike and shrugs. They'll cross that bridge when they come to it.

"I'll be… Perry Johnson."

Annabeth and Grover snort in unison. "Do we owe Mr D. a sacrifice?"

Percy grins back unashamedly. Hazel shakes her head, a fond smile fixed to her face. 

"So Grover…" Rachel starts, a devious grin on her face. "Hay or Lee?" Grover splutters indignantly and Hazel burst into laughter, reflexively covering her mouth with her hands before remembering that no one here is going to judge her for how ladylike it may or may not be.

"Maybe you can be Lee and I can be Hay?"

"I'm just gonna stick to G-Man." Percy counters. "Man, some people have the weirdest nicknames."

"Grogu." Juniper offers, only to be met by the incredulous states of three pairs of eyes. Hazel sidles quietly up to Annabeth.

"What's Grogu?"

"He's a character in a series of popular films." Annabeth explains, just as Juniper suggests 'Gru'.

"How do you even know those names?"

"Athena cabin film nights." Juniper casually responds. "We binged Star Wars a few weeks ago and we watched Despicable Me last time. I think someone said something about a proper Ghibli run through next time?"

Athena film club nights are legendary. They have at least a 7D cinema and how that works in their cabin, no one knows, not even the Hephaestus kids. Food is taken just as seriously - there's all the snacks you could expect which would be more impressive if Camp didn't have plates that give you literally anything but most people haven't cottoned on yet. The film club has never been caught or successfully crashed. It's Athena kids only. Or was.

"Juniper is my replacement when I'm not at Camp." Three sets of shocked eyes turn towards Annabeth, wounded now. She smirks.

"That makes sense: it's easier for you three to go see a movie than it is for Juniper."

"But Hazel," Percy whines, "the 7D experience! The-"

"The secrecy! The mystique!"

"The snacks!"

"Hazel, you don't understand!" they chorus and she smiles innocently at them. Too innocently. "Wait…"

Hazel has, in fact, never been. Neither Annabeth nor Juniper call her out on it.

"We'll be there tomorrow."

Cheerfully, Annabeth brings forward an arm to disrupt the rainbow, closing the connection before they can complain more.

Rachel wishes that she could say that she was surprised by Percy not getting the memo to shut up and go to bed and let Annabeth sort everything out over there. She really wishes she could. Maybe then, she could be happily asleep in the bed that feels like a cloud but she can hear him talking in the hastily arranged neighbouring room.

Tricking Dumbledore into thinking that there were actually supposed to be seven exchange students but that one had decided to instead take a year out so would be in the area but wouldn't be enrolling was laughably easy. Either she's getting too used to lying and he's gullible or he doesn't believe a word out of her mouth and he's just playing along.

If he is playing along and they had brought Tyson, he wouldn't have kept playing along, would be able to recognise him as a Cyclops. Better not to risk it. It's certainly not what Hecate had in mind for their seventh quest mate but Grover was feeling nostalgic and besides, it might prove useful to have someone on the outside.

Percy hasn't hung up so Rachel strains her ears, managing to catch one side of the conversation. Annabeth's voice is too quiet to understand. It wouldn't be for a satyr but said satyr is already snoring.

"…I can’t believe you haven't let me come yet!"

"You asked the others?"

Rachel must be quite tired because she doesn't laugh at his pointless enthusiasm - he's not being let in, of that she's sure.

"If we get married?"

"I get it. It's because we're eternally engaged, isn't it?"

She falls asleep then, Percy's hushed voice somehow helping rather than hindering. He could start a career reading bedtime stories. It would be a career a demigod could do - flexible. Usually it's hard to find a job; Demigods don't get futures.

"G'Night."

Chapter Text

Packing for a new quest so soon after the last one ended is not Hazel's idea of fun. Most of her things were lost when Zeus slapped them across the sky and having to do this just reminds her of the things that are missing - a present from her brother and Frank, a souvenir from her first quest, a picture of her, Piper and Annabeth taken by the pinhole camera Leo absentmindedly made.

It's nothing that can't be replaced. None of it was worth someone's life but it was hers. It was hers and after so long with no material possessions, trapped in the Fields of Asphodel with only the illusion of clothes to call her own and nothing else, she had been overjoyed to have things. Memories made solid. Tokens of affection from friends.

All of them gone and none of them were worth the price she would have had to pay to save them.

She shakes her head as though the physical movement can dispel the sadness that has seeped in and turns her attention back to packing. Her SPQR t-shirts will have to stay here.

"Hazel?" Frank stands at the doorway of the barracks, one arm by his side and the other resting against the doorway. He's wearing an SPQR t-shirt. The purple is as comforting as painful. When he shifts slightly, her eyes are instead drawn to the subtle flexing of muscles in his left arm and she sends him a small smile, trying to ignore the part of her that worries that Frank has changed and not for the better. It's silly. She knows that.

"It's going to be a long quest." Hazel tells him in lieu of a hello. "I don't know how long yet."

He shifts again, definitely uncomfortable this time. "Hazel…"

"I love you." she admits, blushing slightly at saying that out loud so brazenly. "I…" Why is it so hard to say what she needs to? "I want this to work but I'll be in Scotland for maybe a year and you have Praetor duties."

He doesn't say anything.

"And I know you've had Praetor duties and I've had Centurion duties but it's only been two months and I don't know if-"

"Hazel." A calloused hand gently reaches for hers. "I get it." She lets him hold her hand, raising her head slightly to better look at his face. He looks… he looks like he's been expecting this. She doesn't know how he saw it coming. She didn't. "People are different in war. I think… I think we both need time to find out who we are without it." He looks as nervous as her by the end of it. She squeezes his hand then lets go.

"Help me pack?" It's a plea rather than a question but he acquiesces and helps her stuff some unicorn nectar into her backpack. They don't speak, ignore the way their hands brush against each other as he hands her the medical tape, gauze and bandages.

When at last she is finished, Hazel stands on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. Frank doesn't return it, just wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her in so that her face is hidden against his chest. Neither of them acknowledge that their faces are wet.

Gwen's face is beaming as she opens the apartment door. "Your voice hasn't changed at all!" The block Gwen lives in - along with all the other blocks in New Rome - has a pad at the door that lets you call any of the door numbers.

Hazel's former centurion gave her her address a month after war had ended, insisted on writing it down "somewhere you won't forget" and told her that she was always welcome. She seems rather pleased to see her and Hazel wishes she could have warned her in advance but they don't use IMs as much as Camp Half-Blood and she wanted to deliver this message in person.

"You can sit on the chair. Let me just…" Gwen hastily picks up the jumper strewn across the seat and sets herself down on the carpet, gesturing for Hazel to take the chair. She does.

"So… what's going on?"

Wordlessly, Hazel offers her the vine staff she has been carrying, slightly surprised it wasn't noticed earlier. Gwen's smile turns strained before she lets it go, face falling into a frown.

"How long is the quest?"

Hazel fiddles with the staff, taking a sense of comfort from the familiar weight. "A year." Gwen whistles. "It's supposed to be a year."

"Hazel, I - are you sure there isn't anyone else you can ask? I'm retired." Her voice is steady but her hands are trembling. The former senior Centurion has no wish to return, not after becoming Centurion Shish-Kebab. It's not like Hazel particularly wants to be here, asking her but she hasn't got much choice.

"No." she responds then quietly tacks on, "I think Lavinia might…" Might what? "She's not ready yet but maybe…"

Gwen nods understandingly. "Centurion Hazel Levesque of the Fifth Cohort, I, Gwen Roberts, former Senior Centurion of the Fifth Cohort accept your nomination to act as Centurion in your stead for the duration of your quest."

The words aren't exactly right: Hazel should have said something herself and they need at least one witness but the burden on her shoulders lightens slightly, weighing down on Gwen's instead. It's probably selfish of her to feel glad but she can't help it.

"It's okay." Gwen whispers, reaching out to wipe one of the tears she didn't realise she was shedding away, broadcasting her movements the whole time then giving her her second hug of the day. It's the second one she has received from Gwen too. It's too comforting.

Hazel pulls back, wipes her cheeks and focuses. "We need a witness."

"Frank?"

"I want to say goodbye to Jason." He's not a Praetor but he is Pontifex Maximus and the Legion trusts his word. Hazel thinks of their run in with Sciron, about how she had feared he might not save her. About how he talked about Nico, trapped in that jar. She didn't trust him then.

She does now.

Annabeth is pretty easy to spot, talk and striking, even with the way her long blonde hair gently curls. There's a dryad with her that Hazel vaguely recognises - a running instructor maybe? She'd been stunned the first time she learned about how much the Greeks valued the fau-satyrs and dryads. It's something Frank wants to try implementing in Camp Jupiter.

"Hazel!"

The daughter of Athena waves, face not exactly soft but softer. She is grateful for the reprieve, hurries over to her friend who is also bearing a stuffed backpack. So is the dryad. Her friend says something to the dryad that she can't hear and they turn to face her.

"Hi." she greets, "I'm Juniper. You're Hazel, aren't you? I was sorta wondering if you were like me." Hazel's pretty sure she isn't a tree. That dubious honor belongs to Thalia, who'd dragged her off for some ‘cousin bonding' and made them spill their guts. (Annabeth was there too as Thalia's little sister, Percy's girlfriend and Jason's secret twin. Neither Nico nor Hazel, her friends, had protested.)

Hazel laughs a little, internally wincing at how awkward it sounds. When bored into by two pair of pleading eyes, Annabeth's only response is a deliberate tap of her right foot. The silence grows exponentially more awkward with every passing second. "How are we getting there?"

"Arion?"

It doesn't hurt to try. She cups her hand around her mouth, closes her eyes and imagines him as best as she can, calling out his name. There is no blur over the horizon when she squints. A minute. Two. Three.

"What's your backup plan?" she hears Juniper ask Annabeth. The dryad is shaking slightly - nervous? "Grover said you always have a backup plan even if most of the time Percy does something so you keep having to create new plans and no long and complicated ones. Apparently you work really well together though so it doesn't matter in the end and-"

Annabeth makes a face. It's clear that whatever this other idea is, she doesn't like it. Juniper doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm excited!" she continues, "I know I shouldn't be since it usually goes all wrong and scary but this is my first quest so I get to be excited, don't I? I'm still a bit scared though…" She shivers. Hazel turns her attention back to the horizon, hoping that that blob is actually moving, isn't just some part of the landscape that she didn't notice earlier.

Someone steps up to stand by her side. Hazel glances over to see Annabeth glancing at her vine staff. Whether she recognises it or not, Hazel isn't sure but she doesn't say anything, just looks away and beckons Juniper over. The blur grows bigger and bigger until at last, Arion comes to a stop before them.

"Hello boy." she fondly mutters, stroking his flank and summoning some chunks of gold - his favourite meal. That's probably why he likes her so much: he keeps getting expensive free food. "How do you feel about Scotland?"

Arion likes Scotland enough to run as fast as he can and Hazel thanks the gods for Annabeth's foresight because she wouldn't have had anything to eat or drink before they got there otherwise. And there is a mountain so she's definitely not getting anything to eat here either. They should have brought a child of Ceres.

It's too late for that now.

Arion likes Scotland enough to run away from the forest as fast as he can, doesn't even expectantly wait for food. That alone has her spooked.

The forest drenched in Mist that they are apparently going to have to traverse doesn't help matters. Nor do the apparent homicidal fun-sized jumbo spiders who will definitely be out for Annabeth's blood.

"I can hear them screaming." Juniper's tone is far too flat, her face blank as though she is under a spell. Hazel shivers a little and stares resolutely at the forest, trying not to think about those endless fields and aimless souls and how it felt to be all alone. "Can't you hear them? They're crying. Begging. Something's wrong. They're all screaming."

Hazel stumbles towards her, legs like jelly and backside sore after about six hours of nonstop riding. Annabeth gets there first, placing a grounding hand on Juniper's shoulder. "Juniper?"

The dryad ignores her, still muttering and begins to stride forward. Her green skin is almost pastel yellow. Annabeth seems fine, hasn't stopped looking like a typical California girl. Hazel looks down at her own hands to make sure, glad that coffee bean brown hasn't become caramel.

Juniper continues onwards, now enshrouded by the Mist and the second her foot comes down in the forest, she crumples. Dead plants sprout around her foot, vines beginning to creep up her legs until Annabeth heaves her up into her arms.

"Help me." she grunts. Together, they manage to move Juniper so she is straddling Annabeth's back. Her arms hang loosely over Annabeth's shoulders.

"Maybe tilt forward a bit more?" Hazel suggests. Juniper's legs tightly are tightly gripped in the daughter of Athena's hands but it might not be enough to keep her on, especially as the dryad is surprisingly heavy - somewhere between the weight of a spirit and a tree. If Annabeth has to run…

"Hazel, is there a way under?"

Under? Ohh. As a daughter of Pluto, she has an affinity for the underground and if there's a tunnel, Hazel will find it. She stretches her senses into the ground and pulls. It moves far more sluggishly than usual and she wonders if that's a reflection of her tiredness or not.

She blinks, opening her eyes, to see the newly made hole at her feet. There's a stone slab a few feet in but no glowing blue delta and she hears Annabeth sigh in relief. A simple palm against the slab dislodges it and she looks expectantly at the blonde, who is rooting around her backpack with one hand. It's resting on her chest rather than her back - like those tourists Hazel sometimes sees - and with a triumphant cry, Annabeth retrieves three head torches.

They decide to strap one onto to Juniper, even if they don't light it yet. Hazel closes the tunnel behind them and the slides the slab back and together, they plunge deeper into the darkness.

Juniper doesn't wake up, not even as she jolts on Annabeth's back. Hazel clears the gaps in the rocks easily but the daughter of Athena has to be more careful, nearly misses twice. It's not even remotely the most dangerous thing that Hazel has seen her so but her heart is in her mouth anyway.

"Shouldn't she have woken up?" she asks. "We could try some unicorn draught or some Ambrosia."

"Ambrosia would kill her." Annabeth dismisses, "Does draught work on dryads?"

Hazel doesn't know. Camp Jupiter didn't interact with the spirits and fauns as much as Camp Half-Blood does. Does unicorn draught work on dryads? She doesn't want to test it, not when Juniper is only unconscious for now. The dryad isn't bleeding out or anything but the longer she takes to wake up, the more worrying it is. "I don't know. Umm… Annabeth, how is she here? I thought dryads were tied to their trees?"

"They are but Juniper can be away from her tree for short amounts of time as long as she takes some of her berries with her. Since this isn't a short quest, I'm guessing that Grover made a deal with Hecate." It would explain why Juniper has a branch sticking out of her backpack. It's a bit more substantial than berries. It doesn't explain why Annabeth has one too.

"Why have you got a branch?"

"I've got two." Annabeth says dryly. "The Stolls overheard the bit about the Headmaster thinking that Rachel's was a staff so they kindly procured an olive branch for me."

Hazel stifles a laugh. "And the other one?"

"Driftwood. A gift for Percy apparently." This time she does laugh. There's a theme going on here. The sound echoes slightly but distorts, sounds more like groans than laughter.

"What about Grover?"

"He's got his reed pipes." Until Hazel had seen the satyr in action, she hadn't appreciated the true value of reeds and music. Despite its unconventionality, his weapon is far from useless. "What about you?"

She reached for her vine staff, certain now that Annabeth knows what it is. Hazel says as much. 

"The mark of a centurion. Used both to indicate direction and as a cane to reprimand soldiers under their command." She never has and never will use it to discipline the soldiers under her. They lapse into silence.

"It was Gwen's." Hazel admits after some trudging forward, a few awkward ducks and some incredibly thin ledges. "She let me keep it. Said she'd get another."

She doesn't see as much as hear Annabeth's smile when she tells her that she deserves it. Hazel smiles a bit too, at least until the rock under her crumbles and she has to leap suddenly back. Focus, she reminds herself but nearly loses her footing again when she hears a small rumble.

"Hazel," Annabeth says desperately, "if it's the spiders, I don't know if I can… Tell me to close my eyes."

"Okay." Hazel concedes. There's no point trying to reassure Annabeth that it isn't the giant spiders tunnelling down, not when it could be. It would be just their luck. She remembers how shaken Annabeth was after her solo quest, remembers the webbing tugging her over, remembers her friends falling, remembers seeing them again looking like corpses, remembers her relief when they got up to try to fight, remembers nearly crying every time she realised that they had put on weight.

Let it be spiders. Hazel is the daughter of Pluto and this is her element. She won't let any harm come to either of her quest mates. Closing her eyes, Hazel uses the Mist to shorten the distance between themselves and the end of the tunnel, cursing herself for not thinking of it before.

As the groaning begins to sound more like scrabbling, Hazel breaks out into a light jog, willing the end closer. Annabeth quietly whimpers but doesn't falter, hot on her heels.

The scrabbling grows more insistent. Hazel wills harder and speeds up, determined not to encounter whatever it is that is making that noise. There's something ahead of them that's encased by stone. It might just be an air pocket but if they can get there then she might just be able to pull this off. Hazel nearly trips and falls to her death every ten seconds but they are getting there.

It's the mouth of the tunnel, not a pocket but Hazel doesn't care - the top is sealed so the only way in is the tunnel. She ushers Annabeth and Juniper in just as a black limb reaches towards them. The tunnel collapses, crushing whatever it is to dust and Hazel takes the opportunity to catch her breath, sinking to the ground.

Annabeth sets Juniper down then squeezes her shoulder before clambering up to test the discoloured patch of earth. Hazel hugs her knees to her chest and fights to keep her eyes open, wincing when piercing sunlight enters.

She pleads with Annabeth to close it but the daughter of Athena climbs higher, does not hear her pleas. Hazel tries again, vainly. Unsteadily she rises to her feet, crying out as she scrapes her knee against the rough stone. Immediately, blood wells up and it's all Hazel can do to lower herself back down. Cool water hits her leg and Hazel blinks woozily, looking up into Juniper's open eyes. She blinks and Annabeth's face comes into view.

Hazel musters up a smile.

Chapter Text

The first night, Percy does not sleep. He messages Annabeth until she has to go and lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling until the sun starts to rise again and then gets up. The rest of the day is spent imitating a zombie, a being he would not like to meet pretty please if it exists but probably will due to his luck.

The second night, he does sleep. The two dorms exchange students are allocated have these annoying stairs that don't let anyone from the opposite gender come up so he sleeps downstairs on the small couch with one arm wrapped around Annabeth.

He wakes up to her wriggling and the sound of approaching footsteps. Riptide is in his hand before he's fully finished sitting up and the blanket someone draped over them last night falls to the floor. Annabeth pulls her sword into her lap and dives for it, just managing to cover the weapon as the portrait (because apparently doors aren't good enough for this place) swings open.

A tall woman with a witch's hat strides in, her face scolding. She looks at them accusingly and Percy feels his face go hot with frustration. The woman zeroes in on him and glares.

"I do hope", she begins primly, "that nothing untoward has happened here.". Glaring pointedly at Annabeth's covered lap, she continues, "I do not know what the rules were like at your previous school or indeed how dutifully they were enforced but here at Hogwarts, we expect our students to act responsibly at all times and to refrain from engaging in any inappropriate behaviour. Miss Chadwick… would you kindly remove the cover." Annabeth does not move. The woman nods expectantly. "Let this be your warning… Hogwarts does not tolerate any foolish-"

"Foolish?" She startles at that, either from the interruption or the way they spoke in sync. The latter can creep people out. The former is as likely, given that she seems like a woman unused to being cut off.

Percy grips Annabeth's hand - enough to stop her from launching into a tirade but not enough to stop her from proudly flinging the blanket off to reveal her bone sword. He kind of wishes she'd chosen the other option. Where are Will and Piper when you need them? The son of Apollo would have some pretty scathing words to say about how making topics taboo is-

"I apologise." Wait what? Percy can count on one hand the number of adults who have apologised to him: his mom, Chiron, his dad (does that count when he was talking about Percy's existence?) and his mom again. McWitchy Witch actually does look apologetic, if a bit stiff. "I hadn't considered that your focus might be something that you would want to keep hidden - I have heard they are often personal in nature."

Annabeth, a half-decent actress, nods regally. He can tell she's holding in a wheeze. "They are." Rachel confirms from behind them. She's perched on the staircase and Percy quickly picks up on her teasing smile. "We normally only show them to family, trusted friends and future spous-"

"Thanks El." They don't want Hera to catch wind of this conversation - as Queen of the gods, she might be watching them more carefully since they're out of her sphere of influence. That's what Annabeth said anyway. Personally, Percy thinks she's sick of people teasing them about something that isn't going to happen.

"Hey, I was just coming down to give Beth her staff. She forgot it when she came down a few minutes ago."

"Thank you El." He mouths along, grateful for the alibi.

McWitchy clears her throat. "Yes, well… if you could get the others? It's time for your official induction."

The first thing Hazel decides to do when she comes downstairs and gets told what happened is betray them. "Like the stable incident?" she questions, innocently. Percy knows better. He knows better, levels an accusing finger in her direction, only to drop it in the face of three shrivelling stares. McWitchy, who's apparently called McGonagall, twitches, angling herself to listen better yet appear like she isn't.

"Nothing happened!" Percy protests. "G-Man, back me up here!" Grover shrugs, the traitor. He can literally read Percy's emotions, he knows that he is telling the truth.

"What happened?" Juniper eagerly leans in. She's far too interested.

"Oh my gods!" Annabeth breathes. "Nothing happened and no one is going to say anything about it." She is the fort that not even Percy's baby seal eyes or Hazel's wide eyed youth can breach. The daughter of Pluto straightens up, head no longer leaning towards Juniper's. "We had rules."

"Rule 1:" Hazel recites, "What happens on the Argo II stays on the Argo II. I'm sorry June."

"Wait, I thought that was rule 2?" Percy counters. He remembers the rules, if not the order they came in.

"Isn't rule 2 don't let Le-"

"Rule 2 is don't let anyone who wasn't there know any of the following rules."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "You can keep your secrets guys, just stop going on about them. Some of us have better things to do than try to guess what happened on your little trip." Percy can hear the laughter in her voice. It's a lighthearted complaint so, obviously, she is ignored.

"But I need to know El, you don't understand!" Grover whines. "Perry and I have no secrets! Except for that."

"You're not dating him Gru." Juniper giggles. "Unless you’ve got a bit on the side and you didn't tell me? Seaweed brain, I thought we agreed that we'd share! You’re hogging him, aren't you?" Percy gives his girlfriend his best apologetic look before they inevitably break out into laughter. It's not unknown around Camp that Annabeth wasn't the only one out of the two of them to be… flattered by Luke’s attention, back when he was still on their side. Grover is his friend, however, and despite some people's opinions, will never be anything more.

"I apologise Beth." Percy bows his head and waits but there is none of Hazel's light laughter. He looks up at her curiously, alarmed to realise her eyes are teary. Rachel, by her side, waves him off. He gets the hint and starts dramatically groaning.

When he looks up again, there's a small smile on Hazel's face. Percy smiles back. Even though he can't fix his baby cousin's problem, he can still get her to smile. That will have to be enough.

Telling three demigods, one dryad, one Oracle and one satyr to stand in a straight line for one minute is bad enough. McWitchy wants them to stay like this for ten. Not a chance, ma'am, not a chance. They'll get themselves back into order after she finishes her speech.

When she finally says the word exchange, they rearrange themselves: Annabelle Chadwick then Elizabeth Chadwick then Perry Johnson then Hailey Levelle then Hayleigh Levelle then June Peterson. Since he is right behind Annabeth and can hold her hand, Percy is quite happy with their order.

McWitchy is still talking and it is fine for the first minute but by the second, his body is begging him to move. Percy steps up to Annabeth's side, right as they begin to hear whispers. The whispers grow louder and louder and the others move closer.

A strange, spectral face emerges from the wall they are facing and grows longer and longer until it's an entire body. It's like something out of a horror film. Sometimes Percy thinks his life is one. More ghosts follow, coming closer and closer. They are discussing the six of them the same way the gods do, with an almost detached air. Probably threats. If titans can't kill him, however, these things won’t.

He drops his branch and draws his sword, mirrored by the others.

"Oh ho ho." one of them chortles, oblivious to Annabeth and Hazel's whispered exchange. "Look at-"

The Stygian Iron dagger that Hazel is brandishing at them shuts them up pretty quickly. As far as he knows, she doesn't actually know how to use a dagger but it has a pointy end and Hazel definitely knows where that needs to go so it's fine. Besides, it's not like the ghosts know that.

Another one drifts uncomfortably close, hissing when it gets within a foot of the blade. It backs down instantly, darting over to the other ghosts. They form a huddle, murmuring too quietly for mortal, demigod and dryad ears to hear.

Grover tilts his head to listen better. "They're freaking out." he surmises. "I don't think they've run into Stygian Iron before and they've realised that it sucks out their life force. They're deciding whether to make nice or fight us. They're scared of Hazel. Most of them think that fighting is stupid because we could have more-"

"Are you bothering the exchange students?" McGonagall interrupts. Percy quickly adjusts himself. When McWitchy turns to look at the six of them, they are in alphabetical order, weapons hidden in their robes and staffs held in their right hands. The picture of innocence.

The ghosts take the opportunity to make their escape and McWitchy looks over them critically, restating that they should come in one by one. Percy briefly wonders if she's trying to split them up before he remembers that the Hall is where everyone eats. He could go for a greasy burger right now. A nice one. Like Medusa's. She might have been out to get them but man could she make nice burgers.

"Chadwick, Annabelle." Rachel steps bravely forward to her doom. She's walking differently - kinda like the rest of them. Percy gently elbows Annabeth in the back to get her attention. "Why is she moving differently?"

His girlfriend grins, teeth gleaming in the dim light. Gods, he loves her. "I showed her a few tricks with a dagger. Piper's been doing some stuff with her too. She's getting better."

The mouldy hat that Rachel's wearing moves. "Ravenclaw!"

A talking hat. Okay. He tries to ask Annabeth why this is necessary but she's already moved out of earshot since McWitchy's called for her. Percy asks Grover instead. The satyr huffs, says he should already know and then explains that as exchange students, the best way for them to make the most of it is to integrate with the students. It sounds like he's quoting someone. Probably McWitchy.

"Gryffindor!" Annabeth gets up, looks at him anxiously and then turns to walk away towards the red and gold table. All he has to do now is get there. The hat is lowered onto his head and Percy hopes he is not gonna get head lice.

'Ah, Mr. Jackson.' Percy jolts so hard he nearly falls over. The stool creaks alarmingly but doesn't break. He's not being kicked out for property damage then. Yet.

'Yes, good luck with that.' The voice sounds amused. 'Now, let me see…' Percy gets a minor headache right then and starts thinking about things he doesn't want to. Is the hat doing that?

'Smarter than you seem, aren't you? Hmm… you are a hard worker and your flaw is personal loyalty… Huffl- Percy thinks 'No' as hard as he can. He has to be with Annabeth, doesn’t know what he will do without her. He tacks on a 'please'. 'In Hufflepuff, you will get better.' the hat scolds, 'In Gryffindor, you will stagnate. You are right, however, I see another that suits you better….'

"Slytherin!"

Reluctantly, Percy stands up. Every step forward is a difficulty and he cannot help but remember that time before… below when Annabeth had to face Arachne alone. He looks at her the entire time he walks, her eyes resigned but she's plotting, he can tell that by tomorrow this won't be a problem. It might even be tonight.

Still, that does not stop him from dreading each step, certain that for tonight at least he will suffer alone. Hopefully whatever sucker has to sleep near him tonight will actually get some sleep. Hopefully.

He tunes back in as the people around him clap and Grover goes to sit by Rachel at the blue and bronze table. Hazel and Juniper both end up at the black and yellow table - Hufflepuff where the hat nearly sorted him. He locks eyes with Annabeth, both of them realising that they are alone.

They must have been staring at each other for at least five minutes when Annabeth’s attention is drawn by the red-haired boy next to her. He has been trying to ask her something for at least four minutes and she has been pretending not to notice but he got close to her ear this time so she has to engage. It will not be for long.

Percy takes this opportunity to glare at a small blonde boy with his hair slicked back. It is hardly an intense stare, he is not into scaring little children and it is not like any of his flailing legs actually hurt. Clearly, the kid does not know how to kick someone's leg properly.

"Stop staring at me!" the kid whines once he realises that he has Percy's attention. He blinks, unsure how to react to that. "I wasn't-" he tries to explain, only to be cut off.

"You must be a half-blood. My father will hear about this!"

Percy swears his heart stops beating in his chest for a minute. How does this kid know? Do they have like wanted posters out for them in this world? How come LongBeard has not done anything? Is this a trap? Is he just waiting-

"Honestly, no manners the lot of you!"

… the kid definitely knows something. Percy tries not to let the panic get to him, manages a blustery "Hey!" and prays that he has not screwed things up already. Although, maybe if the kid knows he could just…

"My father will hear about this." he returns mockingly.

"Oh yeah?" the boy returns, "What can your filthy Muggle-loving father do?".

The only reason that the brat gets away with it is a) because he is a kid and b) because Percy knows Annabeth would be mad if he threatened him and blew their cover. Even if he is a brat. Still, Percy is not going to let this idiot get away with insulting his mother.

"Say that again?" he demands, voice as stormy as the swirling seas.

The kid stammers and he locks eyes with Annabeth who gives him a look that quite clearly means 'Knock it off.’. He smiles at her sheepishly and when he looks back at the brat, the blond quickly looks away. That suits Percy just fine. He probably shouldn't have scared the kid but he definitely does not regret it, not when his mother was brought into it. It's a good thing neither Thalia or Nico are here.

"That wasn't very wise." a voice on his right drawls. Percy very blatantly gives the person next to him a once over. The teenage girl has a 'P' pinned to the front of the ridiculous robes they are all forced to wear. As soon as Percy gets the chance, he is persuading Annabeth to alter them. He can barely move!

The 'P' badge gleams under the candlelight. Rachel said it stood for something - Perfect? Something like a cabin counselor or a centurion who had the power to give and take housepoints: basically to enforce the rules so pretty similar. Except counselors care more about keeping their cabin alive than curfew. And they have hundreds of school rules here apparently. None of which he knows.

"Yeah?" Percy responds. "That's what I have my wise girl for." He cheerfully waves at Annabeth's back. Perfect squints at his fiancée before staring at him with a deadpan expression.

"A Gryffindor? Really? What are you: star-crossed lovers?"

"Something like that." 

It took time, effort and two wars but both of their godly parents had finally accepted that their relationship was not going to be broken. At least not by them. Unfortunately, they had then decided that their children should get married. Which. Is. NOT. Happening.

Percy's Mom was disappointed and Annabeth's Dad was unsure but they respected their decision. Last they heard, their godly parents were arguing over wedding colours.

The girl snorts. "Gemma Farley, sixth year Prefect." Percy obligingly shakes the outstretched hand and repeats his name for her. When she asks if it is his final year upon hearing his age, he nods and mentally notes it down as a lie. You have to keep track of lies, else they collapse like a stacked deck or cards.

"So Johnson…" Gem- Farley starts casually before there is a clatter from the end of the table that distracts them. A little girl embarassedly sets her goblet to rights and Percy manages not to glower at the brat sitting opposite as he complains about lesser half-bloods. Another half-blood? Maybe she could be one of Clarisse's siblings? It will be more obvious when she grows into herself a bit.

"Malfoy!" Farley says chidingly. "Behave. The rules of Slytherin apply to all seated at this table."

So that is the kid's name? It sounds weird but a lot of names sound weird so he lets it go and decides to try whatever looks most familiar because he is hungry.

Farley passes him the potatoes and Percy spends the rest of dinner trying to avoid her probing questions and eye contact. It is only later when he is safely ensconced in his bed - that he has to share with other Slytherins (who are not going to be happy with him in the morning) - that Percy realises that Farley could have stepped in earlier.

It is kinda funny that no matter where Percy goes, there is always an initiation ritual. Politics and all that. He wonders how the others are getting on and then feels himself falling asleep. Hopefully he will not scream too loud. Hopefully.

Chapter Text

"So…" Naomi Smith prompts, leaning unfortunately close. Juniper plasters herself against Hazel's side. She might not know the other girl that well and she is Roman and a daughter of death but she is also a demigod. Right now, that means everything. Hazel herself has a tight grip on Juniper's hand and the dryad tries to let the contact soothe her, even as her anxiety flares. The bubbliness that so easily came out when it was just her, Annabeth and Hazel lurks deep below the surface, resulting now in a racing heartbeat and unsteady breaths.

Juniper musters a weak smile and squeezes Hazel's hand. For her part, the demigod looks more unfriendly than anything else - her face is decidedly cold and her lips are sealed shut. This does not deter Naomi Smith, who thankfully does not lean in any clos- who does somehow manage to lean in closer, well and truly cornering them.

Dryads have been outrunning gods for centuries. Demigods have been fighting monsters for centuries. Juniper is a dryad. Hazel is a demigod. They just press closer together and wait.

"Where are you from then lovelies? Got any boyfriends? I know quite a few single people round here who would absolutely lov-"

"Naomi, darling, don't steal all the air."

"Shut up Diggory." Naomi returns but she does lean back and give them some space. In some ways, it is a loss for Juniper who as a tree spirit, breathes in carbon dioxide and out oxygen. In other, bigger ways, she much appreciates the ability to spread her limbs out now.

Diggory laughs. Behind him, girls giggle and Naomi rolls her eyes. Juniper thinks he's kind of pretty - he has grey eyes and dark hair and skin and when he smiles his teeth gleam. Diggory might be prettier than Grover but Grover will always be more beautiful so she blinks and gives them both a shy smile.

Hazel's grip loosens. Juniper is grateful that she does not let go. The demigod's hand is calloused from training, from fighting and she is sort of draining Juniper's energy a little by virtue of being Pluto's daughter but she makes Juniper feel safe.

"No thanks." He turns to them then, grey eyes sparkling, so different from Annabeth's despite being the same colour. "I'm Cedric Diggory, nice to meet you. What're your names again?"

"Hayleigh." Hazel says firmly. "This is June."

"It's nice to meet you too." Juniper adds, quietly. She is overwhelmed at the moment and not keen to engage in a conversation with people she has only just met.

"Not really talkers, are you?" a voice asks from further down the table.

"Sam!" Naomi hisses. Juniper quietly laughs. When she looks across at Hazel, the demigod is smiling.

"Not right now." she acknowledges.

"So when?"

"Sam!" the boy next to her hisses. "Don't- stop-"

Sam raises both eyebrows, "Stop what?".

"You know exactly what!" he chides. Sam silently waits.

"Ignore Sam and Mike over there. They just like to argue. It's the only thing they draw pleasure from in their sad, miserable little lives."

"I heard that!"

"Good!"

Juniper relaxes slightly at these interactions, reminded of Camp. Hazel, on the other hand, remains stiff and tense. When the demigod catches her staring, she ducks her head slightly and tugs her hand out of Juniper's, bringing both hands up to cover her ears before bringing them back down. Juniper nods.

Hazel is hardly the first demigod to dislike loud noises. Hermione was the same, even as a legacy. Worse even, if Juniper remembers right. It was many human years ago.

Unaware of the turn her thoughts have taken but recognising the faraway look on Juniper's face, Hazel squeezes the dryad's hand. Usually, physical sensations are most effective when grounding demigods.

It works.

"Me okay." Juniper quietly mumbles in Latin, having refused to relearn the language until recently. She has picked up quite a few phrases now, in the spirit of friendship and is progressing quite fast. It is much easier to learn the second time around.

"Good." Hazel returns firmly in Ancient Greek. "Need? Gru?"

Juniper shakes her head. "I need space."

She speaks too quickly for Hazel to understand or maybe she just does not know the word because she shakes her head once, definitively. Juniper is far too worn to remember how to repeat it in Latin so she presses herself even closer, as impossible as it seems.

"I need space." she repeats and at once, Hazel's face smooths out in understanding. It is not, however, something she can really give Juniper right now.

"Were you there for that week Beth and Pete kept judo-flipping each other randomly?"

Juniper vainly tries to hold back her snort. "Chi- Cherry had to ban them from making any deals involving violence with each other. No one wanted to spar with Peter for a week because he kept using that as his last move and bragging about Beth and her teaching skills."

Hazel wiggles her eyebrows. The wizards would never believe her capable. Juniper knows better, particularly after that stable incident this morning.

"That's probably a good thing. We nearly attacked Beth when she judo-flipped him when they came over on the Argo."

"Hay-Hey!"

"It’s not like we knew about the deal! And she did take him down quite hard!"

"Oh yeah, we thought he was still invincible before the Second W-fight. Did he ever tell you about that?"

Whatever Hazel is about to say is forgotten by Naomi's eager interruption.

"When you say Beth and Peter, do you mean those two over there?" Juniper follows her finger to see Rachel and Grover, heads bent and whispering, and shakes her head.

"It's the other two?" Naomi asks absentmindedly, her tone strange.

"Why?" Juniper bites out, suddenly uncomfortable once again.

"Just wondering how long that'll last."

Hazel responds before Juniper can, demands as casually as possible what makes Naomi say that. What does she see that they do not?

It turns out that the wizards take their houses seriously because apparently Gryffindor-Slytherin relationships are a no-no. Juniper wishes them luck trying to enforce that.

"What about Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws?"

"Well Ravenclaw boys are smart but they can be a bit arrogant too. They're kind of well-suited to Hufflepuff girls because of that, who tend to be more humble but quite hardworking. Opposites attract right? Although Hufflepuff boys are also a good match, sometimes it’s better to have someone more like you."

"Okay." Hazel ventures. It is the wrong thing to say.

Naomi takes it as encouragement and it is only after they have passed the barrels at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room and been sent up to their dorm that they escape her well-intentioned but questionable dating advice.

Juniper's sleep is… disturbed and she wakes the next morning far from well-rested. It does not help that Hazel and her took shifts.

She has slept on human beds before but that was different. That was with someone else, sometimes outdoors and never so far from her tree. She can no longer connect to her roots, planted in the soil of Camp Half-Blood.

Most of the campers respect the earth, particularly after having to fight a war with it. None of them are particularly keen to have Gaea rise again for disrespecting her.

Speaking of rising… Juniper forces herself to get up to change. Knowing how scared humans appear of bodies lately, she does so in the privacy of the bathroom, unhappy with the restrictiveness of robes.

Perhaps she can persuade the weaver of their group to do something about that. Juniper is more of an embroiderer. Either way, these robes need to be battle adjusted.

"I've never missed togas before." Hazel mutters unhappily as they head over to the Great Hall.

It is around five in the morning and usually they would meet outside to train but it is their first day in a new place and they have to discuss what to do next. Annabeth sent them a message last night, tied to the foot of an owl and sure enough, she is already there, limbs locked around Percy's.

The son of Poseidon looks to be asleep but a small shake by the apparently not asleep daughter of Athena rouses him. He reluctantly rises from the floor, just in time to smile at them and at Rachel and Grover who are just arriving. He looks like he has not slept at all. Actually, Annabeth looks the same.

"What time did you get here?" Juniper demands suspiciously.

Annabeth shrugs. "Can't remember." Percy adds casually.

"Per- Peter!" Grover bleats, likely sensing something through their shared empathy link. He point blank refused to even think about breaking it and when she pointed out Grover had a longer lifespan than demigods, he said nothing.

Something about going to the Underworld on your first quest must mean you die together because they will go together. Juniper will be gone whenever the seeds of her current tree can no longer grow, whenever there are no more descendants or revitalisations, when ever single part of her no longer lives. It will not be for some time.

"Around midnight." Annabeth states flatly.

Juniper believes her. She could admonish the two of them for breaking curfew but the truth is that none of the six of them care. A little rule-breaking is not going to jeopardise the mission. The dryad has heard that many demigods end up blowing their cover and just about escaping anyway so they will be fine. Hopefully.

"Information?"

"Limited, star-crossed lover 1."

Percy and Annabeth both groan as Rachel laughs uproariously. Grover's lips twitch uncontrollably and before long, the satyr is loudly bleating which sets Juniper off too. Hazel does not join in on the laughter but she does smile, a little reserved thing that Juniper thinks is absolutely adorable. That she would ever say that about a daughter of Hades- Pluto, maybe the difference matters? She never guessed that she would say so of a daughter of Hades. Not that she has known many daughters of Hades, something she should perhaps remedy if the Big Three can convince the Styx to revoke their oath.

Annabeth eventually clears her throat expectantly and the laughter dies off. Grover's quest it may be but Annabeth is their strategist. Or, in Percy's simpler words, when Annabeth starts planning, you start listening. Juniper is quite good at listening.

"So, we have our petty house rivalries. And?"

Juniper coaxes everyone into forming a tight circle before she speaks (except Grover who circles the group, keeping a careful eye on the door and this is why they are together).

"You enter the Hufflepuff dorms by tapping the barrels. I can show you later."

"Really? You just need a password for the Slytherin ones."

"Same for Gryffindor. The Prefect said it would change every week or so."

"You just need to answer a riddle to enter Ravenclaw."

"The security at this school is b-"

Hazel is quickly cut off by Percy, who makes a great show of covering his ears and, before he decides that it is better to hold his hands out beseechingly. "No! My baby cousin can’t swear!"

Rachel, never one to pass up an opportunity to stir the pot, stage-whispers. "You've corrupted her!" Percy wails dramatically, Annabeth rolls her eyes and Rachel joins him. Juniper just smiles indulgently. Laughter is good for demigods. Willow says that at least if they are laughing, they do not weep. He is right.

"What?" Hazel asks obliviously, "I was just saying that it’s barely present." There is a twinkle in her eyes that speaks of mischief and Juniper wonders, not for the first time about the girl's origins.

"Okay." Percy commands, clapping together his hands, once more the leader that Camp Half-Blood follows in to battle and even more so when he turns towards Annabeth, a gentle expression on his face. "Wise girl?"

The strategist nods grimly and whatever battle spirit resides in Juniper's heart snaps to attention.

Magic, human magic, is… just human magic really. It would be fine if Juniper were not a dryad. Herbology is good, as expected, and Potions is fine but History eludes her thus far. Hazel, expected to be the best of them as both half-human and favoured by Hecate, struggles less.

Nevertheless, Hazel's own magic is deep and strong and brutal. What these people seem to lack in power, they make up for with versatility. The Mist is simply illusion, belief and this magic has rules, structure. The Mist does not need to be adhered to.

Surprisingly, their presence among the First Years help them blend in rather than stand out. It could be a little galling that Juniper, who has been alive since before the fall of Troy, is below the level of eleven year olds but if there is one thing she has learnt over the centuries, it is patience.

The other thing she has learnt is to swiftly and uncompromisingly defend those who are hers. So when Hazel and she are sat at the Hufflepuff table for lunch and there is suddenly an unfamiliar presence leaning close, Juniper prepares herself. Last night she was out of it, acted like a child. Today, she is ready.

"Yes?" she demands expectantly before anything can be said, not trusting that glint in the boy's eyes. He gives her a dismissive look and zeroes in on Hazel.

"None of your business, Greenie."

"Excuse me?"

The seventh year smiles at Hazel's interruption, something smug on his face. It is not the dismissal that makes Juniper seethe but this, this uncomfortable, inappropriate hunger. And yet, when she glances at Hazel, her limbs relax. The demigod no longer wears the gaze of a lioness pretending to be a doe. Instead, her skin is taut, her lips closed and her eyes glimmer gold, a polished metal. Gold, true gold, is soft and malleable. But Hazel is demi, half, an alloy of gold and something else - diamond perhaps. 

So Juniper settles, tries not to laugh as the seventh year begins to become unsettled by Hazel's stare. He has confidence, she will grant him that, but demigods are shaped by blood and death. This boy-man is shaped by magic and love. An insignificant interloper perhaps but an interloper all the same.

"Leave us." Hazel Levesque commands, the power of crumbling caves and unimaginable riches in her voice. Juniper does not laugh. She smiles and her branches loom overhead in the dark, her roots in the perfect position to trip someone up, her thick canopy blocking out any guiding light. She smiles and meets the eyes of those watching, lets them see the triumph in her gaze. Let them all see. They are not here to make friends. They are here because they are cleaning up Hecate's mess, because that is the only purpose their lives have to divine beings. The demigods are here because they were born. Grover is here because the demigods were born. Juniper is here because Grover was born.

"You sure about that sweetheart? Maybe you and I could…" He inches towards her, fingers mere breaths away from her shoulders.

"Don't touch me." Hazel commands.

Arrogant then and clearly not able to take a hint. Juniper waits anyway, assured in Hazel's ability to defend herself. The demigod in question is not even looking at him, has her eyes fixed instead on eyes of tumultuous blue-green. The son of the sea deliberately retrieves a pen from his pocket and slowly tilts his head. Hazel shakes her head ever so slightly, just as deliberately and then looks at Annabeth. The blonde pats her shoulder, a devious look on her face, and Hazel nods.

"Remember yesterday, that week?" she asks Juniper. The dryad darts out of the way, just as Annabeth nods and Hazel grabs the seventh years offending wrist and moves, quicker than these wizards seem to track. It ends with him on the ground and Hazel back in her seat. Juniper extends a comforting limb and Hazel leans in, her left side now shielded by the dryad's body. There is a moment of peace (more shocked silence really).

Then, there is the disapproving Head of House, the wailing seventh year and all of the uproar. Their party watches, impassively, as those around them react. And then, when those around follow Hazel's gaze to Percy's feral smile, there are shivers.

"Miss Levelle!"

Juniper's eyes narrow at the woman interrupting their peace. She does not seem too happy, is sort of flustered and her mouth hangs slightly open in shock. Really, it is quite a disproportionate reaction. If someone tells you not to touch them, you do not. If you do, you have to accept the consequences that come with it. (Unless it is a child. That is different. Usually.)

"I… you! What possessed you to think that physically harming your housemate… Detention, Miss Levelle. I…"

"But professor." Juniper reasonably cuts in. "She told him not to touch her and he still did."

The woman wheedles around to stare at the groaning Seventh year.

"Mister Jonas, is this true?"

He looks set to disagree before he happens to look up at Juniper's sneer. Then, he magically seems to change his mind albeit sullenly.

"I'm sorry Professor." Hazel mutters, looking devastatingly contrite. "He called June 'greenie' and I told him not to touch me and I didn't think he would but then…" She produces a sob that even Juniper would be hard pressed to find fake. "I don't react well when people touch me ma'am."

Their Head of House pauses, clearly unsure what to do here before her eyes land on Juniper's tearful visage. The dryad feels that she may have cracked a root trying not laugh. The kindly woman's visage hardens and before long, Hazel is off the hook 'this time' and Mister Jonas is being dragged off by the ear for a long talk that he will not enjoy.

Juniper high-fives Hazel under the table.