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Chapter Text

Harry

“Hey, kid, are you alright?”

Harry blinked his eyes open. He’d been running from Dudley and his friends and ducked into an alley. He was in an alley alright, but the person speaking to him did not have the right accent. 

The man looking around the bin he was hiding behind had all the appearances of the coaches Harry hated. A whistle hung around his neck, and Harry could almost hear it ringing in his ears as the man shouted at him to do more… whatever he was being told to do. The only thing Harry was never shouted at for by coaches was running. He had plenty of practice with that. The man’s billed cap sat funny on his head, and his ears were pointed… the only things about him that didn’t frighten Harry a little bit. 

“I’m Gleeson Hedge, or Coach Hedge, or just Coach. You got a name?”

“I’m alright, sir,” he said softly.

Coach Hedge’s brows shot up. “You seem a bit far from home, kid. How’d you end up in New York?”

“I’m what?” It came out far closer to a squeak than Harry had intended. How could he be in New York? He’d just been a few streets for the Dursley home in Little Whinging. 

Coach Hedge rounded the bins, and Harry found his gaze dropping to the man’s legs. Or more correctly, the goat legs that were where his legs were supposed to be.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I thought you might be able to see those, kid.” He crouched down. “You ever see things others can’t? Monsters and creatures? And sometimes when you look back, everything looks normal again?”

Harry found himself nodding. 

“I hate to break it to you, kid, but you’re a demigod. One of your parents was a god or goddess. There are others like you. I can take you to Camp, where the other kids like you learn how to defend yourselves against monsters.”

And even though a part of Harry screamed at him to run away, to get away from the strange man, he found himself taking the offered hand and letting the goat-coach-man pull him to his feet.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry walked with Coach Hedge into what he called Camp Half-Blood. He got the full tour of everything from the archery range to the lake and every activity area in between. Then they went to The Big House, where two men sat playing some kind of card game.

One, with a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt on, rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. The other, dressed in a suit jacket, threw the first a glare, before turning his gaze to Harry.

“Just ignore Mr. D. He isn’t good with his manners. Thank you, Gleeson. I’ll take it from here.” The man wheeled his electric wheelchair around the table, motioning for Harry to follow him onto the massive wrap-around porch. “I imagine this is all quite a lot to take in.”

Harry nodded.

“I’m Chiron, the activities director here at camp. May I ask your name?”

“Harry Potter, sir.” He didn’t miss the way Chiron stiffened.

“Come again?”

“Harry Potter.”

Chiron sat forward, folding his hands under his chin. “And did you run away from home, Harry?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was hiding from my cousin, and the next…”

“Where were you hiding from you cousin?”

“Little Whinging.”

“England?”

Harry nodded.

Mr. Chiron (because that had been hammered into his head almost literally: using honorifics) stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head and continuing on. “We’ll see what we can do about that. For now, I assume Gleeson gave you the full tour.” At Harry’s nod, he continued. “Why don’t we head to the cabins and get you a bunk?” 

And the man stood from his wheelchair. Well, man wasn’t quite right. He was a horse, too. Harry averted his eyes. Staring wasn’t polite. Harry followed after Mr. Chiron as he walked through the camp. There were dozens of other kids milling about that he’d only seen from a distance during the tour.

The half-horse must have been reading his thoughts. “Everyone has just finished with morning activities. Lunch will be served soon.” He pointed out cabins as they walked by, from the empty Cabins One and Two, to Cabin Three where one boy was walking inside, with a creature like Gleeson Hedge beside him. 

Cabin Five was surrounded by big, rowdy kids that reminded him of Dudley and his gang. There was a mean looking girl sitting on the steps, staring him down. One of the boys raced away from the group in his general direction, another on his tail. Harry froze, clenching his fists. Don’t show fear. That only made you a target. Then the two boys were on the ground, wrestling and punching each other. 

Mr. Chiron sighed. “Philip, Michael, please cease. We don’t need you both in the infirmary again.”

But the boys didn’t stop. They continued to pummel each other until four kids rushed over from another cabin and dragged them away from each other. Another of the newcomers looked at Mr. Chiron. “Permission to deal with them as I need to?”

“Permission granted, Lee.”

Lee and another older boy circled the two boys who were still trying to get to each other and put them in headlocks. It took a couple minutes, but the fighting pair slumped, falling unconscious. “Get them up to the infirmary,” Lee said. “Restrain them if they try to leave.” 

As the others who had helped deal with the boys dragged them toward the building Harry’s just been at, Lee stalked over to the girl who had been staring at Harry. “Will you keep your cabin in check, Clarisse? It’s bad enough none of you hold back in training.”

Mr. Chiron ushered Harry away toward the other end of the pack of cabins. Cabin Eleven was overflowing with kids. He was introduced to Travis and Connor who were the head councilors of the Hermes Cabin. 

“Unclaimed?” Connor asked.

Harry didn’t know how to answer, because what did that even mean?

“Yeah, unclaimed,” Travis said. “There’s no way he’s a Hermes kid. He doesn’t have any of Dad’s features.” He threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders, and Harry tried not to flinch. “Come on in, kid. We’ll find you a place to stay.”

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. Apparently the Greek gods were real, and he had to give an offering of his food at lunch. He followed his cabin mates to training which involved fighting. Dudley would fit right in, here. Only the kids here weren’t all pudgy or fat like Dudley’s gang. 

These kids were fit. The bulkier kids, like the pair fighting earlier, were packed with muscle. Even the slimmer kids were still athletic, with strength in their lithe forms. Then there were the kids who didn’t take part in the fighting (Connor called them the Aphrodite kids). That is, until one of the boys from Harry’s new cabin threw a ball of mud at one of them, hitting her square in the face. 

With a shriek, she and some the girls around her descended on him and proved they were just a powerful as all the rest, sending the kid to the infirmary with what looked like a couple broken bones.

The big girl from earlier was still watching him, which bothered him to no end. He hadn’t done anything to her, hadn’t even spoken to her or anyone from her cabin. Why would she single him out already?

Dinner passed much the same as lunch, scrapping food into the fire as an offering. Cabin Five was loud and insane, with arguments escalating to shouting matches, arm wrestling contests, and a brief food fight that turned into fists being thrown, until the camp director, Mr. D, told them off for disturbing his peace.

The campfire after dark was nice, though. He’d never been camping, and the fire was calming. He sat off by himself. He didn’t want to impose any more than he already had. A girl sat down beside him. She was probably a little younger than Harry, but she didn’t look it. Or Harry didn’t look like he was older than her. She was probably about his height. She didn’t wear an orange camp shirt. Instead she was in a gray tank-top with a jumpsuit half-off, tied around her waist. Her hair was covered in a sort of scarf.

“You’re the new kid, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer, extending her hand. “I’m Nyssa.”

Harry didn’t take her hand. “You shouldn’t be around me. People don’t like it.”

She raised a bushy brow, which he quickly realized wasn’t all that bushy, but lined in dirt of some kind. “Who told you that?”

Harry shrugged. 

“Well, if anyone gives me a hard time, I can deal with it.” Even without him telling his name, she decided to continue talking. She told him about the summer so far and the drama that had happened with something called the master bolt, about how Percy Jackson, Grover, and Annabeth Chase (she pointed each of them out in turn) had stopped the gods from going to war. And she started to say something about someone named Luke who left not long after, but then quickly stopped herself, and Harry couldn't bring himself to ask.

She also pointed out the different cabin councilors. Cabin One, Zeus’s cabin, was empty. Cabin Two for Hera was purely honorary. Cabin Three was Poseidon, sole occupant Percy Jackson, de facto head councilor. Cabin Four held the Demeter kids, lead by Katie Gardner. Five was the Ares Cabin, head councilor: Clarisse Le Rue, the mean looking girl who kept watching him. Cabin Six: Athena with Annabeth as head councilor. She’d been around camp the longest, even if she wasn’t the oldest.

Cabin Seven were the Apollo kids, the healers of camp. Lee Fletcher was the head councilor and also the head medic (besides Chiron who was something called a centaur). Cabin Eight was for Artemis, but she didn’t have any kids. The Hunters would stay there when they came through, young women who pledged themselves to the service of the goddess. Cabin Nine (“The best cabin,” Nyssa said.) was for the Hephaestus kids, like Nyssa, lead by Charles Beckendorf, who only ever went by his surname. 

Ten held (“The divas of camp” was Nyssa’s barb at the gaggle of kids and teens off together around the campfire.) the Aphrodite kids. Silena Beauregard was the head councilor (“and the most prissy of the group, but also really nice.”) and was dating Beckendorf ("okay, not really, yet, but everyone knows they will"). Cabin Twelve was for Dionysus (Mr. D was actually a god) with the two inhabitants and co-councilors, twins Castor and Pollux. 

Cabin Eleven, where Harry was now staying, was for the Hermes kids, any campers who had yet to be claimed by their godly parent (so that’s what unclaimed meant), or had a godly parent that wasn’t one of the Olympians, such as Thora Thomas, daughter of Nemesis.

Nyssa ignored the sing-along portion of the evening to continue telling Harry about the camp and little things she thought he should know. She was so nice. She really needed to leave him alone so his freakishness didn’t rub off on her. 

As the night wound down, Travis came over the led Harry back to their cabin. The night was warm, alive with the sounds of night. Connor pushed a bag of toiletries into Harry’s hands and took him to the bathroom. 

Harry sat on his mattress in the corner of the Hermes Cabin. He was used to being cast into a corner or under the stairs. He curled up as everyone around him settled in to sleep.

Travis called out, “Lights out in three, two-“ and the lights flicked off.

Chapter Text

Clarisse

Clarisse watched the new kid. He didn’t interact with anyone in the day and a half he’d been at camp. Even at last night’s campfire, when Nyssa had talked to him, it was like he was trying to get away from her. He flinched at loud noises and raised voices, which were both fairly common during meals. Which he didn’t eat much of. When he made his offering, he scraped almost all of his food into the fire, but didn’t seem to be sending a prayer up with it. He was nothing but skin and bone, and was lost in the clothing he wore that looked to be for a small walrus instead of a malnourished ten-year-old. 

She’d seen enough kids coming out of abusive homes. Part of her wished she’d seen it in Jackson when he’d first arrived, but she’d been caught up in hating him. He was better now, as were the others. Didn’t mean she liked him. 

Speak of the devil… Jackson stepped between her and the new kid. “Stay away from him. He doesn’t need your hazing.”

Clarisse stood and jerked her head to the side and he followed. Once they were away from the rest of the campers, she met his gaze with crossed arms. “You have any idea how bad he’s had it?”

“What?”

“Look at him. Tina could push him over, and she’s six.” She looked back toward the new kid, not that she could see him anymore.

“Chiron is reaching out to his family.”

She snapped her head around to stare at him. “What?”

“I heard him saying that whatever brought him here…”

But she was already marching to the Big House. This was one of those rare times Chiron and Mr. D weren’t at dinner. She’d seen Gleeson stalking up there just before the dinner bell, so there was some kind of meeting happening that had taken priority.

She threw the door to Chiron’s office open without knocking. “You can’t be considering sending him back to his family.”

Chiron, Gleeson, and another satyr were sitting (or in the Coach’s case pacing) around the desk. 

“Clarisse.”

“That kid has been abused and neglected.”

“There’s more to this than just…”

“Just what?” she snarled, stepping closer

Chiron motioned for Clarisse to take the chair Gleeson had abandoned.

“She’s right, Chiron,” her satyr protector growled. “His room was a damn broom closet under the stairs. His possessions consisted of hand-me-down clothing from his whale of a cousin. They called him ‘the freak’, for Hades sake!”

Clarisse felt sick and angry all at once as she sank into the chair.

“Gleeson, calm yourself.” Chiron looked at Clarisse. “Harry is more than just a demigod. He’s magical, from the druidic. He… He’s a wizard, and he will have to leave us to learn how to control that part of him. He was left with his family, after his parents were murdered, because of blood warding. I won’t pretend to understand it, completely, but from what I know, he has some very dangerous people after him, and the wards hide him, but he has to be around family for that to happen. So, unless his godly parent claims him and they have other children here, there’s not much we can do.”

Now, she just felt sick. “How long do we have?”

“I can put it off until the end of summer.”

Clarisse stood and stormed out. She reached the pavilion, just as people were beginning to disperse. “Counselors, with me, everyone else, out, now,” she barked.

Everyone scurried to leave. 

“What is it?” Silena asked.

“We need to get the new kid claimed.”

Connor scoffed. “Why so charitable all of a sudden?”

“Because if he isn’t claimed by the end of the summer, Chiron will have to send him back to his family, his abusive family.”

Percy scowled. “That’s not how it works.”

She couldn’t keep the derisive sneer from her face. “Apparently, it does for him.”

Two days later, Clarisse walked into the Hermes cabin, where Harry had taken to spending his time. “Let’s go, kid,” she said, gently. “Pack your things.”

His eyes turned watery, but he did as he was told. And she marched him to the Ares cabin. She took his bag, probably filled with things Travis and Connor had stolen for him, and tossed it onto the bed above hers.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that,” Harry whispered. “I’m not claimed.”

“I’ve claimed you. I don’t care if Ares isn’t your dad. Anyone who has a problem with it can go through me. Now, I’ve got a day pass. We’re going into the city to get you some clothes that actually fit you and a new pair of glasses.”

The day passed… about as terribly as she had expected. Harry hadn’t known how to shop for clothes. Thankfully, Chiron had agreed to send Silena and Beckendorf with them. Silena had seen his perplexed and terrified face and steered them toward ice cream first.

Beckendorf had pre-empted the issue of choice by asking Harry if he had any allergies, then ordered him a scoop of chocolate. As much as Clarisse wanted something more, she let the son of Hephaestus order her the same thing. The shop had two dozen flavors, so the choice could be overwhelming for a normal ten-year-old. And the last thing they wanted was him to think he was second class by having something plain. 

“Do you want to sit inside or out, kid?” Beckendorf asked, handing Harry his cup and a spoon.

Harry shrugged, but his eyes flicked to the door.

“Outside it is.”

Harry flinched, trying to backtrack the answer he hadn’t realized he’d given.

Beckendorf threw his arm around Harry, guiding him toward the door. “Sorry, Silena, three to one. We’re sitting outside.”

Silena faked disappointment. “As long as we find some shade.”

Clarisse fought a smile as her friends asked Harry questions, some about their shopping, some about him, and some about the way British English differed from America just to make him smile. 

“It’s jelly on toast,” Beckendorf said.

“It’s jam,” Harry replied, finally more open. “Jelly is the colorful, wiggly stuff.”

“You mean jello?”

Once they got to shopping, Silena gathered up a bunch of things to try on, albeit incredibly restrained for her. She limited her questions pre-dressing room to if he liked the color or style. Then the only question she asked was if he liked it once he tried each item on. With her eagle eye for clothing, she could tell if he was uncomfortable in it. 

They got him a week’s worth of clothes, a few pairs of shoes for the various camp activities, and got his eyes checked for new glasses.

Harry

Harry walked with Beckendorf and Silena once they returned to Camp. Clarisse left them to tell Chiron they’d returned and to take Harry’s things to her cabin. 

Beckendorf threw his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Come on. It’s nearly dinner time. Gotta get the good seats.”

He guided Harry over to the Ares table, pushing him down onto the bench. As other kids trickled in, he felt their gazes on him, whispering about him. One of the boys who had been fighting the day he arrived put a foot up on the bench beside him and loomed. “What’re you doing here, shrimp? You ain’t an Ares kid.”

Clarisse slid onto the bench across from him. “Fuck off, Phil.” She put a cup in front of Harry. “What do you like to drink, kid?”

Harry was still frozen in the shadow of Phil who still hadn’t moved. Clarisse lifted her gaze to the larger boy. “Don’t make me say it again.”

He started to argue, and Clarisse shot up from her spot and grabbed his jacket. She dragged him across the table and tossed him almost effortlessly outside the circle of columns. Then she sat down like nothing had happened. “How about apple juice?” She said with her hand on his cup. He looked into the cup as she pushed it into his hands, finding amber liquid inside. 

Mr. D arrived, passing every table as he made his way up to his place. Then he stopped by the Ares table, staring at Harry over his sunglasses. Harry wanted to run or sink into the ground. Being the sole focus of a god was terrifying. 

Clarisse pulled out a knife, flipping it around in her hand. “Got something to say?”

Then the god’s attention shifted to Clarisse, and she didn’t even flinch. Harry had heard from some of the other campers Mr. D had been known to turn people into animals or grapevines should the mood strike him, especially when kids broke the rules. 

Something in how the god looked must have said something to Clarisse, because she narrowed her eyes. “If our father has a problem with it, he can say it to me himself. Until that happens, he’s staying with us. And anyone else who has a problem with it can fuck right off.”

Mr. D humphed. “He’s your responsibility then. If he gets claimed, you’ll have to deal with the repercussions.” And he turned to the head table. 

When the spirits came around with the food, he waited like he always did for the others to take their fill first, but Clarisse put things on his plate before her own. And when it came time for offerings, she kept him from dumping most of the contents into the fire. She walked him through how one was to make offerings and what you did after. 

Clarisse made an offering to Ares, then a second which she did silently. As Harry watched, each of the councilors did the same. First an offering out loud to, usually, their godly parent, and a second one, they made silently.

Chapter Text

Harry

The morning after Clarisse claimed Harry, he sought out Chiron. He found the centaur sitting in his wheelchair, book in hand. Harry was about to slip away, when Chiron closed his book, calling out to him. 

“What can I help you with?” he asked.

Harry shifted on his feet, eyes cast on the wooden floor of the veranda. “Something Mr. D said last night…”

Chiron gave an understanding hum. “When he said Clarisse would have to pay the price should you be claimed.”

Harry gave a strangled sound. That made it seem so much worse. He didn’t want people getting in trouble on his account. He was already a freak. Just being near him could cost Clarisse so much.

“The gods expect their children to honor them by sitting at the table dedicated to that god. The gods can be… adversarial to one another at times. We try to avoid conflict both here and on Olympus by assigning the children of a god to the table assigned to that god. If you were, for example, a child of Hephaestus and you are now sitting with the children of Ares, even as an unclaimed, it could cause a fair amount of... drama. Or if Percy were to sit at the Athena table. Poseidon and Athena have been at odds since Athens chose their patron. So, if you are claimed by one of the Olympians, after Ares has allowed you to, in a very basic sense, show some form of allegiance to him, it could cause conflict. Mr. D was simply reminding Clarisse that she would have to be the one to rectify any ill effects her choice may cause.”

Harry felt sick. He knew what he’d let Clarisse do was against the rules, but to cause so much trouble…

“Clarisse knew what she was doing. And Ares would be quick to make his displeasure known. She is more than willing to accept the consequences of her actions. Now, I believe you are going to be late for the Ares cabin’s turn on the sparring field.”

Harry walked away, feeling no better having the information he’d sought out. As he descended the hill, Clarisse met up with him and led him the rest of the way to the training field. 

The next week turned to routine. Harry fell into the schedule of camp with the Ares cabin. Everyone was abuzz for capture the flag the next day, talking strategy. As all the campers headed to the campfire, he held back in the dining pavilion. 

Childlike-Hestia sat by the hearth, tending to the flames. “You’re allowed to speak to me, you know.” She turned her gaze to him. 

He felt his face heat in a blush. 

She motioned him over, and he obeyed. “You’ve been wishing the courage to approach me, I know. I see your concerns as plain as day.” She patted the stone beside her, and he sat down. “You have so many worries, child.”

It felt strange to have someone who looked younger than him call him child. Then again, she was a goddess. She chose to look the way she did. 

“I promise you, Harry, you will not go back to those who loath you. Their dwelling is far from what one might call a home. I have no place there, nor did you. You belong here, even if you cannot accept it, yet. You will learn what it is to be a demigod.”

“How do you know? Chiron has said if I’m not claimed he will have to send me back to the Dursleys.”

She gave a cryptic smile and vanished. 

“Hello, Harry.”

He jumped at the unfamiliar voice. Turning, he found a tall woman draped in a shimmering black dress bathed in firelight. She knelt down and sat beside him. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t. His tongue stuck, words failing him. She was beautiful and dangerous.

“You have a great many friends here.” She pushed her hair behind her shoulder, silver strands glittering in the dark tresses. “They’ve been praying to your godly parent to claim you.”

“Why?” he asked.

She swept closer and sat down beside him. “What do you know about that scar on your forehead?”

“I got it in the car crash that killed my parents.”

The woman scowled. “Your aunt and uncle told you that, I’m sure.”

“Why do you care?”

She sighed. “You are more than just a Greek demigod, Harry. You’re also a druidic wizard. You possess magic. There was a dark wizard who tried to kill you, and you survived, but your mother and father lost their lives as they tried to protect you. Those who found you set up blood wards so strong, they hid you from all who would hunt you, including monsters, and blurred you from my sight. I didn’t know what was happening to you, or I would have intervened long ago.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m your mother.”

Harry scowled. “What?”

“Lily and James Potter were unable to have a child. They sought a spell to help and found me instead. I found myself intrigued by their power and skill at so young an age. So, I helped them. So, they are your parents, but I am, also, your mother.”

She reached out, slowly, caressing his cheek. “I’m going to cast new blood-wards over you. Every summer you will need to come to others who carry the blood of the gods. What you wish to do outside of the summer is your choice, but soon enough, you will be given the chance to learn to wield the druidic magic in your blood.”

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his brow. “I have no cabin, but I imagine you have found a home with the children of Ares.”

Harry nodded.

“They’re volatile, but protective to a fault. Ares and I have come to an understanding, so you need not worry over a conflict befalling Clarisse. Now, I must go. We will speak again, soon, and I’ll tell you more about your parents. You should join the others. Your friends are waiting for you.”

He grudgingly trudged to the amphitheater, where the campers were having their sing along. He found Clarisse and sat beside her. She shoved a s’more into his hands and licked the melty chocolate from her fingertips. 

The fire burst into a fit of sparks, making everyone fall quiet. Then it went out, not even leaving an ember burning. But the area lit up with a purple glow. Harry looked around, trying to meet Clarisse’s gaze, but she was staring above him. 

He looked up, and over his head floated a glowing symbol. It looked like a full moon with a crescent on either side. 

Chiron’s voice boomed through the silence. “You have been claimed by the Night Walker, Leader of the Horde of Spirits, Queen of Witches, Dark Lady of Magic and the Mist: Harry Potter, Son of The Triple Goddess, Hecate.”

The morning after Harry was claimed, there was an uproar at breakfast. Mr. D scowled at Clarisse in a way that was placing blame squarely on her shoulders. 

The Ares kids were split. While some of them had begun to accept Harry, other wanted him to leave, since he wasn’t one of them. Clarisse made her stance known, pulling Harry behind her to take the brunt of the shouting herself.

The Hermes kids were also split, since Clarisse had claimed him he wouldn’t be taking up space in their already packed cabin, but as the cabin for the children of the minor gods, they felt he should rejoin them. The Hecate kids in the Hermes cabin were the most adamant at his return the Hermes cabin, since he belonged with them. 

The other cabins were starting to take sides. Aphrodite and Hephaestus sided with Clarisse, because Silena and Beckendorf did. Percy was trying to stay out of it. The Athena cabin inhabitants were split on their views. Demeter was on the Hermes/Hecate side. The two from Dionysus’s cabin was following their dad and staying out of it and just annoyed. Apollo was very much with the Hermes cabin, with a couple standing with Clarisse. 

Harry wanted to say something, to tell them what his mother had told him before she’d claimed him about the understanding she and Ares had apparently come to. But he was too afraid to interrupt. 

Beckendorf seemed to notice. “Hey, shut it!” he called out, and everyone fell quiet. He turned to Harry. “What have you got to say, kid?”

He paled as everyone’s attention turned to him. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “I… My moth… Hecate… Lady Hecate, she spoke to me before she claimed me. She said she and Ares had an understanding, that I could stay where I was.”

Instead of clearing anything up, the fighting only seemed to get worse. It was nearing blows when a loud crack tore through the gathering, and a sword fell from the sky, stabbing a deep gouge into the earth. Everyone stared as it shook from the sudden impact. 

Harry would learn later that Ares tended to throw weapons on his kids. Maybe not so literally as this was. The celestial bronze blade shimmered with the purple glow of the magic Hecate had at her command. 

Clarisse gave Harry a small push. “Take it.”

He staggered toward the blade and pulled it from the ground using both hands but with little effort. It faded into swirls of magic, sinking into the veins of his left hand and up his arm. There, the magic settled into the shape of the sword and sank into his flesh, leaving only a faint shape on his forearm of the sword. 

A fission of power shot up his spine, and Harry gave his left hand a flourish, magic encircling his fingertips. Everything in him was screaming that it made him a freak, that a beating was coming, that everyone would hate him. But the barely-there sword flared to life glowing the same color as the magic dancing across his hand. 

Clarisse’s arm fell around his shoulder, pulling him into her side. “Anyone else have anything to say about Harry’s current living arrangement?”

And while there were still scowls and quiet mutters, no one could really say anything when the gods themselves had pretty well spoken. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Once Harry was claimed, everything changed and yet nothing did. He still lived in the Ares cabin, but the other Ares kids still treated him less like a second-class citizen when Clarisse wasn’t around. Not all of them were totally on board with him being considered one of them, since he wasn’t a son of Ares (they liked to remind him). Still, they taught him everything he wanted to learn, which was just about anything they would teach him.

The other Hecate kids at camp, sequestered in the Hermes cabin, still pressuring him to to return to Cabin Eleven to live with them, as they were his real family. He hadn’t had much luck with real family up to that point. His parents dead (or a goddess who had just entered his life), his aunt and uncle abusive and neglectful, his cousin a bully, and now, his siblings… treating him badly for wanting to stay with the one person who had chosen him.

Yeah, it hadn’t been a difficult choice to stay in the Ares cabin. And that choice was starting to turn the attention of the others from Cabin Five. Something about loyalty seemed to speak to them, and their dislike of him encroaching into their space was shifting into something more… he didn’t have a word for it. Grudging respect, maybe. 

Over the summer, he had finally felt like he belonged, like there were people like him, and people who liked him. It had taken weeks, and Clarisse policing his offerings, to get him eating regular, proper meals. He was sleeping better, too, having a proper bed and space to move and breathe. He still had a schedule, still worked hard, but now it was something he enjoyed. And he didn’t have to try to be worse than Dudley.

He spent time with Clarisse, Silena, and Beckendorf regularly. And Percy Jackson (much to Clarisse’s dismay). And Annabeth and the Athena cabin. Beckendorf even dragged him to the forge at least once a week, so he got to know the Hephaestus kids, too, including Nyssa who he’d tried to push off during the early days when he’d been scared. 

He had friends and no Dudley around to scare them off. Not that Dudley would have been able to scare these kids at all. Even Tina, a six-year-old Demeter kid (one of the youngest at camp) wouldn’t have been pushed around by Dudley or his goons. 

By the end of summer, Harry could hold his own with a sword against just about everyone except the Ares and Athena kids, and a few older kids from the other cabins. The others from the Ares cabin made sure he could handle a blade. While at first they’d seemed to enjoy beating him up (something he was very used to thanks to Dudley and his gang), his ability to get back up and keep trying had impressed them. So while they didn’t go easy on him, they were more willing to teach him than force him to learn only from his mistakes. And when you have people like Clarisse, Phil, and Michael teaching you to fight, you learn fast. 

Annabeth had also been working with him. She was less a teach-by-getting-your-butt-kicked and more a walk-you-through-it sort of teacher. It was through her he learned the other side of fighting, that jumping in head-on was only part of the strategy. Ambush tactics had their place, but didn’t always work. He could duck and dodge and run if it was too much for him. Ares kids never backed down. But Athena kids knew that sometimes it was better to retreat and regroup to recover your strength.

Annabeth and Clarisse seemed to have a mutual respect for each other, even if they didn’t act like friends. They both seemed alright with the other teaching Harry to fight. Clarisse didn’t like that fact that Percy tended to be around when Harry was working with Annabeth. She never said anything outright, but he could see her scowl whenever the son of Poseidon would show up. He knew the story of Clarisse’s hazing attempt (and was secretly relieved she hadn’t tried anything with him), so he sort of understood, and he was thankful she didn’t stop him from becoming friends with Percy.

Hecate had become a regular visitor. During her first visit, she told him about the druidic magic he possessed. She wouldn’t be able to teach him how to use it, but still, she was the goddess of magic; she understood it. She also told him what had caused him to become an orphan (so-to-speak). She told him about the war in the druidic world, about Voldemort, about how his parents had been willing to fight against him, about the culture that prized blood purity and how his mum had been looked down on. 

It had spilled over into their next visit, because Harry had come up with so many questions and had no one to talk to about it. Sure, he could tell Clarisse things, but she didn’t really understand and couldn’t answer his questions. 

After that, his mother’s visits turned into her teaching him to use his magic that he got from her. It took longer to start using magic, what with his aunt and uncle punishing him every time he’d done anything even slightly strange. It was ingrained into him to not be a freak, to quash down the strangeness. 

Still, he was growing. 

And then summer ended. More than three quarters of the camp left, having families who accepted them, or at the very least, didn’t hate them. Clarisse was staying, as were the Stolls from Hermes, Beckendorf, Silena, Nyssa, Will and Lou Ellen. There were others that he liked. The rest of his siblings were gone, which meant Harry and Lou Ellen could hang out without judgement. 

He didn’t go to school that year, but he learned loads. Chiron had a massive library in Ancient Greek that Harry poured over. He learned about the various monsters he might one day encounter. He learned about weapons, and then worked with the Ares kids to figure out if he liked wielding some of the stranger ones. Beckendorf and Nyssa also had fun forging those weapons as well. 

Silena had dragged him into learning how to dance. She insisted dancing would help with his fighting skills. He hadn’t believed her, until after two weeks of learning West Coast Swing, she showed him how to use it in combat. How learning to anticipate your dance partners moves could be transferred into anticipating how an opponent would fight, looking at muscle movements and learning how the body reacted. He, grudgingly, continued his lessons until he found them quite enjoyable. 

By Christmas, he was one of the better fighters, even if he wasn’t the best at using a sword. The Ares kids who were year-rounders had come to respect him as one of their own, since he could hold his own against all of them and beat most in a fight. They may be kids of the war god, with strength and brawn, but he was scrappy and fast as hell. It didn’t matter how strong someone was if they couldn’t land a blow (thank you, Annabeth). 

By then, he was also the designated snake wrangler. With the colder weather outside the valley, various cold-blooded critters made their way to the relative sanctuary of camp. And the cabins were even more inviting with the warmth they held. The Aphrodite kids would always have Harry deal with any scaly creature that found its way into their space. Same for a few of the Athena kids, about half of Demeter cabin, a third of Hermes, and overall just about everyone after Harry went off on a kid from the Hephaestus cabin who killed a snake (admittedly, it had been venomous, but Harry didn’t care). Everyone joked that he just spoke their language.

Christmas had been the best celebration he’d ever had. Of course, Gleeson had stopped by and spilled his birthday, which everyone had been annoyed to know he’d kept quiet. But Clarisse had silenced them, seeming to understand he’d never been celebrated before in his life, so that Christmas would be something to make up for birthdays and Christmases and any other vaguely celebratory holiday. 

He had dozens of presents, from clothing (from Silena), weapons and things related to them (from the Ares and Hephaestus kids), books (from Chiron and the Athena cabin), a tiny Hecate symbol charm (from Beckendorf and Lou Ellen), a frankly ridiculous number of contraband sweets and soda (courtesy of the Hermes kids), and a day pass to the city.

Harry took Beckendorf and Clarisse with him, and they met up with Percy (much to both his and Clarisse’s displeasure, but they put up with each other for Harry’s sake). They ran around New York City, with the birthday money Gleeson and Chiron had given him. Harry was fairly certain he saw the satyr shadowing them throughout the day.

They stopped in the sweet shop Mrs. Jackson (“Please, call me Sally”) worked in and bought a few bags of her stock. Then they spent the afternoon exploring, before heading back to camp for a feast. And as the day turned to night, Clarisse gave him her gift, a small charm in the shape of a sword, to remind him that even if he wasn’t Ares’s kid, he still belonged with them. 

The second half of the year had been better than everything that came before. He’d found a home and friends and he wouldn’t give them up for anything. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry woke to Clarisse banging her sword to her shield, the typical wake-up call of Cabin Five. He swung down from his bunk with ease. A year of proper meals and heavy training had changed him from the scrawny kid Gleeson Hedge had brought to camp nearly a year ago. He pulled on his shorts and camp shirt, then laced up his combat boots. His camp necklace fell from his collar, the one bead from last summer sitting alongside two charms: the tiny sword from Clarisse from Christmas and the tiny version of his mother’s symbol made by Beckendorf and Lou Ellen. 

He pulled his sword belt from where it hung on his bunk, wrapping it around his waist. Then his second sword went across his back. He and his surrogate siblings had been working on getting him capable to fighting with either hand. After Ares had claimed him, he found his left had as easy to use as his right, but most of those teaching him focused on one hand of the other. Clarisse had started teaching him to dual-wield weapons, and the others had followed her lead. She was the only one who knew the real reason, which she’d shared with him. She’d been told of his druidic ancestry and did some digging to find out they used wands. She didn’t want Harry to be defenseless because he was limited to a wand or a sword. 

The summer session was due to start in a couple weeks. He was going to miss the quieter season, but he also missed the other campers. Gleeson had popped in a few time throughout that time, checking in on him and Clarisse. He’d apparently been her satyr protector too. 

He joined Clarisse outside with a few other campers who would run the border of the camp every morning. Nyssa scowled at him. “I hate you.”

She’d lost a bet with him the other day, when he’d beaten her sparring. She wasn’t a morning person, and her loss meant a week of the early morning runs with him. This was only day two. 

They’d become good friends in during the quiet season. He’d spend time in the forge with her and Beckendorf and the others, mostly (at first) because it was warm, then because he liked talking to her while she worked. They had a bit of a rivalry going during various camp activities. She was stronger than him, that came from her work. He was faster and (Ares kid) better with a blade.

As they set off, he slowed his pace to match hers. He was easily one of the fastest kids at camp no matter the distance, probably thanks to Dudley’s gang chasing him constantly throughout his younger years. About halfway through, she was cursing at him. Beckendorf and the older Hephaestus kids were worse than Clarisse and the elder Ares kids when it came to language. Sure, they tried to tone it down around the younger campers, but even some of them could curse with the best of them. That’s what happens when kids spend time living on the streets. 

They reached Thalia’s tree (the halfway point), and Nyssa collapsed against it. “Give me a minute.”

Harry laughed, leaning against the trunk as they caught their breath. Then he froze. He stood up straight and pressed his hands flat to the trunk. The magic that usually pulsed inside it felt… slower. 

“Harry?” Nyssa asked. 

“Go get Chiron,” he said, reaching into his well of magic to feel what was wrong. “Now!”

She took off as he probed the tree with his magic. It felt… sick. He’d just found the source of the illness when he heard hoofbeats. Chiron slid to a stop beside where he knelt. Harry pulled a celestial bronze shaft from the tree. It was hollow and no bigger than the palm of his hand. 

“Let me see,” Chiron said, taking it from Harry with a gloved hand.

While the centaur looked it over, Harry found two more around the lower trunk near the roots. Then Chiron galloped off to investigate, leaving Harry behind. 

So, he cut his run short and raced to the Apollo cabin. “LEE!” He showed Lee the residue of whatever had been leaking from the barbs. While Lee wasn’t Harry’s biggest fan (and the feeling was mutual), he was the head medic of the Apollo cabin and the most experienced. 

Harry sent plenty of campers into Lee’s care and would avoid the infirmary even when he needed to go. He’d spent a good amount of time when he first arrived being poked and prodded by the medic, nearly every day for the first month. Lee would scowl and bark demands about eating and working too hard. And he would drag Harry in with infuriating regularity regarding “something off” about him. Harry suspected Lee just liked to remind people he could order them around. 

Don’t get him wrong, Harry knew Lee was good at what he did. But Harry was magic. He could take care of himself. He also tried to be helpful in the infirmary when his mother had first started training him. If he could use his magic to help people, it would make getting patients out of Lee’s care quicker. Lee had shot that down hard and fast.

Lee looked over Harry’s hands and paled, meeting his gaze. “This is poison, dangerous poison. It works slowly but will kill anything that takes it in.” He then enacted protocol 2319 (Harry was sure there was a joke in there somewhere because it was the only numbered protocol he’d heard from the medics) which involved Harry being whisked away and scrubbed and sanitized to within an inch of his life. 

That had been embarrassing, because the only Apollo kids around to help were Kayla and Bekka. He tried to protest, because he could bathe himself, and he certainly didn’t need eleven-year-old Kayla, or sixteen-year-old Bekka see him naked. Bekka threatened that they would use him for target practice if he didn’t let them work. Both girls were more like nurses, assisting Lee and Will who were better at healing, but they were scary good with a bow. A threat of being the target they used was a good way to actually get shot and need to be in the infirmary. So, blushing as it happened, he let them scrub him down. 

He ended his morning with breakfast under observation and a prescribed dose of nectar and ambrosia, just in case. Clarisse came in just as he was about to try to make his escape. He was bored. So, maybe he pissed Lee off by his unauthorized departures more often than not. 

“What the hell happened, kid?” she asked. 

“Thalia’s tree’s been poisoned,” he told her. “Lee said it’s slow acting, so it seems like we might want to prepare for a breakdown in the wards.”

She sat on the edge of his bed. “How’d you figure that out?” 

“I was with Nyssa on the run, and she needed to stop. I leaned against the tree, and I knew something was wrong. I sent her to get Chiron, and I found these little bolts.” He held up his fingers to give her a length. “They were hollow, but there was this residue. Chiron left pretty quickly, and I came to Lee to check it out. Once he realized what it was—“

“Code 2319,” Clarisse said with a smirk. She patted his leg. “I’m here to break you out.” She put a bag on his bed. “New clothes. They burned your others.”

Harry felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight of a shoebox in the bag. “Not my boots.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn it! I just got those broken in!”

She grinned. “I told you to have a few pairs broken in at all times.”

He grumbled at her as she stepped outside. He changed quickly, following her out. Lee handed Harry his sword belts, saying something about them being properly sanitized and to make sure he treated the leather every day for the next couple weeks to keep it from further damage. Harry flipped him off as he and Clarisse left.

They gathered the present councilors together to set up guard details, after explaining what happened. Until there was proof of the barrier breaking down, the guard rotations would only be during the day, because the Harpies wouldn’t discriminate as to why someone was out after curfew. 

It wasn’t until the next morning Chiron saw fit to make the announcement of the poisoned tree, by which time, everyone already knew. He gave Harry a disapproving look. 

Harry simply shrugged. “You didn’t tell me to keep things quiet.”

And by afternoon, the first monster had slipped into the borders of camp. The next weeks were filled with guard duty on top of extra training. Which had also meant his weekly training sessions with his mother had been put on hold. She’d come visit camp on Thursday evenings to help him hone his magic. The other Hecate kids had their own training times with Mother, and would share what they learned with each other, but were less agreeable with teaching him (“Well, you’ve decided you were an Ares kid, so why do you need us?” It was petty and annoying, really). 

The only one who seemed to actually like him was Lou Ellen who was only nine. Ultimately, it was alright, because Harry had another type of magic he didn’t mention to many people. So far, Chiron and Clarisse were the only ones who knew, and maybe Mr. D. But gods only knew what he paid attention to.

Then without warning, Chiron was removed from command and replaced with some asshole who made Mr. D look attentive, Tantalus. Harry hated him instantly, mostly because he tried to move Harry back into the Hermes cabin. That didn’t go over well with anyone. The Ares kids had pretty much accepted him as a member of Cabin Five and honorary child of Ares. And the rest of camp simply understood he belonged there (if only to keep Clarisse in check, because he was one of the few who could talk her down).

Harry woke to Clarisse storming into the cabin, mutter about Percy Jackson. “Everything alright?” he asked, propping himself up and rubbing at his eyes. 

“Shit, sorry, kid,” she said. “Forgot you were asleep. Uneventful night shift?”

He’d taken on being one of the overnight guards, since he did well in the darkness. He got back to the cabin around dawn, a couple hours before she got up. She usually woke him up after her midday shift with whatever had been saved for him from lunch. The day shift guards were on shorter rotation times because of heat and boredom. Despite his ADHD, Harry covered the entire night from lights out until just before dawn. Something about it calmed his racing thoughts. But then, Hecate was called the Night Walker, so maybe it was part of his birthright as her child.

“It was fine.” He sat up, reaching for his glasses. “I take it yours wasn’t.”

She scowled and leaned against their shared bunkbed, telling him about the arrival of Percy and Annabeth, along with a cyclops, and the fight with the Colchis bulls. “Go back to sleep. You still have a couple hours.”

He hopped down. “Nope, I’m up. I’m going to check on the tree and see if Beckendorf has my new spear finished yet. I have a feeling things are going to get worse before they get better.”

When he got to the hill, Thalia’s tree wasn’t doing any better, but it also wasn’t much worse, since the satyrs had taken up posts to play healing music to it. He knelt down with them, pressing his hands to the trunk. He wasn’t great with healing magic, since the Apollo kids got a bit touchy if he tried to learn anything in their domain. (Mostly it was Lee, but the others followed his lead.)

“Thank you.” 

Harry turned to see satyr-Harry sitting beside him. It was a running joke between the two of them. To the demigods, they were Harry and satyr-Harry, and the satyrs called them Harry and human-Harry. They liked to mess with people and insisted (when they were together) they differentiate by the species prefix. 

Satyr-Harry was a bit taller than him, with fluffy, black, curls hiding most of his horns, and dark skin. He was still fairly young by satyr standards, at only eighteen. He’d been set to go out in search of demigod kids when everything had gone bad. He was enlisted to help with Thalia’s tree instead, which is how the two Harry’s had become friends. 

“I don’t know how much I’m helping,” Harry admitted. 

The satyr put a hand on his shoulder. “But you’re trying.”

Harry stood and brushed off his hands and knees. “I have some things to do. Let me know if she gets worse.” He and the satyrs had taken to calling the tree ‘she’ since she’d once been a girl. 

The horn summoning everyone to lunch sounded, and Beckendorf fell into step with Harry. He tossed him a small tube that looked like a flashlight. He pushed the button to turn it on, and it extended into a spear. 

Harry grinned, spinning it around. “Thanks, Charlie.”

Beckendorf pulled him into a headlock and noogied him. “You’re lucky I like you, brat.”

They laughed together as they reached the dining pavilion and went their separate ways. Harry ignored most of what was going on while he ate, thinking through the magic Hecate had been teaching him. There had to be something that could heal the tree, some form of magic. 

Then Tantalus spoke, telling them about the reinstatement of the chariot races. And then he put an end to guard duty. Harry met Clarisse’s concerned glare. This wasn’t right. Then the cyclops, Tyson, was claimed by Poseidon, much to the amusement of everyone. 

As they departed lunch, Harry pulled Clarisse aside. “I’m not stopping my guard shift.”

She nodded. “Good.”

He returned to Cabin Five and pulled on his armor. It was going to become his normal day-ware until the border was strengthened. Then he went to the stables to get his normal horse to run a border check. Brimstone was an easy mare who knew Harry’s style well by now. He’d learned to ride on her. She didn’t like most of the campers, the satyrs informed him. He gave her an apple before he swung up into the saddle, trotting out of the stable to the border. 

“Harry,” Chiron called. 

He pulled his mount to a stop as the centaur came up beside him. “You’re leaving.”

“Until someone can prove I am not at fault, I have no place here.”

Harry scowled. The gods were idiots if they thought Chiron would dare endanger his charges. Anyone with a brain had to know it was Kronos or one of his minions. 

“Be careful, my boy. You are still young and have much still to learn.” He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Keep what you know of your parentage to yourself. I think it would be unwise for Kronos to discover your other lineage.”

He nodded. “I’ll do what I can for Thalia’s tree.”

Chiron gave a sad smile. “I know you will.” And he raced off.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry was on patrol, again. His ADHD was playing up big time, which meant something was coming, something big. He had wanted to support his cabin in the chariot race, but something was telling him it was a bad idea. 

When Clarisse had asked him to be the driver of Cabin Five’s chariot, he had almost agreed. But something wasn’t right. So he’d turned it down saying the Ares chariot should have his kids in it. Clarisse had let his excuse go without argument, because he suspected she had the same concerns he did. With everyone wanting to be at the race to cheer on their cabins, Harry had opted to be on guard duty. 

After Tantalus had ended guard duty, officially, some of the campers had still come to Harry and Clarisse to stay on rotation. And the harpies, who would normally attack campers out of bed after hours, let Harry and a couple others, who had taken up the night shift, run their patrols with little interference. Occasionally, Harry had even felt their presence watching over the border as well. 

The cyclops Percy had shown up with had spent a good amount of time in the forges with Beckendorf and the Hephaestus kids. Nyssa liked him well enough. Harry hadn’t gotten much chance to talk to him with his self-imposed schedule. During one of his breaks, he’d stopped by to hang out with his friends, talking about a couple weapons he’d found in his research. Of course, he hadn’t mentions it was weapons from Travis Stoll’s book about dungeons and dragons or something like that. 

Tyson had gotten really excited hearing about the ins and outs of a whip dagger and a chakram. When Beckendorf dragged Tyson off to work of some swords, Harry had fallen asleep. When he’d woken, he found two whip daggers (one sharp, one dulled for training) and two stacks of chakram (with the same set up). 

Harry felt a little bad that the cyclops had interpreted his explaining the weapons at his curious enquiries as a request, but Tyson shook his head. “Was fun!” He beamed, near bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Can make more if you like.”

“Not now, but thanks, big guy.” And Harry left for patrol. He still hadn’t had time to try them out or even look at them. They sat on his shelf in the Ares armory, a shelf no one dared to touch. He had a ton of random shit. Even the campers who prided themselves in being able to fight with anything and everything shied away from some of his experimental weapons. Or maybe they were just afraid if they stole his things he might use those weapons on them (which he probably would). 

He rode Brimstone, as usual, around the edge of camp. His mount was jumpy, or maybe she was feeding off his anxiety. She snorted as they stopped, stomping her hoof.

“You feel something?” he asked her, patting her neck. Not for the first time, he wished he had Percy’s ability to speak to horses. 

Then he heard screaming coming from the newly built arena. He wheeled Brimstone around and took off at a breakneck gallop. When he arrived, he saw chaos. Birds were attacking from all angles, diving into the crowd, attacking the charioteers. He raced onto the track, nearly colliding with the Cabin Five chariot that hadn’t seemed to notice the mayhem. 

“Harry?” Clarisse called. “What the fuck?” Then she said, “What the fuck?” The first had been filled with annoyance at him, probably thinking he had been trying to cause trouble. He’d been on the receiving end of that tone before. The second was more panicked, so she’d probably noticed the ensuing madness. 

Brimstone reared and fell backward as the birds attacked the horse. Harry hit the ground and rolled before she fell on top of him. “Go!” he shouted at her, hoping that without a demigod on her, the birds would leave her be.

Something pulled him up by the back on his armor, setting him on his feet. Then Clarisse swung a sword at a bird coming at them. Harry pulled out his new spear and activated it. He’d been practicing with it, but this would be his first chance to use it for real. He fought his way over to the spectators, finding a group of cowering kids, the new campers who hadn’t had a chance to learn much, or the young ones who hadn’t faced anything more than straw dummies yet. 

He stuck his spear into the ground and cast a shield over his head, encasing the non-combatants. And there he stood, even as birds began to dive-bomb the sphere of glowing violet. Then Chiron’s music began to play, loudly, and the birds went wild. Soon enough, they were safe again, and Harry let the shield fall. 

A little Aphrodite girl, Reagan maybe, hugged him around the waist. With the music off, everything was really quiet. Clarisse clapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to face her. She gave him a proud smile, and her lips moved. Then her face turned to worry, and his nose began to tickle. He brushed his hand under it, and it came away with blood smeared across his fingers. 

He heard a soft “Medic!” that sounded a lot like Clarisse, but it looked like she had screamed it. 

He blinked and then the sky was in front of him, and he felt like he was flying. Then the Big House loomed into view. Was someone carrying him? He’d just been on the race track. His head lolled to the side, and he saw Clarisse. So she was carrying him? That was a bit embarrassing, even if it wasn’t the first time. 

She carried him into the infirmary and placed him in one of the beds. When she lowered his head, gently, to the pillow, he gave her an assuring smile. He’d had worse. He’d be fine.

“Will,” Clarisse called. “His eyes started bleeding on the way up here.”

Will Solace appeared beside them. He was a year older than Harry (but in Harry’s opinion one of the best medics in the Apollo cabin. Lee might have a bit more skill, but he had a better bedside manner).  He pushed the cup of what was likely nectar into Clarisse’s hand and pulled out a pen light. He took off Harry’s glasses, and the light flashed into his eyes. “He was the one who conjured that shield over the younger kids, right?” 

“Yeah,” Harry said, despite the question being angled at Clarisse.

Will followed up, speaking directly to him, this time. “Have you ever cast a spell of that magnitude before?”

“I’ve cast that shield before, but never for that long or with something… you know… testing it.”

Will looked up Harry’s nose which in any other situation would have felt weird. “Did you feel anything else?”

“I was talking to him,” Clarisse said. “Asked him a couple questions. He didn’t answer.”

She had? “I didn’t hear anything.”

Will then checked his ears. “Any ringing, either before or now?”

“No.”

Will sat back and took the nectar from Clarisse. “I think you just overdid it. You pushed yourself a little too far, and you ruptured some blood vessels.” He pressed a hand to Harry’s chest, and his eyes narrowed. “There doesn’t seem to be anything else outside the norm, apart from exhaustion.” He handed Harry the cup of nectar. “Drink up. Lee will probably want to keep you for observation for a couple hours.” He stood up. “No sleeping.”

Clarisse sighed and scrubbed at her face. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Harry took a long sip of nectar, tasting warm brownies. “I’m fine.”

Then she looked angry. “I didn’t know that. One minute you were standing there, then you went pale, and your nose started bleeding. And then you just slumped against me. Then your eyes are bleeding.” She pushed her fingers through her hair, tearing her bandana off. 

He reached out and took her hand. “It’s what we were signed up for, being demigods.”

“But you’re a kid.”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “So are you, and everyone else here. Monsters don’t care. I just wish I had been able to do more.”

“You protected the non-combatants. That’s just as important.”

“But you and the rest of the cabin were fighting.”

“You’re not one of us, though, an Ares kid.” She looked almost pained when she said it. “I mean everyone thinks of you as one of us, but… Ares kids have this ingrained ability to know the best way to fight. Your mother is Hecate. You use magic. And that’s okay. My first reaction is to charge into a fight, sword swinging. Your best weapon is your magic as much as any blade.” She cast a glance around, then dropped her voice. “And soon enough, you’ll be learning a whole new type of magic. Just you wait. You’ll be a force all your own, little brother.”

Harry finally escaped the infirmary as the dinner horn rang through the camp. Lee had been petty and kept him most of the day. Although, Will’s worried glances as he left probably meant it wasn’t petty, but Harry was a little biased. The two of them had checked him over a few times and then crossed the room to whisper with their heads pressed together and cast him worried glances, one right before he’d been allowed to leave. 

The meal was subdued, without the usual riotous behavior from his table. Everyone kept casting him worried glances. Lou Ellen stopped by to check on him and spent a moment gushing over his magic. He did his best to humor her, before she hurried back to the Hermes table. 

He was exhausted. Between the long shifts on guard and the taxing magic earlier, he just wanted to sleep. He hadn’t realized quite how exhausted, until he woke to Phil shaking him. The burly older boy guided Harry back to the cabin and boosted him into his bed. 

He dozed as the rest of the cabin prepared for bed. Clarisse’s voice filtered into his dreams. “You shall sail the iron ship with warriors of bone. You shall find what you seek and make it your own, but despair for your life entombed within stone.”

He woke near midnight. Something wasn’t right. He leaned over the edge of his bunk and found the bed beneath his empty. He crept down and out of the cabin. He hoped the harpies were still ignoring his being out even if he wasn’t on duty. It didn’t take long to check through Clarisse’s usual haunts and find her in the armory, sitting behind the row of spears

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

Something was bothering her, and he hoped it wasn’t him. He knew the last weeks had been wearing on her, because everyone was looking to her for answers, for plans, for protection. She was the head of the Ares cabin. She was big and mean and scary, to camper and monster alike. Harry was one of the only ones she let see her softer side, the side that was kind and as scared as everyone else. 

“I’m being sent on a quest,” she said softly, “to find the Golden Fleece.”

Harry sat beside her. “Did you tell everyone in the cabin your prophecy earlier?”

She nodded. 

“Who are you taking?”

There was a long silence as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “No one. No one volunteered.”

“I’ll go.”

“No.” It was a tone he knew well, but had never been on the receiving end of it. Why was she angry at him? Except it wasn’t anger, but it was damn close. She was tense, eyes wide and blazing, and clenched fists didn’t quite hide the tremor. It was panic.

Gods, she was terrified. He’d never seen her like this. “Why?”

Her jaw worked for a few moments before the words trickled out as little more that a whisper. “Because I… I didn’t tell the others the last line of the prophecy. I… I didn’t… I don’t…” She gulped, looking at her hands. “You shall sail the iron ship with warriors of bone. You shall find what you seek and make it your own, but despair for your life entombed within stone. And fail without friends, to fly home alone.”

“You have to take someone.” He stared at her. “The prophecy—”

She scowled. “Prophecies can be misleading. Sometimes they speak literally, sometimes they’re poetic, sometimes they’re self-fulfilling.”

“Quests are undertaken in threes.”

“Not always.”

“You need some kind of help.”

“Not you.”

Harry felt his heart sink. “If you didn’t want me to come, you could have just said that.” 

He started to stand, but she pulled him back down. Then her arms were around him in a rare lasting embrace as she held him to her. This was the side of her he loved, the doting sister.  The one who liked hugs and physical touch. The soft side that she kept quashed beneath the hard exterior. 

“I want nothing more that to take you with me, but… I can’t risk you. It would kill me if you died. And the prophecy says I make it home, but alone. This is a suicide quest, Harry. A prophecy could have so many interpretations. Besides, I need you here.” She pushed him back to look at him. “To help with the tree, to keep everyone in line, to keep up patrols. Because I’ve made sure you’ve built a strong backbone this last year. You won’t let Tantalus push you around.”

“When do you leave?”

“Dawn.”

They sat together until they fell asleep, leaning against each other. As night began to give way to day, Harry woke, shaking Clarisse to get up, too. They spared another few minutes for a long embrace, before anyone might see it. 

“Stay safe,” Harry whispered. “And come back.”

“I’ll do my best, kid.”

He helped her pack her bag and weapons, and she walked out into the dawn. 

Chapter Text

Harry

After Harry saw Clarisse off, he had a lot to do. Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson had disappeared, and the head-ass had banished them from camp. Thalia’s tree was still slowly dying, and the wards were fading, so he returned to his cabin. 

After a quick shower, he pulled on his armor and all his various weapons. His gaze lingered on the new weapons Tyson had made for him, but he didn’t have the time to figure out how to use them. Even with camp being back to near-full strength, he would feel better being on patrol. They had so many kids who weren’t proper fighters or were out of practice. He’d just finished with his last belt, when the general noise of the cabin went quiet. He picked up his spear and turned to see Tantalus standing in the doorway.

“This isn’t your place, boy,” he snarled. “You’re no son of Ares.”

Harry set his free hand ablaze with the violet flames of his magic, even while it hung at his side. He smirked as Tantalus flinched. If Harry were to guess, he had dealings with Harry’s mother. “You can go fuck yourself.”

Tantalus bristled, taking a step toward Harry. And the Ares kids around him stood, ready to come to his defense. The activities director’s eyes flitted around the room. Harry lifted his hand, extinguishing the fire and motioning for his surrogate family to stand down. His cabin-mates relaxed slightly seeing his gesture, but still looked like they would jump into a fight should the need arise. It hadn’t taken long for the seasonal campers to realize the year rounders had fully accepted Harry into their cabin and had fallen into line. 

“You are a child.” Spittle flew from his mouth. “You will listen to me. Do you have any idea what I did to the last insolent child—”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare. It’s one thing to murder your own child, but—” Harry clicked his tongue. “—a god’s child…” He swung his spear around until it was pointed at Tantalus’s throat. “I may be a child of Hecate, but the children of Ares have claimed me.” He let magic swirl in his left palm again, and the mark on his forearm shimmered against his skin. “And Ares has accepted me. This is where I belong and where I’ll stay. Now get out of my way. I have a patrol to run.”

When Tantalus didn’t move, Harry used his spear to shove him aside. Phil and Michael jogged up beside him. 

“That was awesome,” Phil said. “So what’s the plan?”

Harry slid a glance sideways. “The plan?”

“Yeah,” Michael said. “The plan. We need to set up patrols. Are we going by cabin or by assigned groups.”

Harry stopped. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you and Clarisse were kinda in charge of that.”

“That’s only because…” There wasn’t really a reason. There had been a need, and he’d stepped up.

Connor and Travis appeared as if from the ether. “Have you still not figured out that you have become a sort of protégé to Clarisse?” Travis said. 

Harry stammered. “I’m a what?” 

Connor chuckled. “I hate to break it to you kid, but you’re kinda in charge around here, now.”

Harry inhaled so sharply he choked on his own spit.

The days dragged by, with everything Phil, Michael, and the Stolls had said becoming increasingly evident. People deferred to Harry for a great many things. And it was beginning to wear on him. He was only ten, nearly eleven, but still he was a kid. He hadn’t even been at camp a full year. There were more experienced and older campers but apparently him being taken under Clarisse’s wing was enough to set him apart. 

He had a few stints in the infirmary after monster attacks, adding to his scars collection (since before it had pretty much only been the one on his forehead). Some kind of ghost thing had been scaring the horses in the stables, and Harry and the Hecate kids manage to cast it out, but not before it had charged at Lou Ellen, being the smallest. Harry had thrown himself in the thing’s path and ended up with four lines clawed across his chest even after the Apollo kids had healed him. 

Another had been a creature he’d learned was a manticore (when one of the Athena kids, Malcolm, had told him) had charged the sparring field. It had been one of the times Harry hadn’t been on patrol, but was doing some training. Its sting had grazed his leg when he’d rolled away from it. Before he’d even gotten to his feet, it was turning to dust from the other campers coming to his aid. The venom was quickly dealt with by a heavy does of nectar and ambrosia. 

The last one came from more of those damn birds from the chariot race. One bird managed to dive-bomb him before he or any of his patrol noticed the dozen birds were there. So now he had a scar across the bridge of his nose and right cheek. 

In all three situations, Lee had tried to keep him on bedrest, but Harry had cursed at him and gotten back to his day. Which hadn’t really helped his sleep deprivation (oh hindsight) or the tenuous relationship Harry had with the head medic. He probably should have taken that time, but he’d been trying to not fail the campers who were now relying on him for leadership (which had been a really bad decision on everyone’s part, really). How did Clarisse deal with it?

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Clarisse had left. Between the stress, and the patrols fucking up his sleep schedules, and the general madness of the camp being attacked by monsters at all hours, he’d lost all semblance of time. He was irritable and short tempered. He’d even shouted at little Tina when she’d only asked him if he’d like a flower crown she’d made. 

She’d run off, and Katie Gardner had stormed up to him, telling him off. They’d devolved into a shouting match until Will had walked up beside them and sent him to bed for a couple hours, a suggestions Harry had blown off. 

It wasn’t until Nyssa asked him to come help her that he’d listened to anyone. She needed his help in the forge on a project she wanted to imbue with magic. They sat down to talk about designs, and then she started sketching. And in one of those bouts of silence (as much as the forge could be silent) he’d drifted off. 

When Harry woke, he felt terrible for how he’d been acting. He thanked Nyssa, who gave him an infuriatingly pleased smile, and immediately found the two Demeter girls and apologized. Tina then stuck the flower crown on Harry’s head and told him he had to wear it, or she wouldn’t forgive him. 

He felt extra bad when she’d put it on him and some of his fatigue had drained away. She’d been trying to help him in the only way she knew how, giving him a magical wreath that would give him energy. She gave him a defiant little smirk when he mentioned it. “I told you it would help.”

Once word got out what the floral crowns did, just about everyone who had been running patrols was wearing them, and Tina was ecstatic. 

Another few days went by in the same hectic manner, until a horn sounded. Harry took off, racing toward the border. Others joined him, forming up. Only it wasn’t a monster this time. It was Clarisse. With the Golden Fleece in her arms. 

Harry raced forward and threw his arms around her. She looked and smelled like she’d been on a quest that had taken her to all manner of… unsavory things. But he didn’t care. She’d made it back safe. There was quite a commotion as word spread and everyone came to see the conquering hero in the flesh. 

So, Harry took a step back, letting everything happen around him. He sat down on a bench and watched the excitement. 

Harry woke late into the night. He was in the infirmary. He sat up, rolling his neck. He felt around for his weapons, finding himself woefully unarmed. 

“Phil took everything back to the cabin.”

He turned and found Clarisse in the bed beside his. She sat up and turned to face him. 

“You all but passed out, you know. Have you been sleeping?”

He scrubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been stressed.”

She winced. “I didn’t mean for everyone to push everything onto you. I figured you’d head up the patrols, but from what Phil and Michael told me, everyone kinda replaced me with you.”

He felt tears sting at his eyes. Everything he’d been feelings since she left crashed over him. The stress and the fear and the anger and the confusion and the worry. His bed dipped as she moved to sit beside him, pulling him into an embrace, and he sobbed from the wave of conflicting emotions. And she let him. There was no judgement as he broke down. How many times had she slipped away to do the same thing. Did she ever have someone to comfort her?

“It’s okay, kid. I’ve been told you did amazing. And that you stuck it to Tantalus.”

He gave her a watery smile. “I wanted to make you proud.”

“And you have.” 

He wiped his eyes. “What happened after…”

“You passed out?”

He made a face at her, making her laugh. 

“Chiron showed up with Percy, Annabeth and that cyclops. Apparently, you were on patrol when Percy managed to Iris message Mr. D while Luke was admitting to orchestrating everything with poisoning Thalia’s tree, so they were let back in. Tantalus was banished back to the Underworld. And I hung the Golden Fleece in the tree. The border wards are back to normal, and the tree is getting stronger. Chiron still has people on guard duty, until he has something to protect the Fleece and the tree. There’s one last chariot race before we retire them again, and I want you to be my driver.”

Harry smiled. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Harry

The next day was less stressful. Harry got to meet the Party Ponies before they left. Chiron seemed relieved when they did. The other centaurs were so different from him. They were rowdy and crass and hilarious. 

Once they left, Harry found himself alone for the first time in… maybe weeks. More than a week at least. He still wasn’t sure how long it had been. With Clarisse and Chiron back, most of the responsibility that had been shoved onto him was lifted. 

He walked up to the patio of the big house at Chiron’s summons. The activities director sat in his wheelchair, a book in hand. He looked up at Harry’s approach, smiling at him. 

“Join me, Harry.” He motioned to the chair beside him. 

They were quiet for a long time, looking out over the camp. The damage caused by the various monster attacks was mostly repaired. Everyone was back to standard training, with only a small contingent of guards around the Golden Fleece. 

“You did very well,” Chiron finally said. “The responsibility of protecting camp should never have fallen to you, but I’m impressed with how you handled things. All the cabin councilors have sang your praise.”

“Even Katie?” Harry asked, remembering the massive argument they’d had.

“She understands. The fact that you apologized when you realized you were out of line speaks volumes to your character, Harry.”

Harry felt his face heat in a blush. Praise was still something he wasn’t used to. 

“There’s another matter I wish to discuss with you.” Chiron turned his wheelchair to face him. “You will be eleven soon. In the coming weeks, you should be receiving a letter from the magical school your parents attended. You will have a choice to make. Do you follow that path and become a seasonal camper, or do you turn your back on that part of your life and remain here?”

Harry froze. He didn’t want to leave, but he had known the other part of his magic would need training. “Where is it?”

“Scotland. If I recall correctly, the first of September is when you would head to school, the year ending mid-June.”

Harry swallowed hard. Could he deal with being away from his family for so long?

As if reading his thoughts, Chiron added. “I believe there is a break for Christmas and in the spring. You would be able to come home for those. I’m sure everyone here would appreciate that, too.” He reached forward and put a hand on Harry’s arm. “You don’t need to answer, now, but it’s a choice that will be coming for you.”

Harry nodded and stood. Phil and Michael walked by, shouting at him that they were headed to finish the chariot. Harry grinned and leapt down the stairs to join them. 

As the teams prepared for the race, Harry found himself falling back into the routine of being the little brother in Cabin Five, again. Some of the older campers, who just days ago would obey him without question, were back to messing with him. 

“They don’t have to make others listen to you, now,” Clarisse told him when he brought it up during a water break. “If your own cabin doesn’t respect you, no one else will. They were giving the rest of camp a reason to follow your lead.”

Harry looked over at the kids who were quickly becoming his siblings as much as Clarisse was. “I kinda missed it.”

Clarisse bumped her shoulder to his. “You’re our little brother. We can mess with you, but gods help anyone else that does.” She stood and offered him a hand up. “We need to get changed. The race should be starting soon.”

The race went well enough, even if the Ares chariot didn’t win. Clarisse wasn’t even mad about it. She spent most of the race laughing at the others when Harry cut them off or angled them so she could do some damage. And, sure, the Athena/Poseidon chariot won, but Clarisse wasn’t even annoyed. 

The quest had changed her. He wanted to ask her about it, but he wasn’t sure how. Because there was still a small part of him that was upset at her for refusing to take him, even if he understood her reasoning at the time. She had always had his back. He wanted a chance to return the favor.

After dinner, he started to follow the rest of Cabin Five to the campfire, but Clarisse pulled him away. They ended up on the dock, feet dangling into the water. 

And she told him everything. From the ship to rescuing Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson. The monsters, being captured by Polyphemus, escaping, flying home. Everything he’d been hearing rumors about all day. And then there were the things he hadn’t heard. She told him about Ares and his expectations, about her fear at disappointing him, about the terror at being held captive in the cave of the cyclops. 

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to deal with the expectations,” she whispered. “That I didn’t have this looming bar I need to reach.”

Harry shifted to look at her. “Maybe you don’t need to. The gods… they don’t know what it’s like to be us. Or if they did, once upon a time, they’ve forgotten. Ares holds you to the same standard Zeus holds him, which means you’re being held to a godly standard. You’ll never measure up to that.” He gave a derisive snort. “Ares can’t even measure up, because Zeus is…” He had to be careful when speaking about the king of the gods. “Zeus.”

They sat quietly for a long time, listening to the sing-along happening in the distance.

“Do you think the gods would interact with their kids any differently if there wasn’t the command to stay away?”

Clarisse stiffened. “Your mother would. She’d definitely have all her kids visit her, at the very least. But I think it’s the same as their expectations. They don’t remember what it’s like, if they ever knew. Time means nothing to them. Popping in once a year probably feels like weekend visitation. I don’t know what I’d do if Ares popped in more than he does.”

“Why?”

She was quiet for a long moment. “He’s… a lot. He’s a bit sexist. He told me at the beginning of my quest it should have been one of the guys given the quest and not me.”

“But you’re… you,” Harry said. “You’re awesome and strong and the best fighter at camp. He was probably just saying that to get under your skin.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t the first time. He likes to trash talk and make threats. It’s just how he is.”

Harry froze. “What kind of threats?”

Clarisse brushed him off. “I don’t think I could deal with him coming around every week like your mother does. His teaching method is worse than Michael and Phil’s.” She stood, helping him up. “You should get some sleep. You’re on the early shift tomorrow, right?”

Harry shrugged. “Not officially on any shift, anymore.”

She ruffled his hair. “But you miss it.” She threw her arm around his shoulder, and they walked toward the cabin.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry stepped out of Cabin Five just before two in the morning. Annabeth was waiting for him. She passed him a granola bar as they walked toward the tree. How she knew he’s be joining her, he didn’t know. Maybe Clarisse had warned her. 

A security harpy swooped overhead, cutting low. Annabeth jumped, eyes flitting around for cover. 

“We’re supposed to be out,” Harry reminded her. 

She straightened with a nod, giving him a slow head-to-toe look. As they reached the tree, Phil stood from his places by the trunk of the tree. His shift partner, Ryan, from the Demeter cabin, looked like he was nodding off. 

During border protection, Ryan had been very willing to do the night shifts, but not good at it. Harry walked up to him, knocking his arm out from where his cheek rested on his fist. His head dropped and snapped up. “I’m not asleep!”

“Right.” Annabeth was less than amused. “Go to bed. Harry and I are taking over, now.”

Harry sat down, leaning against one of the logs that had been brought over in the early days of the tree’s protection. There were torches on either end, bathing the area in warm light. He tipped his head back, as Annabeth sat on the log.

Overhead, stars twinkled brightly. Clouds circled the camp, lightning occasionally flashing.

“You’re different,” Annabeth said. 

He cast her a sideways glance. “You’re supposed to be watching the tree, not me.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile played across her lips. “I can do both.” She shifted to look more directly at him. “But, really. You’ve changed.” Her gaze turned critical, almost calculating. “It’s like last summer with Percy. He changed so much during our quest for the Master Bolt.”

He stood up, walking toward the tree. “I didn’t go on a quest." He pressed his hands to the trunk. He knew what everyone was saying, the Fleece was healing the tree. But he still needed to feel it for himself. 

Annabeth followed him, leaning against the trunk to look him in the face. “I know we didn’t have a lot of time before everything… you know. But you were still the tiny kid that arrived here last summer. Sure, you were a bit more sure of yourself, but you still sunk into the shadows of Clarisse and Michael and Phil and the other older campers from the Ares Cabin.”

The magic of the tree was flowing as it had before the tree had been poisoned, better actually. With the added power of the Golden Fleece, the protection magic pulsed beneath his fingers. 

He turned away to sit back on the log. “And?”

Annabeth stared at him like a puzzle. “Now, you cast your own shadow. You’re more confident, more sure of your place.” She sat down beside him. “I know everyone’s talking about Clarisse and me and Percy and everything we did. Percy and I broke the rules, and Clarisse brought back the Fleece, and we got Chiron back, and outed Luke’s plans. Quests are a big deal.” She sat down beside him. “But they’re talking about you, too.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “And what are they saying about me?”

“You think people only told Chiron things?” 

“I know that. He talked to me already. He needed a report of the hell we’d been going through with the asshole in charge.”

She shook her head with a smile. “Oh, Harry, you’re an idiot. The camp was still standing, and no one was dead. That’s really all he needed to know. While you were in the infirmary, he called all the counselors into a meeting. Phil and Michael came with Clarisse, since she was on the quest. And Malcolm and Josie came with me.”

She started to fidget with her necklace and the beads from many summers at camp. “Chiron asked about the tree, about the barrier, about the injured. He asked about the border patrols and what you all had been dealing with. Beckendorf said you’d set up the protection detail, and then…” She gave a soft laugh. “Everyone was talking about you. I don’t even think they meant to. They were each giving accounts, and you just came up.”

Harry felt his face heat up. He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“You were the one who set up the patrols, which impressed a lot of my cabin, by the way. You made sure each patrol was of equal strength, kept them short during the heat of the day, made sure everyone was rested. Not that you stayed rested. Lee was annoyed there.”

“Lee can screw off,” Harry muttered. 

Annabeth laughed. “Yeah, he mentioned you didn’t like his attempts to try to keep you standing. Apparently he wants Chiron to wash out your mouth with soap. Clarisse then told him to go fuck himself.”

He snorted. Clarisse always had his back, even when he wasn’t around. 

“He’s also pissed that you seem to listen to Will and not him, since after you and Katie got into a screaming match, Will sent you to bed, and you listened.”

Harry bristled. “To be fair, Lee kept trying to force me off shift, and Will told me to take a nap since I wasn’t on shift.”

“We all know you don’t get along with Lee, so don’t start that. But Will seemed quite pleased with himself when he told me about it.”

“It wasn’t Will. I didn’t even mean to— What I mean is—” He cut himself off, scowling. 

“What you mean is, your best friend tricked you into sleeping, and since Nyssa was the one making the suggestion, you listened. But that’s beside the point. You took the night shift, when you could have—and probably should have—split it out to more campers. You were the first to jump into fights, even when you were supposed to be sleeping.”

“Monsters don’t care that people are sleeping!”

“I’m not faulting you, Harry. You stepped up when there were others that could have. I mean, sure, you’ve been learning things from Clarisse, but even she was annoyed everyone just accepted putting everything they usually put on her onto you. Chiron wasn’t entirely please, either, that both she and you had needed to take on so much.”

Harry sagged a bit. He’d tried his best. 

Annabeth leaned closer. “Hey, he wasn’t upset at anything you did. I might have eavesdropped after he excused us. He and Mr. D got into it. And it seemed like it hadn’t been the first argument they’d had. Chiron was furious he let campers take on so much of the responsibility around the camp’s protection and let Tantalus treat you all the way he did.”

Harry scowled. Dionysus had been as absent as he’d always been. It wasn’t like he’d changed without Chiron there. Chiron just wasn’t there to act as a buffer for the god’s indifference. “Bet Mr. D had some things to say to that.”

“‘The kid did fine. He even stuck it to that jackass a few times.’ And that’s a quote. So, it wasn’t just the campers you impressed.”

He fixed Annabeth with a quizzical glare. “Yeah, I’m not exactly counting impressing Dionysus as a win.”

“You impressed a god. Don’t sell yourself short. Not to mention, your mother adores you, Hestia loves you, and don’t forget that Ares lets you live in his cabin. So he doesn’t hate you.”

They fell into a companionable silence watching as the horizon began to lighten with the first signs of dawn. He’d been observing his shift partner as the hours passed. Her brows knit together, the furrow getting deeper and deeper between them, until…

“What would make you join Kronos?”

Chapter Text

Harry

Annabeth’s voice spoke so softly, as the sun peeked over the edge of the world. It was almost like she was afraid for the words to come out. Weren’t they all, though?

What would make his join Kronos?

Harry turned to look at her. Her scowl had broken into something more… well broken. “I don’t know. You?”

She let her face fall into her hands. “I used to think Luke and I would always be on the same side. I never would have imagined him doing anything like what he is. I mean, it’s one thing to be angry at the gods. How many demigods have been across history? But he’s willing to take out his rage on the mortals. The way he talks about them… gods, it was awful.”

He’d been hearing stories— rumors, really— over the last year about Luke and Kronos. Percy had told him the things Luke had said before he abandoned camp. Now, Annabeth… 

Hell, he’d been having the dreams everyone else talked about. The promise of a place to belong, a future free of the Olympians who didn’t give a damn about their mortal children, who lined them up like cannon fodder. A future where demigods didn’t need to hide from the rest of the mortal world. 

And the more dreams he had, the more the future that Kronos was promising felt like the world his parents had died fighting to prevent. It sounded like the views of the blood supremacist who had murdered his parents and tried to kill him. 

“I don’t think I ever would,” Harry found himself saying. 

Annabeth stared at him for a long moment. “How do you know?” It sounded so pained, like she knew she shouldn’t, and maybe wouldn’t, be tempted by anything Kronos could say, but the hesitation was still there. 

How did he answer that? If he gave her to truth, he’d have even more questions because of her inquisitive mind. But there was a part of him that knew he could trust her.

Harry took a deep breath. “My mother told me about my parents, about how they died, and how I got this.” He brushed a finger over the scar on his forehead. “Have you ever heard of druids?”

Annabeth nodded, looking confused. “They were from, like, Roman Europe, right.”

“Technically, they go back much further, and still exist. They’re magical. My parents were druidic. Way back, not everyone in the lineage possessed magic, and it lay dormant for generations. In other lines, it didn’t. And after centuries, the lines that have always possessed magic got… well a superiority complex. There was a war, and the people with the right blood wanted to purify the druidic world of those from the dormant lines. My mum was from one of the dormant lines.”

Annabeth stayed quiet as he paused. He hadn’t realized how hard it would be to talk about something he’d not known until a year ago. 

“The supremacists were led by this asshole who called himself Voldemort. From what my mother has told me, he sounds a lot like Kronos. He got it into his head that there was someone out there who would ultimately stop him, and he decided to deal with it.”

“What happened?” Annabeth asked softly. 

“He came to my house and killed my parents. When both my parents died protecting me, it triggered some ancient blood magic that even my mother doesn’t fully understand. So when he tried to kill me, the spell backfired.”

He felt a tear fall down his cheek. It hadn’t hit him this way when he’d heard about it, nor when he’d told Clarisse. His parents had not only been willing to fight Voldemort, but they had stood between him and their son, knowing he would kill them. 

“I was a year old. They were only twenty-one.” He blinked and wiped at his face, sniffing. “Sorry. I guess last year I… I didn’t understand wanting to protect someone so bad you’d put yourself in harm’s way.”

Annabeth put her arm around him. “And now, you’ve learned to fight, been in charge of camp security and thrown yourself between a spirit and your little sister.”

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” Harry whispered. “I don’t want anyone to know about my other magic.”

She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I won’t. But Clarisse knows, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah, she knows.”

“Good. She’d kill me if I knew before her.”

Harry turned and gave her a hug. 

“Can I get in on that?” Grover trotted up the hill. He was supposed to be Ryan’s replacement, since Harry wasn’t supposed to be on shift. 

Annabeth pulled back and rolled her eyes at the satyr. “Sure, goat-boy.”

Grover leaned over and hugged her from behind. “Oh, hey, it’s Human-Harry, I was expecting Ryan.” So, Grover had been told about the joke between the two Harrys. 

Harry laughed. “Yeah, Ryan isn’t great with the night shift, so I took over.”

“Human-Harry?” Annabeth asked. 

“There’s a Satyr-Harry and a Human-Harry. It’s a running joke between us.”

“Yeah, Harry told me Human-Harry would check on the tree multiple times a day to try to help slow the poison.” He turned to Harry. “How is she?”

Harry walked over to the tree, pressing his hands to the trunk. The power simmered beneath the bark was flowing as it should be. And it had grown more powerful since he’d checked at the beginning of their shift. 

Then it pulsed. And it pulsed again. It felt like a heartbeat. Growing stronger and stronger.

“What the—”

The next pulse of magic threw him backward. It wasn’t painful, but he hadn’t expected it. He landed on his back, breath knocked out of him for a moment. 

“Harry!” Annabeth cried. She raced toward him and stopped in her tracks. “What the fuck? Grover!” 

The satyr seemed to know what she was about to say, because he took off down the hill as fast as his hooves could carry him.

Harry pushed himself up, looking at Annabeth, who wasn’t looking at him. He turned his head, following her gaze to the tree. Where he’d just been standing lay a girl.

He crawled over to her as Annabeth rushed to her other side. He cast his magic over her to check her for wounds. She seemed fine, if unconscious. All the while, Annabeth kept repeating, “I can’t believe it.”

“Where did she come from?” Harry asked. “Who is she?”

Annabeth met his gaze, eyes wide, like she was expecting to wake up from a dream. “It’s Thalia.”

Harry blinked at her, his brain trying to process what she said. “The tree?” He pointed at the tree in question.

Annabeth nodded.

So, the Fleece had healed the tree so well it had healed the near-dead girl right out of it. This was either really good or really, really bad.

Chapter Text

Harry

It was a week and a half until his birthday. A month had passed since Clarisse had returned, since the Golden Fleece had begun to protect the camp, since Thalia Grace had returned to the land of the living. A month of returning to the norm. 

Harry was far more relaxed, training like he used to with the rest of his cabin. He was back to sleeping normally, without nightly patrols. He was eating regularly, again… mostly. 

After the weeks of patrols and skewed schedules, he’d fallen back into old eating habits. He only ate a little, pushing the rest of it around his plate. Clarisse would sit beside him at every meal and remind him he needed food to train properly.   

Harry stopped by the fire and pushed his scrambled eggs into the flames. Sometimes he had trouble with certain foods; they just brought back unpleasant memories from the Dursleys. Unlike most of the gods, his mother didn’t care how special the food was from him. She told him, if ever he needed help with associating a food with something better, to give it to her, because he was important to her. 

Today was one of those days. The mere sight of the scrambled eggs made him feel small and terrified, like he was about to be shoved back into the cupboard under the stairs. He sat down again, and Clarisse knocked her shoulder against his. She always seemed to know when he was feeling down. She wasn’t good with words, but he normally didn’t need them, just the understanding that she would stand beside him. If he needed calming words, he would go to Silena, or Thalia in recent weeks. 

She seemed to appreciate that he wouldn’t faun over her or treat her like she was delicate or otherworldly. He glanced over to the Zeus table, where she sat alone. He hated how they were forced to sit at their tables, and yet the minor gods didn’t have cabins or tables, how despite his mother not having a table, there had been such an uproar when he’d been claimed and when Clarisse had chosen him.

He’s taken to training with the daughter of Zeus regularly, because everyone else seemed afraid to touch her. They treated her like one wrong move and she would sprout leaves again. He stood up and walked over to her table, stopping beside it. Everyone knew how volatile the king of the gods was, so he didn’t tempt fate by sitting.

“Rough day?” Thalia asked. 

Harry nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the edge the table. “Don’t have the greatest memories of scrambled eggs.”

“I saw you up earlier than normal today. Bad dreams?”

He nodded again, then cast her a glance. “What were you doing up that early?”

“Dreams of being a tree again.” She drank some of her juice. “I woke up and couldn’t quite believe I wasn’t a tree. I couldn’t bring myself to go back to sleep.”

“That sucks.”

She shrugged. “Demigods.”

He repeated her words with a humorless laugh. Because it was true. They were demigods. They were doomed to nightmares. 

“Were yours Kronos or… something else?”

Harry really wanted to sit down. “Bit of both. Started with something else: what I can remember of the night my parents died. Then it twisted into Kronos promising vengeance, telling me he can help me destroy the man who killed them.”

Thalia stared at him for a long moment. “Were you tempted?”

Harry smirked at her. “If I ever find him, I don’t need a crazy Titan’s help to kill him.”

She looked at him with a strange expression on her face, one he had trouble reading. Her gaze drifted over to the Hermes table, where the other Hecate kids sat. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Harry snorted. “Never stopped you before.”

“Why stay in the Ares cabin after you were claimed? You have a family with the Hecate kids.”

He followed her gaze, catching a couple of his siblings scowling at him. “They weren’t all that welcoming. And I don’t have the best past with my actual family. My aunt and uncle weren’t great. Clarisse chose me. I wasn’t anything more than a scared kid, and she took me in. Blood doesn’t mean anything to me. My family are the people who I’ve chosen, who have chosen me. My mother, and apparently Ares, have accepted that.”

She looked him over again. “And if there are consequences of some kind?”

“Clarisse was willing to take those on before I was claimed. Now, I’m willing to take them should my continued choice to be an Ares kid becomes a problem.”

A screech tore through the murmur of breakfast, as an owl swooped in, tearing their attention from each other. Maybe someone was about to be claimed by Athena. He stood up straight, waiting for the sign, only to have the magnificent barn owl land on the table beside him, dropping a letter into his hand. 

Mr. H. Potter
Upper Bunk - Cabin Five
Delphi Strawberry Service
3.141 Farm Road
Montauk, NY 11954
USA

It was addressed in emerald ink on thick, heavy, slightly yellow parchment. He turned it over, finding a wax seal holding it closed with some kind of crest pressed into the wax. He could make out a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake around a large letter H.

Before he could open it, Chiron appeared over him. “Harry, if you and Clarisse would come with me.”

Harry returned to the Ares table and gathered up his letter and weapons, leaving the rest of his breakfast. He suspected what the letter was, and his appetite abandoned him. Clarisse piled more food on her plate and did the same. They walked up to the Big House and into Chiron’s office. 

“So is this it?” Clarisse asked. “That school you’ll be going to?”

Harry stared at the envelope. “I haven’t decided to go, yet.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Of course you have.”

He tore open the envelope and pulled out more of the same heavy, yellowing pages. “Dear Mr. Potter,” he read aloud. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He let the hand holding the letter fall to his lap. It was one thing to know he would be accepted into a school for magic, when it was just an idea, a possibility that might happen. But now that it had come, it was real, and a choice needed to be made. 

On one hand, he wanted to go, to learn about magic, to see the world his parents had grown up in. On the other, it meant leaving his friends and those who had become his family for the better part of a year, actually, at this point, it was just over a year.

Chiron nodded. “I’ll leave you to consider your options.” And he departed the office. 

Clarisse stared at him. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

She gave him a fond smile. “I can take care of myself, kid.”

“What about… you know… Kronos and his army and all that? You guys need me. Our cabin sticks together.”

“You’re only an Ares kid by adoption. You are first and foremost a Hecate kid, and you should learn all the magic you have at your disposal.”

“But—”

“Think about it this way. You’re going to learn something that will give you an edge in the coming war. Luke and his side won’t know you have this other magic, and even if they somehow found out, they wouldn’t know the first thing about fighting it. What’s the first thing I taught you?”

Harry sighed. “Find the advantage and exploit it.”

She sat back in her chair. “So, what are you going to do?”

He smiled at her. Leaving her was going to suck. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the low lighting of the pub where he found himself with Clarisse. It had been four days since he got his letter, and they’d set off (with the assistance of some magic) to London. They’d arrived a few hours ago and had needed to track down the druidic underground at the Leaky Cauldron. Chiron hadn’t known exactly where it was, just the general area, so they’d had to wander the streets until Harry spotted the sign.

Clarisse moved over to the bar, while Harry kept a bit of the Mist around him. People would notice he was there but not that he was him. With Chiron and Mother's warnings that he was rather famous in the Wizarding World, the longer he could remain just another shopper the better. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remain anonymous forever.

A cloaked man, appearing not unlike Kronos generally did in his dreams, turned his way, and Harry dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword, or at least where it should be. He felt naked without his swords, but Clarisse had one of his on her back (hidden by the Mist), so if anything happened he had a way to fight back. 

The man behind the bar handed over a key and pointed Clarisse toward a set of stairs. Harry followed her up to the fourth floor, and they entered their room. It was simple and passably clean. There were two beds, a dresser, and a small sitting area by the window. 

Harry tossed his bag onto the bed closer to the window as he passed to look out at the street below. He saw people milling about, wandering between shops, dressed like the people in the pub below. So he was seeing the hidden Wizarding street called Diagon Alley where he’d find everything he needed for school.

“This place is weird,” Clarisse said, looking out the window beside him.

Harry rolled his eyes. “So is Camp.”

“Ready to explore?”

Harry grinned and raced toward the door. They found the back room of the pub that opened into Diagon Alley. Harry stood in awe for a moment, then pushed forward, taking everything in. Chiron gave them a list of shops for what he needed to purchase. But their first stop had to be the bank, Gringotts. 

The bank wasn’t hard to miss, by far the biggest building at the other end of the Alley. He couldn’t stop his wandering gaze and slowed steps. Sure, he had gotten a look at it from their room, but there was so much more to see up close. There was a sweet shop, and a bookstore, and a place that sold brooms with a gaggle of kids pressed against the front window looking at whatever broom had the NEW sign hanging above it. There was a shop with owls and another with robes, another with barrels of things like beetle eyes and dragonfly wings. 

Clarisse dragged him on. “We’ll have time to look around after we hit the bank, kid. You can’t buy anything without money.”

Once inside Gringotts, they stopped to take everything in. The bank itself was a white-gray marble with silver doors leading away behind the tall elaborately carved desks. There were a hundred or more goblins milling about. 

Goblins were just like he’d imagined, except they weren’t green. They were shorter than he was with pointed features and long pointed ears. Some of them had beards, others didn’t. They had a range of hair styles but all meticulously kept. They all wore the same basic uniform of scarlet and gold with little variations that Harry assumed denoted rank or position. 

Some of them scribbled in thick ledgers, moving around as they need to. Some spoke to wizards at the desk. Some examined piles of gems, while others weighed and sorted coins.  

Harry took the lead, because Chiron had said manners were important and Clarisse was… not the most polite. She was like her father, blunt and crass. “Excuse me, sir,” he said to the first goblin inside the doorway. “We have an appointment with a… Griphook.” He wasn’t sure if that was a name or a title. 

The goblin led them through one of the doors, into a side chamber, where another goblin sat. Harry thanked him as he left, then turned to the one he assumed was called Griphook. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know properly address goblins.”

Griphook gave a low hum. “Most wizards do not care to know such things. I suppose the closest title in your tongue is Lord Griphook.”

“Thank you, Lord Griphook, for seeing us on such short notice. My name is—“

“Harry Potter. Goblins can see beyond the glamours.” Lord Griphook cast a glance at Clarisse. “As long as your blades stay where they are, we will have no issue with them.” He turned his attention back to Harry. “We will, of course, need to do a test to ensure you are who you say.”

“Test?” Harry asked. Neither Chiron nor his mother had warned him about any test. What sort of knowledge what he expected to know?”

He pulled out a page of violet-colored parchment, setting it on the desk between them. He held out his hand toward Harry, taking Harry’s own when he extended it. The goblin gave him a toothy grin that seemed more vicious that reassuring. “Blood cannot lie.” In a flash, Griphook had drawn a knife and slashed it across Harry’s palm, pressing it to the paper. 

Clarisse reached for her sword, but stopped when the goblin held his hand up, fingers open to show he meant no further harm. He lifted Harry’s hand from the page, turning it palm up. The wound stitched together, leaving a feint silvery scar behind. 

“I thought so,” Griphook muttered, letting his hand go.

He looked at the paper where Harry’s blood was smeared, and Harry did the same. The print began to shift and move, swirling around, forming letters. Griphook muttered something glancing between the paper and Harry and Clarisse, looking not quite smug, but certainly like he’d been vindicated. He stepped down and left the room, only to return a few moments later with another, older-looking goblin. 

“This is Chieftain Hornhook.” Griphook shifted the page so everyone could read it. It was covered in an elegant script that should have been near impossible to read for his demigod mind. But he could understand it perfectly. 

Harry James Potter 
Father - James Potter (deceased)
Mother - Lily Evans Potter (deceased)
Mother - Hecate (claimed)
Father - Ares (adopted)
Sister  - Clarisse La Rue (adopted)

There were more names of the other Ares kids, but he couldn’t get over the fact that Clarisse claiming him had actually managed to make her his sister, or that Ares had also accepted that adoption. Mother had mentioned there had been a conversation between her and Ares when he’d remained in Cabin Five, and Ares had allowed him to stay. But this was saying it had been much more than just tolerance. He was an Ares kid.

Harry looked at Clarisse. “You’re alright with that, right?”

She snorted and pulled him into an embrace. “You’re joking, right? Beckendorf is going to be so pissed he isn’t on that list.”

Chieftain Hornhook stepped forward and bowed at the waist. “It has been a long time since a Greek godling has been in the druidic lineage. It hasn’t been since Olympus moved west. Griphook will take you to your vault, and, as I understand, your key has been lost, so a new key shall be created. You will also have access to your mother’s vault.”

Soon after, he and Clarisse were bustled into a cart and sent rocketing into the depths with Griphook on the back. Harry couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. Clarisse threw him a grin as the cart spun and jostled them about. He’d heard about roller coasters from some of the other campers (and was secretly jealous he’d never been on one), and he imagined this was a lot like those.

When they finally slowed in front of vault 687. Griphook stepped up to the door and made a warding sort of gesture, then turned to Harry. “Please take the key from the lock.”

Harry did so and felt it pull at his magic, slightly. Griphook took it from him and opened the door. Behind it were piles of coins. “This vault contains your trust fund, put in place in the event your parents passed before your seventeenth birthday. When you reach the age of majority, you will gain access to the remainder of the Potter vault, including heirlooms and other items of value. I, as the goblin assigned the Potter account, will ensure everything is taken care of.” 

He pulled out a small bag. “May I make the suggested withdrawal for your start of term shopping, sir?”

Harry nodded, and Griphook scooped gold, silver, and bronze coins into the pouch, explaining the rates at Clarisse’s question. One galleon was seventeen sickles. One sickle equaled twenty-nine knuts. Seemed like a strange way to do coins. One galleon was about five pounds, and around $6.50. 

Harry looked around the piles of gold in the vault. It was a trust fund, so probably a small portion of the greater family wealth. He was… very well off. 

“I have added an extra fifty galleons for any other purchases you may wish to make over the year.” He handed Harry the bag, and it weighed near nothing. “Is there any additional person you wish to have access to your vault in the event you require funds and are unable to make the withdrawal yourself?”

“Clarisse.” He gave her a smile. “She’s my sister after all.”

Clarisse blushed and shoved his shoulder in her affectionate way. As they stepped out, Griphook had Clarisse do the same thing that Harry did, getting her own key. A short time later, they were deep in the depths of the bank, stopping at vault 3713. Harry pressed his hand to the lock. His palm burned, and he felt the scar slit back open. Violet magic snaked out of the door and up his arm. When he pulled his hand back, the wound on his hand was, once again, scarred over. And the door to the vault opened. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Inside vault 3713 was dark, dimly lit with glowing purple orbs. As he stepped inside, they grew brighter. There was a bookcase stuffed with books, another with scrolls and stacked parchment. One wall held weapons of all kinds mounted on display. There were chests scattered about, large enough for someone the climb into. Darkness swirled around him and solidified into a woman.

He beamed. “Mother.”

“Hello darling.” Hecate leaned down and pressed a kiss to his brow. She looked over at the other mortal in the room. “Clarisse.”

Clarisse gave a clumsy bow. “Lady Hecate.”

“Welcome to my vault.” She flourished her arm. “Here, there are books from across time. Before the seat of our power moved to America, we interacted far more with the druidic witches. I once had far more children in the wizarding world. And this is where my knowledge was kept. My other druidic children also left knowledge in here as well.” 

A polecat, looking a lot like a ferret but was more the size of some of the otters they had around the Camp lake, slunk out of the shadows. It had pale fur over most of its body with muddy-colored feet and a slash of near-black across its eyes. There were speckles in golds and browns across the back. It climbed Hecate’s dress and into her arms.

Hecate smiled and scratched the polecat under the chin. “This is Iphigenia. If you have need of anything in this vault, she can come and go as needed. She has chosen to become your familiar. You should have no issue with bringing her to Hogwarts as familiars are not your pet. If you want to get specific as to the bond, you’re her pet.”

The polecat leapt from the goddess’s arms and landed on Harry’s chest. On instinct, he lifted his arms to catch her, and she draped herself over his shoulders. Hecate reached out and stroked the creature affectionately on the head. 

“She has been with me for a long time, since she was needlessly sacrificed at the whim of men.”

Harry made a soft, strangled sound at the sudden realization. “This is… the Iphigenia?”

The polecat gave a trill, nuzzling at his jaw. 

“After a time,” his mother said, “you will be able to speak with her. It’s a bond you must build yourself, not one I can grant you.”

She swept over to a seating area, and the fireplace sprang to life. “Come, sit, Clarisse. As my son’s sister, you should know what he will be dealing with whist you are parted. He will need special training before he departs for school come September.”

Once Clarisse was seated, she continued. “Some of this you may already know, but I wish to ensure you are fully informed. Many years ago, a man named Tom Riddle rose to power and fashioned himself a moniker: Lord Voldemort. He wished to place the druidic wizards over all other beings on the planet. He is hardly powerful enough to cause pause on Olympus, so the gods did nothing.”

Clarisse gave a derisive snort. “What else is new?”

“A prophecy was made by a druidic seer about his downfall, and word reached him. And, as prophecy goes, he made a choice as to what it meant and set it in motion. He chose you as the one spoken of to bring about his downfall. To prevent that, he hunted you down. Your parents died protecting you, and when he turned his attention to you, his spell rebounded, and he vanished.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, we know all that.”

Hecate sighed. “Now to the part you may not know. Many think him dead, but I searched the Underworld, even venturing into the other afterlives to seek him out. He hadn’t passed into the next world. He still lives, hidden from my sight.”

“Isn’t that just perfect.” Clarisse spit out the word perfect like it was the foulest insult known to man. 

The goddess gave her a soft smile. “I may be the goddess of witches, dear, but druidic magic is its own beast. As soon as he shows himself again, I will do what I can to track him.” She turned her gaze back to Harry. “But, because you were what killed him, as far as the world knows, you have become quite famous. You will be loved and hated, so you must be protected.”

She stood and lifted a blade from the wall. “These weapons will work on regular mortals as well as those from our world.”

“That’s not allowed,” Clarisse said, but stood up with interest. 

“As long as you only defend yourself, no one will fault you. And I foresee enemies aplenty for you, my son.” She hooked the sword to her belt and the scabbard vanished, leaving only the hilt visible. But when she drew it, the full blade appeared. 

“Cool,” Harry and Clarisse said together. 

“Goblin steel and celestial bronze, a formidable pairing. Take what you both wish.”

“Really?” Clarisse asked. 

Hecate’s smile fell, expression morphing into one of concerned contemplation. “There is much to come in both your worlds. My… uncle is growing ever stronger.”

Clarisse stiffened. “Your uncle?”

“There are very few gods who are not related to the Titan Lord, dear. I’m a third generation Titan. I remained loyal to my cousins during the First Titan War.” She put a hand on each of the shoulders. “You must be ready. I know better than most his former treachery. I owe loyalty to no one. You must be careful and choose your friends wisely.”

Clarisse wandered over to the wall of weapons, looking them over. Hecate withdrew a stick from her cloak, a wand. “I give you this wand as my son, Harry.” It was beautiful, dark wood with a small shimmering stone within the handle. “Black Willow from my long-destroyed sacred grove, embedded moonstone to gather and strengthen your power, with a core of hair from the mane of the Nymian lion. It is blessed, like some other weapons, should you ever lose it, it will reappear in your possession.”

Harry reached out for it, and the moment his fingers brushed the wood a shock, not unlike the one given by Clarisse’s spear, ran up his arm. Only, this shock held no pain, but a fission of power. “Wow.”

“Now, both of you, pick out your weapons.”

“Why are you giving me a weapon?” Clarisse asked. 

Hecate brightened. “I spoke to your father. You are not the only one who claimed a sibling. Just as Ares accepted your adoption of Harry, I accepted his adoption of you.” She lifted Clarisse’s camp necklace, and a charm just like Harry’s appeared on it. “You, too, may call on me in times of trouble.”

She blinked owlishly at the goddess. “Oh.” 

Harry stifled a chuckle. It wasn’t often Clarisse was struck speechless. Hecate made her farewells, and vanishing into the darkness. 

Clarisse met Harry’s eye. “So, that just happened.”

He beamed and wrapped her in a tight embrace. “Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too, kid. Now, let’s pick out some weapons.”

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry and Clarisse left the vault with their chosen weapons. It had taken some prompting on Harry’s part to get Clarisse to take anything. She argued that Kronos’s soldiers used weapons like those in the vault; if they used the same, how were they so different? They’d come to an agreement neither of them would use their new weapons outside the Wizarding World. If it ever came to a fight against wizards, they would use them, but not for anything in the world of the Gods. 

Harry had two swords and three knives, and Clarisse had a knife, sword, and spear. They thanked Griphook after his directions to do their shopping as they left the bank. 

“So, where to first?” Clarisse asked. 

Harry scratched Iphigenia under the chin. “Maybe books first? Then trunk and caldron. Then we can stop back in the Leaky Caldron for lunch and drop off the heavy things. We don’t have to get all the shopping done today, right? Chiron gave us two days here.”

They found the shop Griphook had suggested, Flourish and Blotts. This was one part he wasn’t looking forward to. Like all demigods, he was dyslexic and had ADHD. Sitting through lessons would be difficult. Then he had a thought. He walked up to the counter.

“Excuse me,” he said to the woman behind the till. “Do you sell the Hogwarts required reading in other languages?”

“What language were you wanting?”

“Ancient Greek?”

“For an extra galleon per book, I can do that.”

Harry smiled. “Excellent. What about other books?”

“Same thing. Just bring me your books, and I can have them translated by morning.”

He and Clarisse gathered the required texts, then wandered the shelves looking for other interesting titles. He found a large tome on the history of the wizarding world called The Not-Quite Comprehensive Books of Wizarding Britain and Beyond, adding it to his stack. Clarisse brought over a book on dueling (About Face: Dueling Practices and Techniques) and another on dueling spells (Auror Unlocked: Spells to Know for Combat Dueling). Just before he returned to the counter, he saw a section on runes. There were symbols on some of the spines that weren’t Greek but he understood them. 

“Hecate isn’t just a Greek goddess,” Clarisse said when he mentioned it. “She branches out to maybe a dozen ancient societies.”

He reached out to start pulling books down, but Clarisse put a hand on his wrist. “Only one. You need to focus on your schoolwork and training. If you find yourself wanting more, let me know, and I can send them to you.”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled and selected a book called A Beginners Guide to Ancient Runes: Know What to Study.

He placed his books on the counter, complete with duplicates of both Clarisse’s selections, as well as Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. “Did you need two copies if I wanted to purchase more than one translation?”

“Yes, indeed. Total for the books is twenty-nine galleons, then sixteen books to translate. Your total will be forty-five galleons. Are you staying at the Leaky? For an extra galleon, we can deliver your purchase there.”

Harry pulled out fifty galleons, because Clarisse appeared out of nowhere with another book (Practical Offense and Defense for the Perspective Auror). She was really taking his mother seriously on helping him prepare for whatever was coming for them, and he loved her for it.

They left the store, and Harry pulled out his supply list, crossing off his books. Their stop for his cauldron didn’t take long since the shop only contained caldrons, then they were off to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment for other things. 

He picked out a nice telescope, lunar and star charts, a set of brass scales, and two sets of glass phials (because with his ADHD he was prone to breaking things). He found a trunk he liked, simple with seven locks to keep things separate. He planned to use one for clothes, one for school supplies and one for demigod things (the others would come, he was sure). He also picked up a school bag and a potion kit bag to hold his scales and phials and anything else he might pick up over his time in school. His school bag had a hidden pocket that would appear empty to anyone except the person who put the item into the pocket. He also found a wand holster for his forearm. 

While Clarisse was looking around, Harry found a small pouch one might put on a belt with a charm that would allow it to hold five items, no matter the size or weight. Her birthday was only a few days after his, so it would make a perfect gift so she could keep her new weapons with her in case she ever had need of them. He’d have to give it to her privately, since they were keep his magic secret from nearly everyone. Maybe he would give it to her before they returned to camp.

“Ninety-five galleons, sir,” the shopkeeper said. 

Clarisse helped him put everything inside the trunk, while the shopkeeper handed him the instructions on how to set up the locks to his wandprint instead of a key.

They dropped off the trunk in their room and sat down for lunch. They ordered food and drink based off Tom, the owner’s, suggestions, which included butterbeer, soup, and sandwiches. 

After trying the butter beer, Clarisse smirked. “You think we could ask for this at camp?”

“Dunno,” Harry said. “Tom said there was a bit of alcohol in it, so probably not.”

A woman dressed like a typical witch, from what he could tell, sat down at the end of their table. She wore a flattering shade of emerald robes with a pointed hat and glasses perched on her nose. “Good afternoon. I’m Minerva McGonagall.”

“Can we help you?” Clarisse asked. 

Harry continued to look the woman over. “She’s the deputy head of Hogwarts.” She was lithe and graceful in her movements. She might give the appearance of a gentle, older woman, but he knew what someone who had seen combat looked like (even if her combat was likely different than he and the others he knew had been through). 

Clarisse met his gaze, giving him a raised brow he knew well. He watched her shift, leaning back so she could pulled her new knife, if she needed to. Harry tore a piece of meat from his sandwich and lifted it to Iphigenia. 

“Mr. Potter, Tom mentioned seeing you pass through to Diagon when I arrived with a Muggleborn and her family. We were about to reach out personally, since we haven’t received a reply regarding your attendance.”

“I wasn’t certain how to do that,” Harry told her.

“Owl post.”

“The owl that dropped off my letter didn’t stick around for a reply to be sent.”

“Surely your aunt told you—“

Harry scowled. “My aunt and uncle are monsters who have no right to call me family. They sent me away to a boarding school a year ago and have had no contact since. The people I met took me in and treat me better than my aunt and uncle ever did. They are my family, now. So, since you’re here, yes, I intend to attend come September.”

McGonagall’s lips pressed into a thin line as she looked the two of them over. “And who is this?”

“My sister.”

Clarisse blushed, the hand not resting on her dagger lifting to the new charm on her necklace. 

McGonagall’s sour look softened. “Good. I never liked the idea of leaving you with those people, blood-wards be damned.”

Harry snorted. “I’m still protected by blood wards. I have cousins on my mother’s side.”

Clarisse grinned. Because she knew his mum and his mother were two different people. He had siblings on his mother’s side at camp. “So what are you doing here?” Clarisse asked McGonagall.

“I’m here escorting a Muggleborn witch to introduce her and her parents to the Wizarding World," the witch said.

Clarisse glanced at Harry. “So glad you were give such consideration, little brother.”

“Petunia Dursley was made aware of Diagon Alley when Lily started Hogwarts. We were under the impression she would be escorting you.”

Clarisse snorted and gave the woman a distasteful glare.

A girl around his age hurried over to the woman. “Professor, we’re all settled in.” Her mane of brown curls bounced around her head as she near danced on her toes in excitement. 

“Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, “this is Harry Potter. He will be starting Hogwarts this year as well.”

The girl stuck out her arm. “Hermione Granger, pleasure to meet you.”

Harry gave a hum, looking her over. She pulled her hand back, looking slightly hurt, but covered it quickly. 

McGonagall looked him over again. “Would you care to join us, Mr. Potter? I could show you around the Alley, and you could get to know a classmate.”

After a wordless conversation with Clarisse that involved eyebrows and facial expressions, and a couple small hand gestures, he nodded. 

“Wonderful,” the Professor said. “Have you visited Gringotts already?” At his nod, she continued. “We will meet you outside the bank when you have finished.”

Iphigenia leapt into the table and stole a carrot from his soup. McGonagall raised a brow. “A ferret isn’t an approved pet for first years, Mr. Potter.”

“She’s a polecat,” Harry replied. “And she’s my familiar.”

The professor’s brows raised. “That’s remarkable. A familiar for someone so young, and that you know what a familiar is.”

He turned to Clarisse, speaking in Ancient Greek. “I feel like I’ve been insulted.”

“I imagine you will be experiencing that a lot. Jackson is held to a higher standard for being a kid of the big three. And you’re famous.” The last bit dripped with sarcasm. 

“You’re one of the people to hold him to that higher standard as much as the rest of them.”

“He’s supposed to decide the fate of the war. You brought about the downfall of some dark lord.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, Percy and I have both done remarkable things. I would appreciate it if you could at least make an attempt to get along with him. He helped you complete a quest everyone thought impossible. Can you get over your bruised ego?”

Clarisse threw him a scowl that wasn’t as serious as it seemed. “Brat.” 

He saw the affection in the smile that tugged at her lips. “Jerk.”

His sister snorted and flicked a piece a carrot at him. Iphigenia trilled and grabbed it. 

Finally getting that they were done with socializing with her, Professor McGonagall left with Hermione Granger. They finished up eating and settled their tab for both the room and the meal. Then they ventured back into Diagon Alley. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry and Clarisse only waited outside the bank for a few minutes, before the professor, Hermione, and a couple that had to be Hermione’s parents joined them. 

“Shall we get you fitted for your robes?” McGonagall asked. 

They made their way to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The shop was filled with all kinds of robes, some gaudy and ridiculous, others elegant and formal. Many were simple, one-color designs. And then there was an entire wall of black robes.

“Minerva!” called one of the fitters when they stepped inside the shop. 

“Dana, how good to see you.” They embraced. “I have a couple students who need robes.”

“You’re in luck. I just finished with the Tonks girl, fitting her for Auror training. Come along.”

Harry found himself on a platform beside Hermione as Madam Malkin and her assistant took measurements and had them try on a few styles of robes. Clarisse snickered off to the side where she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. 

“This is worse than Silena,” Harry muttered in Ancient Greek.

“That’s because Silena knows what you like and can take measurements with a single glance. When we get back I’ll tell her to take you shopping, since you’re enjoying this so much.”

Harry gave her a rude hand gesture, earning a startled sound from McGonagall and Missus-Doctor Granger. Right. Around people who aren’t demigods in the midst of a war. Better keep his language in check, too. The Ares kids were a bad influence. 

“Just the standard fare, dear?” the assistant asked him. “Three sets of robes and uniforms, cloak, hat and gloves.”

“I saw you sold self-repairing robes,” Harry said. “Can I get those? And an extra pack of name tags.”

“It’s an additional feature we offer for two galleons per robe. Your total will be thirty-three galleons, three sickles. We can deliver them to the Leaky if you’re staying there for an extra five sickles.”

He handed over thirty-four galleons and refused the change. Hermione finished up at the same time. He liked her well enough. She was so naive and sheltered compared to the kids he was used to. 

McGonagall ushered them across the way to Ollivander’s Wands, ignoring Harry’s protests. The wand maker appeared, looking them over. “I wondered when I’d be seeing you, Mr. Potter. It seems only yesterday your mother and father were in here buying their first wands.” He pulled out a box, removing a wand from it. “Let’s try this.” He sent the box aside without much of a glance at it. “Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches, nice and flexible.”

Harry stared at the wand for a long moment. “I have a wand.”

“From whom?” Ollivander asked. 

“Found it in the family vault.”

“Ah.” He put his offered wand aside and extended his hand. “May I?”

Harry crossed his arms. He wasn’t about to hand over his weapon, something the Ares kids had hammered into him. Don’t give your weapon to someone you don’t know and trust. “No.” Then, as he considered it, it was probably best he didn’t, given the wand maker had identified the wand he’d offered with only a touch. Black willow was no longer found in Europe, not since the gods moved west. And Nymian lion hair… yeah, definitely good he hadn’t handed it over. He turned toward the door, Clarisse opening it for him. “I want to try some magical sweets.”

They located the sweet shop and found a box of treats designed for newcomers to the wizarding world, sampling the best of everything. They sat on a bench outside the bookshop that ended up being the next stop, trying everything: ice mice, pumpkin pasties, liquorice wands, sugar quills, fizzing whizzbees, cauldron cakes, Bertie Bott’s every flavor beans, and chocolate frogs. 

Harry pulled out a bean from the box of Bertie Bott’s and handed it to Clarisse. She took it without hesitation and grimaced. “I think that’s seaweed.”

“You’d know,” Harry snorted, taking the bean she picked for him. “Marshmallow.”

They both reached into the box and picked one. Harry gagged, spitting his out, and Clarisse did the same. 

“Puke,” Clarisse muttered, grabbing a pumpkin pasty to wash away the flavor. 

“Shit,” Harry said. “My mouth is on fire, whatever the fuck that was.”

A cleared throat alerted them to an audience. Professor McGonagall stood over them, a look a displeasure across her pressed lips. “Your parents would be horrified by your language, Mr. Potter.”

“My mum and dad are dead, so I give fuck-all about what they’d think. I imagine they would have other priorities than my language.”

The Grangers stepped out of the book shop and joined them. Hermione had a book in hand, fingers twitching over the pages like an Ares kid with a new weapon, like she wanted nothing more than to crack it open and absorb every word. 

“Hermione, you want to try something?” Harry pointed to his uneaten sweets. 

After her mother gave permission, she tucked her book under her arm and tried a cauldron cake. 

“We should keep moving,” Professor McGonagall said. “We have many more stops to make. 

Next stop was Creepy Scrawlers for quills, ink and parchment. There was a lengthy debate between the Granger parents and Professor McGonagall on the use of such items rather than the more modern (and more humane) pens and paper. 

Harry found vegetable parchment in the corner, pulling Hermione over to it. They both grabbed a couple packages of one-hundred sheets for ten sickles. they moved over to the ink, looking at the colors. Hermione chose black and blue, but her gaze lingered on an inkwell filled with a vibrant violet ink. Harry slipped one of those into his basket, along with a dozen scarlet wells, and one black just in case he needed it. 

They moved over to the quills, next. There were dozens of styles: short duck feathers to long peacock ones. Hermione pulled out three goose feathers for twelve knuts apiece. Harry grabbed four packages of a dozen pheasant quills for three galleons per box. 

“Why do you need so many?” Hermione asked.

“Because I misplace and break things easily. It’s not like we’ll be able to restock throughout the term.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. 

“I’m sure your parents would be able to pick things up for you. But Clarisse will be back in the United States.”

Hermione nodded. “Right.”

When it came time to pay, Harry grabbed another pack of parchment to round out his order to twenty-four galleons, but also because he’d probably need it. As they walked out, Hermione bemoaned her notebooks. 

“Why not just hole-punch some pages and put them in a binder?” Harry suggested.

Hermione beamed and began talking about her plans for organizing everything and making a list of Muggle supplies she’d need to pick up. 

Next stop was the Apothecary. It was, perhaps, a good thing they’d encountered Professor McGonagall. 

“You really need to get a better supply list,” Clarisse snapped at the teacher when she mentioned the need for a mortar and pestle, a juicing board, a mallet and a potion knife. “How would we know those things were needed.”

“It’s basic potion making, Miss Le Rue,” McGonagall sniped.

“So you’re intentionally trying to fuck over newcomers to your world. How would anyone know what ingredients they should keep in their stock? Or that quills and parchment and ink were required for people, when they’ve lived with paper and pens.”

The teacher scowled. “Now, really, Miss Le Rue.”

Hermione and Harry slipped away as the Grangers joined in on the argument. 

“Your sister is really something,” Hermione giggled. “Professor McGonagall seemed rather… unflappable.”

Harry grinned; she had no idea. The shopkeeper came over to them, casting a worried glance at the adults. 

“Hogwarts, dears?” She showed them over to the supplies. “We have a basic package for students based on the required book. For first years, ten galleons gets you supplies for brewing each potion in the book twice. We have a shop in Hogsmeade where you can pick up more supplies, or we can owl it to you within twenty-four hours.”

She went on to talk them through the potioneer supplies. Twenty galleons later, Harry had everything he needed that wasn’t on the supply list and a catalogue for any orders he might need to make while at school. He swept into the argument and pulled Clarisse out the door, grinning the whole time as she muttered insults.

The Grangers had one last stop for the listed supplies, and Harry and Clarisse stopped for some ice cream. Iphigenia stole a few bites of Harry’s, making him smile. He was certain a polecat should have some dietary restrictions, but since his familiar had once been a young woman, it probably didn’t apply to her. The Grangers re-joined them once they’d finished their shopping. 

“We’re going to take my things back to the Leaky Caldron, then we’re going to explore,” Hermione told them. “Want to join us?”

“McGonagall with you?” Clarisse asked. 

“She left.”

“And she didn’t say goodbye.” Her voice was filled with so much mock-hurt, Harry snorted. 

They dropped everything back in their room and met back up with the Grangers. Harry and Hermione buzzed in and out of every shop, looking at everything available. When they entered a shop called Magical Menagerie, Iphigenia perked up. 

“Yeah, Iphy, I guess you probably need some things.”

Hermione cooed over some of the kittens lounging around the perches. She peered at a grumpy-looking ginger cat with a squashed face locked in a cage. She opened the door, murmuring to it. 

“No!” the shopkeeper cried as he burst from the back room. 

The cat hissed at him, but settled into Hermione arms. “Be nice,” Hermione chided, scratching the cat under the chin.

The shopkeeper stared at them. “If you get that beast out of here, I’ll give him to you for five galleons.”

Hermione pushed the cat into Harry’s arms while she ran outside. The cat, that looked more like a miniature tiger than a housecat, stared him with what could only be described as tolerance. It was Iphigenia still draped around Harry’s shoulders that held the feline’s attention as they sniffed at each other. 

Hermione hurried back in with Mister-Doctor Granger trailing after her. The moment Hermione was back inside the shop, the feline rolled from Harry’s arms and bolted to Hermione, leaping into her embrace. They got all the supplies she would need to care for the cat who was called Crookshanks. 

Harry found a hanging basket with a rope that Iphigenia climbed and curled up in. He left her there while he picked out a sling so he could keep her with him all the time but she could sleep in relative peace. He added some treats to his order and paid for everything. 

“Come on, you,” he called to his familiar, as he pulled the sling across his body. 

She leapt onto his shoulder and slithered into the pouch, sticking her head out once settled with a chirp. When the time grew late, they returned to the Leaky Cauldron. 

Hermione embraced him before they went their separate ways. “We head home early tomorrow. I’ll see you on the platform.”

“Can’t wait,” Harry said.

“I’m just glad to know at least one person before we arrive.”

As Harry and Clarisse settled in to sleep that night, he tossed his gift over to her, hitting her in the side of the head.

“What was that for?” she squawked. 

“Happy early birthday.” He told her what it was, and she smiled. 

She grabbed her belt from the chair beside her bed and clipped it on, dropping her new weapons inside.

Chapter Text

Harry

Two days later, Harry had packed his belongings in his trunk, and as dawn broke, he and Clarisse hitched a ride with Apollo. He spent the day training with her with their new weapons. Quite a few younger campers sat around, watching them. They were careful not to use their blades on anything that would reveal their true nature. 

When they took a break, Clarisse went off to beat up on some of the other campers. Nyssa came over from the sidelines and sat down, looking at his sword. “May I?”

He handed it over, and she appraised it with interest. He was curious how long it would take her to notice the… otherness of it. He planned to tell her everything. She was his best friend (apart from Clarisse, but she was his sister so that was different).

She glanced around to make sure no one was around and leaned in. “This is more than celestial bronze.” That hadn’t taken her long, but he expected nothing less from her. “This would harm mortals, too.” There was judgement in her tone. 

He gave a sigh. “I’m not about to go off and join Luke, Nys, I promise.”

“You better not. If you did, I’d hunt you down and kill you myself.”

He saw a gaggle of unclaimed walking toward them. Time for their lesson. He slipped his sword into its sheath, and it vanished. Nyssa’s brows shot up. “I’ll tell you tonight at the bonfire.”

And in the shadows as the fire danced high that evening, he told her everything. He told her about the weapons, about the wizarding world, about his family, about Voldemort. 

“So you’re going to school in Scotland to learn to use this other kind of magic?” Nyssa asked. “That’s so cool. Will you visit?”

“From what I’ve been told I’ll have a couple weeks off around Christmas and Easter. I’ll definitely come back.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “There’s something else.”

He led her to the Ares cabin, pushing the door open. Before she could ask, Iphigenia popped her head up from his bunk, chirping at him. He watched Nyssa’s eyes grow wide, and she hopped up onto the ladder to get a better look. No one in the Ares cabin had batted an eye when he returned from his trip with a pet. She was a polecat after all. They probably just assumed she was an early birthday gift from his mother. 

“She’s darling,” Nyssa cooed, scratching under her chin.

Harry stepped up on the edge of Clarisse’s bed so he was beside Nyssa. “Her name is Iphigenia.”

“Interesting choice of name, a Spartan princess.”

“This is the Spartan princess,” Harry told her, echoed by a long trill from the polecat in question. “I’m a bit fuzzy on the details, but she was transformed in order to save her.”

Nyssa scrunched her nose in distaste. “I knew there was something fishy about Artemis demanding a human sacrifice, especially that of a young woman.” She leaned toward Iphy. “Men, right?” 

Iphigenia chirped and hopped in reply. 

“Hey!” Harry cried. “No ganging up on me.”

Nyssa patted his hand. “You’re still a kid. You’ve got time to prove you don’t fit the stereotype.”

Harry gaped at her for a moment. “You mean I haven’t, yet?”

“You’re still a boy, there’s plenty of time for men to corrupt you.”

He rolled his eyes. “With you, Clarisse, Silena, Thalia, and Annabeth around me? You think any of you would hesitate to beat sense into me if I started being an ass?”

Nyssa giggled. The door to the cabin opened, and Tony and Liam, two of the younger kids (seven and eight, respectively), walked in. 

“Campfire over?” Harry asked them. Upon receiving confirmation, he stepped back onto the floor. “Can I walk you to your cabin?” he asked Nyssa.

Iphigenia settled around his best friend’s shoulders before she could join him on the floor. They walked out, and when they were away from other ears, and asked him a few more questions about everything. 

Two days later, Beckendorf and Silena threw him and Clarisse a joint party for their birthdays. There was cake and ice cream. The Apollo kids played music. They held a sparring contest. They did pretty much everything he would miss most about camp. 

The next month flew by in a blur as campers started to trickle out as those with places to go outside of summer left for the school year. Harry was the last one to leave, with only the year-rounders there to say goodbye to him. 

The the days leading up to his departure, Harry packed a few weapons from the armoury. Nyssa brought him a rather excessive kit for cleaning any and every type of weapon she could think of. Chiron also brought him a bag of drachma and a few packaged of ambrosia. “This should be enough to get you through until your winter holidays.”

The night before Harry was set to head across the Atlantic, there was an impromptu sleepover in the Ares cabin. From what he could tell, it hadn’t been planned, but it got so crowded everyone grabbed their pillows and blankets, and they trekked up to the Big House to commandeer the rec room for more space. 

Their invasion was less than quiet and alerted Chiron in his quarters. He came to investigate and then left with a smile. Harry suspected the snacks they found in a supply closet may have been because of the centaur.  

Silena, Beckendorf, Nyssa, the Stolls, Thalia, and some of the Ares kids came to see him off. Clarisse would be coming with him. After farewells and constrictor-like hugs, he and Clarisse climb into the van for Argus to take them to the airport.

Harry pushed his trolley at the wall between platforms nine and ten, just like Chiron told them. They really should do better for first timers. How was anyone without a magical background supposed to get to the train? Clarisse was muttering something similar. Why hadn’t McGonagall mentioned anything when they had been in Diagon Alley? Why didn’t they have someone waiting in the main concourse? There were so many options they could take. 

On the other side of the portal, the platform was bustling. Owls screeched, and children shrieked. They loaded his trunk into an empty compartment, tossing his bag on the seat. He stepped back onto the platform, looking around for Hermione as he fidgeted with his new bead holding a tiny golden fleece affixed to his necklace beside two charms and his older bead. 

A group of red-heads, probably a family, pushed by him, the mother shouting at what appeared to be twins, but Connor and Travis Stoll were assumed to be twins despite being a year apart, so who knew. 

“Harry!”

He turned just in time to get a face-full of brown curls as Hermione threw her arms around his neck. “Hermione, it’s good to see you.”

They’d spoken on the phone a couple times over the last few weeks. Harry had been in Chiron’s office, so well protected from any sort of monsters that might be attracted to his call.

“I have a compartment for us.” He and Clarisse helped get Hermione’s trunk on board, and Hermione let Crookshanks out of his carrier. Iphigenia climbed out of her sling and curled up with the cat, returning to sleep. 

They returned to the platform to greet both Dr. Grangers. There was so much to look at, so much noice, so many new faces. Clarisse took his wrist and leaned down to his ear. “Breathe.”

He took a slow breath and smiled at her. She threw him a wink. He’d been warned it was something that happened to every demigod child after spending an extended period of time at Camp. Camp was familiar, safe, secure, with familiar faces. This was all new.

As the warning call came for everyone to board, Harry turned to Clarisse. “I guess this is it, then.” This was the longest he’d be away from Camp since he arrived, the longest he’d be away from Clarisse. She was the closest thing he had to a sister, since the other Hecate kids kind of disliked that he lived with the Ares kids. 

She slipped into Ancient Greek. “Just think of this as your first quest. You wouldn’t think twice about leaving if the Oracle gave you one. You just have a different type of adventure put before you.”

He wrapped his arms around her, smiling as she returned it. “Thanks.”

“You better get aboard. Iris message me tomorrow after you get settled in.”

He nodded and hurried onto the train. He sat down across from Hermione and waved at his sister. His heart raced, and his stomach felt like it was about to leap from his throat. This was a quest. This was a quest. But it wasn’t. He didn’t have a prophecy sending him off to school. The Oracle hadn’t seen fit to bestow a quest. 

But a druidic seer had foretold he would bring about to downfall of Voldemort. While she was no Oracle of Delphi, a prophecy was a prophecy, and from what his mother said, Voldemort wasn’t dead yet. He just wished he had the prophecy to know what he was meant to do. But then, Percy knew there was some kind of prophecy regarding him, and he simply lived his life. How many people went to the Oracle and freaked at the prophecy they were told, only to bring it about by trying to prevent it. Perhaps it was better he simply knew he had a prophecy sending him to the druidic world to fight a bad guy who was hiding in the shadows.

For now.

Chapter Text

Harry

Within minutes of departing the station, the door to their compartment slid open. The youngest red-hair boy from the platform stood in the doorway, looking them over. Harry watching him carefully, because that’s what Annabeth and the Athena kids had taught him to do: observe everything, be vigilant. 

The boy was dressed like so many kids Harry knew, in hand-me-down clothes with fraying edges and re-stitched seams. He didn’t have much with him, only what Harry assumed was going to be his school bag, but looked more like his father’s old messenger bag, slung over his shoulder, a rat in his hand. He barely gave Hermione a glance as his eyes settled on Harry, gaze flicking up to his forehead. “Do you mind? Everywhere else is full.”

Harry glanced at Hermione, who shrugged, and the boy sat down. 

“I’m Ron Weasley, by the way.”

Hermione smiled at him. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Harry.”

In one of her books, Hermione had found out about him. Sure, he’d read his sections too, but when she asked him questions about it without him telling her anything, he got flustered. (After that call, he’d had to sit down with Percy and explain everything to ask his advice. Percy, like Annabeth, had been more concerned about Clarisse knowing before they got into anything more.) 

So, Hermione leaving off his last name was likely purposeful, probably hoping people would draw the conclusion they were related, for now. Unfortunately, Harry suspected Ron already knew who he was. Where had he left his trunk if everywhere else was full?

They (well, Harry and Hermione, at least) fell into easy conversation about the coming term. Harry had browsed the books, finding his personal selections to be far more interesting than the ones that had been on his school list. Hermione had read every single book and, it seemed, near memorized them. 

“Did you end up buying the book I told you about?” Harry asked. 

Hermione pulled her copy out, flipping it open to reveal notations in the columns. “You know, Ancient Runes is an offered course at Hogwarts. In third year, we’ll be able to take on electives. If I remember correctly, there are five. Care of Magical Creatures is one. Then there’s the choice between Arithmancy or Divination and Muggle Studies or Ancient Runes. Which is terrible, because I want to take both Muggle Studies and Ancient Rune.”

Ron scoffed. “We haven’t even started first year, yet, and you’re talking about classes in third year.”

Hermione gave him a withering look. “Clearly, you don’t value your education. How well we do could change the trajectory of our lives. Me? I have more options, growing up in the Muggle world. You, on the other hand… you’re vastly limited to what appears to be a variety of bureaucratic positions, teaching, or research. And bureaucracy breeds nepotism and corruption. In my research of the political structure of the Wizarding World, it’s hardy surpassed Victorian, with something akin to an aristocracy based solely on the magical abilities of the documented past.”

Harry could only stare at her in silence. She’d really read up, and she was incredibly intelligent. Sure, he’d known she was smart already, but she seemed far older than eleven. It was too bad the two halves of his life needed to stay separate. He guessed Hermione would get along with Annabeth like Percy and water. 

“If we, with no stake in your world previously, are to have any hope of getting any sort of recognition, we need to be educated. We need to excel and stand out from our peers, to make people look at us.”

Hermione excused herself to find the loo, leaving Harry alone with Ron. 

Ron gave a derisive laugh, waving her off. “She’s too high strung. We’ve got years before we have to think about what we’re doing after we graduate.” He looked Harry over again. “You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?”

Harry stared at him for a long moment. “Why does that matter?”

“You’re famous. You can do anything and people would let you. You could ask for any job and—”

“You realized that’s exactly what Hermione was saying. That’s nepotism.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You’ve grown up in the magical world, something neither Hermione nor myself can claim. You already have a head start on us. You’ve been taught the basics simply by existing in a magical household. We have to catch up.”

“No, I don’t.”

“If we hadn’t been shopping with Professor McGonagall, neither of us would have had potion ingredients. We would have shown up with Muggle office supplies. And without the ability to make those purchases, we would have been fucked. Because for those of you who grew up around magic, it was something obvious, to purchase potion ingredients and more tools than scales and phials, to know quills and ink and parchment were expected opposed to pens and lined paper.”

Hermione returned just as he finished, looking between the two boys. “Do I want to know?” At Harry’s shaken head, she gestured down the hall. “Looks like the food cart is about to reach us.”

Then the cart rolled into view with an older woman pushing it. “Anything off the trolly, dears?”

Harry stood, looking over the offering. He grabbed a few sandwiches that appeared to be the only things not being claimed. Then he picked up some of his favorite sweets and a few of everything he hadn’t tried yet. Hermione worried her lip staring at the fare. Right, dentists.

“Why don’t you brush your teeth right after we eat, that should combat the sugar, right?”

Hermione’s nose scrunched. “That’s beside the point.”

He opened a cauldron cake and shoved it in her mouth as she began whatever lecture she was gearing up for. He dumped his purchases in the seat beside the sleeping critters. Iphy perked up, nose twitching. Harry pulled out one of the sandwiches and extracted the parts she would eat, leaving it on the paper sandwich wrapping. 

Harry opened his favorite, a chocolate frog, catching it as it jumped, and bit off its head. He tossed the box aside as he pulled out a new sweet to look at, Toothflossing Stringmints. “Hey, Hermione, these will floss you teeth while you eat them. Want to try one?”

As Hermione pulled out a mint, Ron asked, “Are you not going to look at the card?”

At Harry’s raised brow, Ron pulled a card out of the Chocolate Frog box. “Each pack has a card you collect and trade. I’ve almost got the full set. Oh, cool, you got one of the limited edition ones. Cyclops.” He turned it over and read: “The Cyclops was a one-eyed giant who lived in a cave at the foot of Mount Etna in Ancient Greece. With the help of several sheep, he was slain by the Greek hero Odysseus.”

Harry took the card with a snort. “Well, that’s bullshit. The cyclopes are a race of, yes, giants. If whoever wrote this bothered to look into mythology at all, they’d know the Elder Cyclopes forged the weapons used by the Olympians to fight the Titans. After those, there were the children of Poseidon and various sea nymphs. They would work the forges for the gods.” He held up the card. “This specific cyclops was call Polyphemus, and he wasn’t killed by Odysseus. He was blinded by the humans and tricked. Odysseus and his crew left Polyphemus alive, which brought about the events of the epic, The Odyssey.”

Both Ron and Hermione were left staring at him. Ron looked a bit like a fish, and Hermione was smiling.

“What?” Harry asked her. “I’m not an idiot, despite the ADHD and dyslexia.”

“Oh, is that why your books aren’t in English?” Hermione asked ."And what you were speaking with your sister?" 

“Yeah, I’m bilingual. I read better when it’s not English, you know?”

“I’m dyslexic, too,” Hermione said. “But my parents figured it out pretty early and taught me how to deal with it. They found fonts and colors that make everything settle, so Flourish and Blotts were able to adjust the print in the books and I picked up highlighters, like we talked about. Oh, and I decided I would take notes in my notebooks with my colored pens that I’m used to, and when I need to do homework, I’ll used parchment and quill and ink.”

Harry scowled. “Ah, hell, I wish I’d thought of that. But that also messes up my birthday present for you.” He reach into his bag and pulled out the violet inkwell he’d purchased.

She brightened. “Oh, Harry, that’s so sweet of you. I brought plenty of notebooks. I could give you a few.”

Ron reached into the sweet pile and pulled out another chocolate frog, setting his rat down in the process. Both Crookshanks and Iphigenia bristled, the fur along their backs standing on end, and they hissed. Then they lunged at the rat. After a brief commotion of the humans in the compartment trying to pull the animals apart, Harry and Hermione were on one side, sitting awkwardly so as not to sit in the pile of sweets, clutching their furry companions. Ron was on the other side, cradling the rat to his chest, both nursing wounds from claws and teeth. 

“Keep those bloody beasts away from Scabbers!” Ron cried. 

“What did you expect, putting a rat right next to two predators?” Hermione snapped. 

Scabbers squeaked incessantly, and Iphigenia twisted out of Harry’s grasp, chirping violently as well. He grabbed her again as she leapt toward the rat. “Iphigenia! Enough!” She stilled in his arms, staring at the rodent. As one who knew she had once been human, Harry could see the scowl of disdain. He really needed to learn how to communicate with her. Percy hadn’t been any help, because his skill just manifested one day. 

The door to the compartment opened again, and a frazzled boy stood in the opening. “I’m Neville. I’m looking for my toad. Have you seen him anywhere?”

Chapter Text

Harry

The boy looked absolutely beside himself with worry over his lost pet. Harry couldn’t exactly relate, since a pet was relatively new to him and his was actually a familiar. But already he felt a little less sure of himself when Iphy wasn’t with him. 

Harry shook his head, still clutching Iphy as she shifted to look over his shoulder at the rat in Ron’s hand. “Do you want help looking?”

Neville brightened. “Would you?”

Harry shifted Iphigenia, and she stopped her attempt to glare the rat to death. She sniffed Neville’s hand and then dropped to the floor. She scurried down the corridor, and Harry followed, with Neville behind him. 

His familiar stopped in front of a compartment two cars down and chirped. Harry opened the door to find a group of snooty looking kids about his age. 

“What do you want?” a girl with an upturned nose said with an air of superiority, smug, like she thought she was the most important person in the room. 

“Looking for a lost pet,” Harry said, as Iphy loped under the bench. She reappeared, with a toad leg in her mouth, dragging the amphibian beneath her as he tried to get away. 

“Trevor!” Neville cried, grabbing the toad and walked away, calling out his gratitude.

Iphy gave a proud little wiggle of her body, preening. Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you did good.” She scampered over to him and climbed up his leg to the sling he still wore, settling inside.

One of the boys in the compartment stood. “First year?” He was smug, too, with pale blond hair that he had slicked back. He was already dressed in his school robes, straightening them. “I respect anyone who would break the rules on something so trivial as brooms and pets.”

“Excuse me?” Harry said, bristling. 

“First years aren’t allowed pet ferrets.”

“Well, I guess it’s good I didn’t bring one. Iphy’s my familiar.” He turned away.

“You never introduced yourself,” the boy called after him. “What’s your surname?”

Harry didn’t bother answering. He knew what kind of person that boy was, the kind he hadn’t dealt with in over a year. Bullies. Sure Camp had some but they weren’t pretentious. Camp bullies would back off when they realized you could hold your own. The bullies he’d had back when he’d been with the Dursley’s though, those had bullied him because it was expected. He was the freak cousin of Big D. Everyone picked on him, because he was a lower class citizen. Great, he was back to that. A place where kicking someone’s ass on the sparring field wouldn’t fix anything (mostly because there wouldn’t be a sparring field, and fighting to fix your problems was probably frowned upon as it was pretty much everywhere but Camp). 

What was he getting himself into?

When Harry returned to the compartment, Ron was talking with excessive animation about something called Quidditch. Hermione had her nose in a book, in a way that seemed most natural for her, vaguely humming when she felt Ron needed some encouragement to dominate the conversation. Harry sat down and listened, eating more of their food. 

Harry had taken to staring out the window at the landscape flying by. He saw a few magical creatures: winged horses, centaurs, some nature spirits, and glimpses of things he couldn’t place off hand. And he didn’t want to ask, even if he was on a magical train among wizards, because he wasn’t sure whether he was seeing magical creatures or creatures that should be hidden by the Mist. 

After a while, another of the red-haired boys, this one perhaps the oldest, stopped by the compartment. Obviously, they were brothers. They had the same freckles across their nose and the same shade of red in their hair. The newcomer was already changed into his school robes, with a red and gold tie around his neck. He had a badge on his chest with a P on it. 

“Ron, you should be changed,” the older boy said. “We’re nearly there.”

“They haven’t announced anything, yet, Percy,” Ron grumbled. 

“Well, consider this your announcement. Get changed.”

They bickered a bit longer, then Percy rushed off to continue on with “his duties”, which were whatever a prefect did while on the train. 

Sure enough, an announcement came through that they were a hour from Hogsmeade station and that they should prepare for arrival. Hermione stepped out first, letting the pair of boys change in relative privacy. 

Harry caught Ron staring at him when he pulled off his shirt. He wasn’t sure if it was the scars on his chest or the fact that he had a fair amount more muscle than the average eleven-year-old. When Ron’s back was turned, Harry attached his sword and knife to his belt. He should write to Nyssa and ask for something to keep on his wrist, like his wand holster, to hide his sword. When he pulled on his robes, Ron looked a little pale.

Once they finished, they stood outside while Hermione changed. And Ron was still staring at him.

“What?” Harry snapped. 

“N—Nothing,” Ron stammered, looking away. 

Harry rolled his eyes. He guessed he should get used to the stares. He was famous in this world. Gods, he missed Camp. 

Hermione opened the door, letting the pair of boys back into the compartment. Harry loaded the rest of his sweets into his bag to sort out later. Then he put his bag in his trunk. 

Then he sat down. They still had about a half hour before they would arrive. And he was excited. Sure, he was already homesick for Camp, but the more he’d talked about Hogwarts with Hermione (and Ron when he deigned to join the conversation) the more excited he’d become. 

Finally, they pulled to a stop, at Hogsmeade Station if the sign outside was correct. They left their belongings on the train, as the announcement instructed, and fell into the flow of students stepping out to the platform.

“Firs’ years, this way!” came a booming voice. The man was massive, towering over the heads of everyone on the platform. Harry made his way over to him, joining the cluster of other first years waiting on instructions. 

The man led them down a steep, slippery slope through the trees. When the foliage thinned, Harry caught sight of a massive, glimmering castle. The windows twinkled with light. It was lucky it was Saturday. He had a whole day tomorrow to explore before classes began Monday. He’d also need to find a way to explore the lake. Percy (Jackson, because there being a Percy Weasley, too was going to insanely annoying) would be furious if he didn’t. Maybe he could find a way to sneak the son of Poseidon onto the grounds. 

Then he saw it, the shimmering dome that encompassed the castle and far beyond. Warding sigils ghosted across the surface. Damn. No sneaking anyone inside.

Hermione took his arm and pulled him toward the boats awaiting them on the shore. Ron and Neville joined them in their boat. Was this a test? Were they expected to row across without oars? Or somehow use magic? Clarisse would have something to say about expecting newcomers to somehow know how to—

“FORWARD!” the massive man called, and the boats began to move. 

So, yes, magic, but at least the powers that be weren’t expecting kids to know how to do it. The bar was pretty low on his expectations. 

But that was quickly forgotten as they sailed toward the castle. It looked big from a distance, but as they drew nearer, it seemed to loom. He’d never seen a place like it. Magic danced across the walls and vanished into the stone. They ducked as they entered an underground harbour, where they climbed out onto a rocky shore. Then the big man pounded great, booming knocks on the door. 

When it opened, Professor McGonagall stood in the torchlight, looking as stern as she had in Diagon Alley. She thanked the big man, Hagrid, and led the students inside. 

As soon as Harry’s foot touched the proper floor, a fission of magic shot up his leg, and he stumbled. It was like Thalia’s tree. The castle was alive, at least in the way magic was alive. He felt the ebb and flow that pulsed around him. They’d called Thalia’s tree she because she’d once been a girl. She still had a life force. So did the castle, and she was stunning.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry barely paid attention as the first years filed into a side chamber and Professor McGonagall talked about the school, the founder, and the house. The magic beneath his feet pulsed like a heartbeat. He closed his eyes and reached out, getting the feel of it. It was breathtaking. Staircases moved and shifted, doors vanished, classrooms changed position. There were dozens, maybe more than a hundred, hidden passages (some more hidden than others) to aid in getting around the vast school quickly. 

He only opened his eyes when new, older voices entered the room. Ghosts. Some of them spoke to the students, while others simply drifted on through. 

Then McGonagall returned and led them through another doorway. The room they entered was… the only word he could think of to properly describe it was magical. Thousands of candles floated overhead, suspended by little stings of shimmering magic (that probably no one else saw) from a ceiling that didn’t appear to be there. It looked like the sky outside, glittering with stars.

They filed between two of the four tables filled with older students, staring at them like… well, like first time campers when people were waiting to see if they were claimed in the first few days of arrival. There was an eager expectation in how they sat (some of them, some looked bored).

When they reached the open area at the front of the hall before the head table, lined with adults (probably the teachers and staff), the first years formed a huddle. Professor McGonagall sat a stool in front of them, with a ragged, patched hat that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the attic of the Big House. 

That is, until it spoke, or rather, sang a song. As it turned out, the hat would be sorting them into their houses. Okay, so Harry was less annoyed. When McGonagall had told them to smarten up, he suspected they’d need to show their expertise. It seemed whoever decided on the sorting style actually thought it through that there would be first time magic users among those being sorted. 

The sorting progressed alphabetically, so Harry had a bit of time to wait and let his stomach tie itself in knots. That voice in the back on his mind that sometimes sounded a lot like Dudley started prodding, making him worry that there had been a mistake and they’d send him home again.

Well, joke’s on you, asshole. Harry knew he had magic, since he’d used it and could feel it, and Mother had told him about it. But also, if they sent him home… well, Camp was amazing. He’d get back to his friends, his family, he’d learn magic from his mother, spar with Clarisse and the rest of the Ares cabin. So, either way, he was happy.

Hermione got sorted into Gryffindor, which surprised him a bit. He’d expected Ravenclaw, based on what he’d read and the incessant lessons via the phone he’d gotten from Hermione over the summer. But then, he’d read it was more about what you aspired to be, not what you are. So where did that leave him?

As they reached the surnames that started with ‘P’, Harry took a breath. He was famous, and McGonagall was about to announce his name. Starting now, he wouldn’t be some anonymous first year. He’d be the Harry Potter. 

Percy had told him the best way to deal with popularity is to embrace and ignore it. The real friends that would stick with you were the one who weren’t afraid to annoy you and beat you up, who would stick by you when people hated you. To find those people (and he’d looked at Annabeth and Grover) and hold onto them. 

Then it happened. His name was called, and the murmured chatter stopped for a moment, before picking up even worse, and this time about him. He squared his shoulders like he had when he faced down Tantalus and ascended the few steps to the stool. He sat down, and the hat hit his head.

A soft voice hummed in his ear. “Well, well, quite a mind here. A Greek demigod, son of Hecate. Now that’s a powerful mix of bloodlines. And despite the things you’ve heard about Slytherin, you don’t find the thought of being one of its number an anathema. You possess the values of all the houses.

“Of Gryffindor, bravery, daring, no doubt there. Demigods have those in spades. It’s been so long since demigods were something one would regularly find walking these halls, your siblings chief among them. But not always were they found in Godric’s house, something that disappointed him greatly when the founders were here. 

“For Ravenclaw, probably the house you least fit in, but still you could find a home there. You drink up the knowledge that would help you in whatever battle you foresee. 

“Slytherin, you have proven these last few months, have you not? When your comrades pushed you into the position of leadership, you excelled. Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that. You are cunning and resourceful with the knowledge you possess and use it to your advantage. But perhaps your self-preservation is found lacking. 

“And that leads us to Hufflepuff, because your loyalty shines brightly. You stand by those who you have chosen as your family over those who share your blood. You drove yourself to the point of destruction to protect your charge. 

“And for each house you also do not fit, as well. Ravenclaw, you’d rather the hands-on knowledge to the intellect. Slytherin, you lack the ambition, having no desire to have the leadership that was forced upon you. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, while brave and daring and loyal and dedicated, you don’t find value in gallantry, virtuosity or fairness to the detriment of you or yours. You will fight dirty if it means protecting those in your care.”

Harry sighed and thought I don’t feel like you spent this much time on any of the others. I know who and what I am, so just sort me, already.

The hat chuckled. “I’m not telling you who you are. I find you exceedingly difficult to place because you could fit in any house, but also may not fit into every house. So, I guess I must ask you, where do you feel you are called?”

He bristled. Wasn’t that the hat’s job, to decide where he should go. This wasn’t like Camp, where your cabin was based on your godly parent. But then, Clarisse had picked Harry, had made him an Ares kid. How many of the other Hecate kids fought like him? They relied on magic and could use a weapon if the occasion called for it. But Harry was just as comfortable with his blades as he was with his magic. 

A warm presence brushed his mind. “Might I suggest Gryffindor,” came a soft, feminine voice. “I believe the friendship you are building is one you already value.”

Iphy? He felt her shift in the sling where she rested.

The hat chuckled again. “Your familiar is wise, though that’s expected from someone who has lived through so much.” 

After the hat announced his house, the Gryffindor table erupted. He joined the table, sitting across from Hermione, next to a ghost. As the sorting finished, Ron also joined them. 

Professor Dumbledore, who Harry recognized from a chocolate frog card, stood and welcomed them before the food appeared on the table. He filled his plate and separated part of it as an offering. Then it struck him. He didn’t have a place to make the offering, or a time to do it. He’d save it for later and make his offering after the others went to bed. There had to be a fireplace he could use somewhere.

Sir Nicholas (who in no uncertain terms liked being called Nearly-Headless Nick) had thoroughly grossed out most of their part of the table by showing everyone how he got the moniker he so loathed. Harry wasn’t bothered. He’d beheaded a few monsters in his time. Nick’s arm had passed through the older student who sat on his other side, making her shiver. 

They were finishing dessert, when a stabbing pain shot through Harry’s head. He jumped, lifting his arm to touch the scar on his forehead. 

“Are you alright, Harry?” Sir Nicholas asked.

Thankfully, Harry had been eating ice cream, and he laughed it off, blaming brain freeze. As he lowered his arm again, he hit Nick’s arm. However, he didn’t pass through like the other girl. It was like elbowing any solid, living human. Harry pretended not to notice, but Nick sure had. Thankfully, the ghost didn’t say anything. 

Harry turned back to his plate, finding it completely empty. Not even the things he set aside as an offering remained. He scowled. 

Dumbledore stood up and began to review some of the school rules. The forest on the grounds was forbidden to all students. (That was familiar and oh, so tempting. That was another place on his list of places to explore. School first, then lake, then forest.) There was no magic in the halls between classes. (How often was that one broken?) 

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Oh, now, why would you go and make it sound so damn enticing? New list of priorities, School, third-floor corridor, lake, forest. 

The night ended with the singing of the school song, to whatever tune you chose. Harry didn’t join in. He barely joined in during the sing-alongs as Camp, and there, he knew the songs, knew the people, and was aware of the expectation. The teachers seemed to agree, since those that did seem to be joining in didn’t seem to be doing anything more than moving their lips. 

Finally they were excused, and Percy Weasley led them through the halls to Gryffindor Tower. After a brief incident with a poltergeist, they reached the portrait that served as the door. Harry found his bed, with his trunk already sitting at the foot. 

He wasted little time and pulled out Iphigenia’s things, hanging her basket over the foot of his bed. She climbed in and watched him as he pulled out his clothes, putting them away in his small wardrobe. While he was alone in the dormitory, he hid a few weapons around, with the Mist over them. He had a sword under his mattress, a knife tucked in the gap at the head of his bed, another sword strapped under the bed, two knives under his bedside table, and a spear tucked between the post and the curtains. Would he need them here? Probably not, but he was far more comfortable with them since the others in his dormitory did not have combat training. 

He climbed into bed as the others began to join him. He’d gotten no sleep the night before between nerves and excitement, and jet lag. He set his glasses aside and pulled the curtains around his bed, ready to sleep. 

He tossed and turned, despite being exhausted. Even Iphigenia came down to curl around his head and purred. It wasn’t like a cat, where you could hear it, but he could feel it. He sat up, slowly, so he didn’t rouse his sleeping familiar and got out of bed. He made his way down to the common room, finding it empty. He stoked the fire and sat down beside it, letting his eyes close. 

“I take it something is bothering you,” came a familiar child-like voice.

He opened his eyes and on the other side of the hearth sat an equally familiar girl, Hestia.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry lay his head back against the hearth. “Can’t sleep.”

Hestia gave him a fond smile. “You can say homesick.” And just seeing her helped some of it ease. She vanished and then reappeared beside him. She tugged him close and pulled his head to her shoulder. “Sleep. I’ll make sure you get to bed.”

“It’s hard being here, being away from Camp.”

“I know. You know, after Rome became dedicated to Christianity, Camp Half-Blood wasn’t far from here. We found roots in the druidic, Pictish beliefs, where our children could live without fear of execution.”

They were quiet for a time, before Hestia spoke again. “I’ve missed it here. The hearths in the common rooms once provided me with regular warmth. It’s been centuries since I’ve felt the call to Hogwarts.”

Harry woke early, like he always did, finding himself in a strange bed. Then he remembered where he was. Hestia must have gotten him back here after he’d fallen asleep. He brushed his teeth and threw on his workout clothes. Just because he wasn’t at camp didn’t mean he’d let his training slip. His wand sat on his arm like it would every day from now on.

It wasn’t even dawn yet. He hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble for being out this early. No one was in the common room. He left the Gryffindor Tower and stopped outside, as the portrait swung closed. 

And then he realized… he didn’t actually know where he was going. The castle was huge, and perhaps he might be able to find his way using the magic pulsing beneath his feet, but how would anyone be able to find where they were going on their first day? How were first years supposed to get to the Great Hall for breakfast? This wasn’t even screwing over Muggle-raised students, this was fucking with all new students.

The portraits around him shifted and whispered, some of the occupants pointed in his direction without care that he could see them. Wait… the portraits.

“Excuse me,” he said to the Fat Lady. “How do I get outside?”

She gave him directions that mostly consisted of landmarks of paintings, and he set off. He reached the central staircase, and got turned around. A painting didn’t need stairs and the staircases weren’t in a useful position. Then Sir Nicholas melted through a door.

“Nick!” Harry called. “Can you help me get outside?”

The ghost pivoted, looking him over. “Of course, Harry. Follow me.”

As they went, Nick pointed out various points of interest, and Harry made note of a few things to investigate more later. They finally reached the Entrance Hall.

“May I make an enquiry?” Nick asked.

“Sure.”

Instead of saying anything, Nick reached out and grasped Harry’s shoulder. So the ghost had definitely noticed. “You’re a demigod child of a necromancy deity.” The way he said it definitely wasn’t a question. “It’s been a long time since there were demigods in these halls.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Nick pulled Harry aside, speaking softly. “Any chance you could get Peeves to stop being so… Peeves?”

“What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“Ghosts are bound in service to beings of the Afterlives, be they death, the dead, necromancy, punishment, or anything else that may find their home in an afterlife, including their children.”

“And from what I know of poltergeists, they didn’t get to where they are by following the rules.”

Nick scowled. “Too true. Anyways,” he bowed to Harry, “I am honored to have been of service to you.”

Harry nodded, and as Nick began to leave, he stopped him. “You didn’t ask.”

“It’s impolite to do so. You hold the power, implicitly, no matter who may call you their child.”

“Hecate.”

Nick’s eyes went wide. “Greek. I’ve never met a Greek demigod. Celtic, Germanic, Sumarian and Persian a while back, a couple Aztec, and a fair few R…” 

Harry zoned out, eyes wandering toward the door.

“Oh, forgive me,” Nick said. “You don’t need me to prattle on. If you have need, don’t hesitate to call on me.” And he floated away. 

When Harry stepped outside, he found a courtyard leading to a few different staircases. It was still early, Eos just beginning to lighten the sky with dawn’s glow. Since he didn’t know the lay of the land, yet, he chose to begin with strength training instead of cardio. He stretched, followed by push-ups and sit-ups. When the sun still hadn’t broken the horizon, he started Phil’s usual workout he did with the kids who couldn’t use the weights yet. 

He was about to start his run, sitting in a plank when he heard footsteps on the stairs. 

“Harry?” came the booming voice of Hagrid. “Wha’re you doin’?”

“Strength training, give me a minute.” Then his watch timer went off, and he knelt, looking around. “Hagrid, right?”

The behemoth of a man nodded enthusiastically. 

“I’d introduce myself, but you seem to already know who I am. What do you do here?”

“Keeper of the keys and grounds of Hogwarts.”

“Really?” Harry grinned. “Could you give me a tour of the grounds? I like to run in the morning. It would be good to know what to look out for.”

“I have a meetin’ with Professor Dumbledore, now, but how about after breakfast? Should be serving the food any time now. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall.”

Harry agreed, and Hagrid went off to his meeting. Instead of running the grounds, Harry ran up and down the stairs until his legs burned and then went to breakfast. No one was there except one teacher, a squat, little witch with wild gray hair sticking out for beneath her battered, pointed hat. 

She lifted a teacup to her lips as Harry made his way down the Gryffindor table. She smiled at him, lifting her cup to him as he sat down. He piled toast, fried eggs, fruit and sausage onto his plate. He ate by himself. 

It was weird. At Camp, even on the weekends, people were up early, especially the Ares kids. But, no matter what, no one missed breakfast. Then again, Camp didn’t have a three hour window to have breakfast. 

“Hello, Mr. Potter.” 

He looked up to find the professor had approached him. “Morning, Professor.”

“I’m Professor Sprout, I teach Herbology. How was your first night?”

Harry shrugged. “A little homesick. I have a bunkbed back home, so not having someone in a lower bunk is weird.”

Professor Sprout gave an understanding nod. “That’s normal for the first night. I was surprised to see someone here so early this morning. On weekends, most don’t come in until much later.”

“I’m used to getting up early. Back home, I work out in the morning. I met Hagrid earlier. He’s going to give me a tour of the grounds so I can run.”

The massive figure of the gamekeeper in question loomed in the doorway. Well, loomed wasn’t quite accurate. If the door had been a normal size, he would have, but the doorway was, frankly, excessive in size, nearly floor to vaulted ceiling. 

He stood, shoving another sausage in his mouth and throwing back the rest of his orange juice. “Later, Professor.” 

For the rest of the morning, Hagrid showed him around the grounds, taking him right to the edge of the permitted land. They started by heading away from the forest. As they rounded the edge of the lake, Hagrid told him about the resident giant squid. Apparently, she was rather friendly. Soon enough, he’d find out for certain. He also told Harry about other creatures: Grindylows, Kelpies, gigantic jellies, and merfolk, along with a list of others he couldn’t follow. 

They turned away from the lake as they reached the edge of the grounds, following along the outer rampart that lined the border with the shimmering magic wards just beyond. The grounds were fairly hilly, while the wall kept level all the way around. 

When they reached the stadium, Hagrid began to tell him about Quidditch. Harry missed capture the flag, already. The one sport had four teams of seven players (and maybe a few alternates, if the houses were lucky, in case on illness or injury). So, at most, twenty-eight regular players (and however many alternates) would be all that actually had a reason to do anything outside of schoolwork. Was there no other sport in the Wizarding World?

They cut away from the edge of the grounds to look at the Quidditch pitch. It was later in the morning, so most likely more of the student population was awake. There were a few people on the pitch, or actually, flying over it. Hagrid waved at the three people who were flying overhead, throwing a ball between them. 

“Hi, Hagrid!” One of the fliers was a girl, and she waved. 

He waved back, this time more directly at her, and led Harry up to the stands, so he could get a better view of the trio of players. They took a break and flew over. 

They introduced themselves as Alicia Spinnet (a third year who was a reserve player from last year), Katie Bell (a second year who was trying out as a chaser this year), and Angelina Johnson (a third year who had started last year as a reserve player, but after an injury mid-season, had been moved up to a proper player). All three of the official players from last year, they told him, had graduated so they were hopeful for making the team. They also lamented the departure of Charlie Weasley, their Seeker. 

The trio of girls returned to training and Harry and Hagrid moved on. They continued around the grounds, to the main gates. They were flanked on both interior and exterior by winged boars. Hagrid told him about the village down the road. He would be able to visit Hogsmeade starting third year. 

Finally they got to the edge of the forest. Hagrid spent some of his time beneath those trees, and he told Harry about the dangers that lay within. Not that it did any good in dissuading Harry that he needed to explore it. There were unicorns, thestrals, hippogriffs, mooncalves, centaurs, acromantula, and many other things. Harry really wanted to find the centaur herd to talk to them about their connection to Chiron or the Party Ponies. 

They finished the tour at Hagrid’s hut, sitting down for tea and little cakes that were better weapons than food. Harry returned to the castle just in time for lunch. He found Hermione at the Gryffindor table, her nose in their Herbology textbook (again, probably). He sat down across from her.

She looked up at him, taking in his clothing. “Where have you been?” 

“I woke up early to exercise, and then I met Hagrid, the gamekeeper. He gave me a tour of the grounds.”

“What are you doing the rest of the day?”

Ron slid down to join them. “We could play chess.”

“I was going to explore the castle. We know our classes, so I should be able to track down the classrooms.”

Ron grimaced. “You’re thinking about classes when they haven’t even started?”

“Some of us,” Hermione said with distaste, “would prefer not to be late for classes on our first day.”

Harry smiled at her. He was using it as an excuse to get her to explore the school with him. And if doing that would make Ron leave them be for another day, then more the better. 

He had just finished eating, with a bit of food set aside for an offering, when the plate vanished, leaving his spot empty. He looked down the table, finding it cleared of food. He sighed in disappointment and stood.

Time to explore. 

Harry stood in the bathroom, using the mist from the shower to create a rainbow. He pulled out a drachma and tossed it in, calling out for Iris. 

Clarisse appeared. “Hey, kid. How was the first day?”

Harry sighed. “Fine, I guess. It’s rather boring. The train, yesterday, was fine. I met someone, not sure if he’s a friend yet. He seemed like he knew who I was already and was just trying to be friends because of that. He was a bit of an ass to Hermione. I had a few more sweets we hadn’t tried. I’ll send you a few. Then we sailed across the lake in these magical boats.”

“You’re itching to explore it, aren’t you?”

He scowled. “And I have no Percy to help me breathe.”

“Find a spell.”

“I got sorted into Gryffindor, but the hat said I had potential for all the houses, but seemed like Slytherin was the other leading option.”

Clarisse frowned. “I would have bet money you’d be Slytherin. I mean, sure, bravery, daring, and chivalry and all that, you have that. But you are definitely cunning and resourceful whenever we’re sparring, and you have the makings of a great leader, one day.” She stopped, staring at him through the connection. “What is it?”

“I miss home.”

“Oh, kid, I know. We all do when we leave for school or a quest or to visit our families.”

“Did you?”

She looked over her shoulder, and then turned back. “I will smother you in your sleep if you ever tell anyone I said this, but… yeah, on my quest. It was hard knowing no one wanted to come with me.” She cut him off before he could argue. “No one else. I wasn’t about to take you with me on what I thought would be a quest that would kill anyone with me. And gods, I missed you. I miss you, now. Our bunk is too still without you rolling around above me.”

Harry felt himself blush. “I just have a plain bed. I don’t know how I’ll do so close to the ground. I’ve got four boys in my dormitory so it won’t be too quiet, but still… the sounds and smells are all different. I had trouble sleeping last night, and I wandered down to the common room to sit by the fire. And Hestia visited. That helped a bit.”

“Good.”

He sat down on the floor, leaning his head back. 

“I explored the castle and grounds today. I found all my classrooms, and the groundskeeper gave me a tour so I know what I can do to train.”

“You better find time to practice. I don’t want you coming home and being out of shape.”

He gave a small laugh, but it was forced. 

“What’s really bothering you?”

“How do you make sacrifices when you’re not at Camp? I keep trying to save some things to make an offering, but the entire plate vanishes.”

“I didn’t when I was on my quest. I don’t think most campers keep up with it when they aren’t here. But you could try talking to your head teacher, say it’s a religious thing, since it kinda is.”

Harry felt tension ease in his neck. He hadn’t realized how much it had been stressing him. “Yeah, I’ll try that in the morning, when we get our classes.” He yawned. 

“Get some sleep, kid. I’ve got to run. I’ve got sparring with the Athena cabin.”

He thanked Iris and ended the message. Then he showered and climbed into bed. Sleep came a bit easier to him than the night before.

Chapter Text

Harry

The next morning, Harry rolled out of bed early, like usual. He really missed being woken by banging on a shield. He changed into his workout gear and made his way outside. He started his morning with running around the edge of the grounds, starting by the lake and finishing near Hagrid’s hut.

The groundskeeper walked out of his front door as Harry passed by, giving him a wave. Harry stopped in the courtyard he’d used yesterday, stretching and doing his pull-ups, push-ups, and sit-ups. Then he headed for the Great Hall for breakfast. 

Professor McGonagall and the other heads of houses were sitting at the teachers’ table when he arrived. He checked his watch. Breakfast had barely started, and most people had yet to arrive. He was the first Gryffindor.

McGonagall made her way to him as he sat. “Mr. Potter, you’re up quite early.”

“I went for a run.” He began to pile food on his plate. 

“Let me get you your schedule so when you’re done eating you can get changed without needing to wait for me.” She pulled out her wand and waved it over the parchment she carried. 

“Professor, I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Is there a way for me to take some food with me?”

She raised a brow. “For what purpose?”

“Religious reasons. I need to make an offering of every meal I eat.”

McGonagall nodded. “I will arrange a container for you and inform the house elves.” She handed him a page of parchment. “Your schedule, Mr. Potter. Your flying classes will not begin until next Thursday, then they will join your normal schedule. Good day, Mr. Potter.”

Harry looked at his normal Monday schedule. Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Slytherin first thing, then a break before lunch. Then Charms with Ravenclaw, and flying with Slytherin (once next week rolled around), then another break, then History of Magic with Hufflepuff. 

Hermione arrived a short while later and sat down beside him. “I’m so nervous,” she whispered. “What if I haven’t prepared enough?”

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes, handing her his schedule (likely the same that she’d be getting, McGonagall was down the table with some older Gryffindor students). “Do you really think Ron has bothered to even open his books? And you’ve nearly memorized them, right?”

She gave him an anxious smile. “You’re right, I’m being silly.”

“It’s alright to be nervous.” He finished eating and bid her farewell. When he got to the dormitory, everyone else was still asleep, which was fine. There was still over an hour until class. He showered quickly and got dressed. He checked his watch, wishing it wasn’t the middle of the night in New York. But Annabeth was on the west coast, so…

He turned on the shower and tossed a drachma into the rainbow the spray created. When Annabeth appeared, she was sitting in bed, a book propped on her knees. Typical.

“Harry!” she said. “How’s the new school?”

He shrugged. “First day of classes, today. I talked to Clarisse last night, but it’s the middle of the night for her, and, really, you’re a better person to talk to about school.” He asked for tips on studying and homework, for dealing with the dyslexia, about how he’d had all his schoolbooks translated to Ancient Greek.

She gave a playful pout. “Wish I could do that. It would make reading so much easier.”

“Maybe I can find the spell, and I can translate some of your books next time I see you.”

She brightened. “That would be amazing. Are you—”

Harry lifted his hand, silencing her as he listened to the movement in the dormitory . He dropped his voice to a whisper. “My dorm mates are waking up. Talk to you later.”

She smiled and waved, and he severed the connection.

Neville trudged into the bathroom, murmuring something that was probably a good morning or something similar. Harry checked his watch. It was after seven. He checked on Dean, Seamus, and Ron, all of whom were still asleep. 

“Oi, wake up!”

The three groaned. 

“What time is it?” Dean mumbled. 

“Seven fifteen.”

Ron’s glare would have been more effective if his hair didn’t look like he’d been shocked by Clarisse’s spear. “Breakfast goes until nine.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “And we have Defense starting at eight. If you want to be late on your first day, be my guest.” He opened his trunk and pulled out his messenger bag, a pack of his veggie-parchment, a pack of quills, three inkwells, and his books for the day. 

A History of Magic and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection were pretty obvious for History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Standard Book of Spells was probably for Charms class. But he couldn’t place where he’d be using Magical Theory or Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them so he pulled those out, too. 

He closed his trunk and packed his things for the morning, including the three books he’d need for those classes. He left the ones for the afternoon sitting on top of his trunk. 

He dressed in his uniform, and once he was certain no one was watching him, he stashed his weapons under his clothes. He had a sheath along his calf for his knife. His sword sat in his pocket, with the magic keeping the blade hidden. He pulled on his outer robe and threw Iphy’s sling across his back. She perked up and trilled, jumping into his arms. Then she scuttled around to settle into the sling for the day.

When Harry left the dormitory at seven-thirty, Neville wasn’t far behind him. Dean and Seamus were getting dressed, and Ron was still in bed, asleep. He waited in the common room for Neville, and they walked to the Great Hall together. Harry stopped by the table to pick up a bit of food for Iphy and then walked outside. It was just… stifling inside. He’d lived at Camp Half-Blood for over a year, and the most time inside was either in the cabin, which always had a breeze, the Big House where Chiron tried to keep the meetings short or held them on the patio, or the forge which provided enough excitement so as not to be boring. 

He begrudgingly headed to class, and as he passed the door to the Great Hall, he saw Ron being hurried along by his brother, Percy, who was lecturing him. Harry found Hermione standing outside the classroom with five minutes until class. The professor opened the door for them, and those who were early to class filed in. 

Professor Quirrell introduced himself, and the stuttering was going to make it really hard for Harry’s ADHD riddled mind to concentrate. Ten minutes into class, Ron stumbled in. Harry rolled his eyes and tried his best to take notes. 

Two hours later, they finally escaped. Hermione gushed about how exciting this and that were, but Harry suspected she would be able to find something interesting in a class about watching paint dry as long as it was magical paint. 

Their homework was to read the first chapter of their book and write a ten sentence summary. Harry walked with Hermione outside to a new courtyard and sat in the grass. He shed his robe as he pulled out his book. Sure, he’d read it already (alright, fine, skimmed it), but he did so again, making notes on important details. 

Ron found them and sat down beside them. He tried to get Harry to talk about chocolate frogs and chess and Quidditch. 

“Ron,” Harry snapped, irritated at the constant interruptions. “I’m trying to do homework, so if you want to stay, shut up.”

Ron turned a bit pink. “It’s not like it’s due until next week.”

“And we still have more classes between now and then, so we’ll probably get more homework.” Harry turned back to his book. 

By the time lunch rolled around, Ron had abandoned them, and Harry had finished his assignment. He looked at Hermione’s summary, which was nearly three pages. “Summary, Hermione,” he told her. “The assignment’s for ten sentences.”

“But I can’t simplify it any more!” she lamented. 

He had figured her for an overachiever, but she was being ridiculous. “It’s just so he knows we actually read it. He’s not expecting you to teach it. There were eight sections in the chapter, right? Write one sentence that pertains to the chapter title, one for each section, and one about something that you found interesting.” That had been a tip Annabeth had given him, break it down into manageable portions.

She gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, Harry. That helps.”

They found Ron again, at the lunch table, food spilling off his plate, as he shoveled it into his mouth. This time Harry let himself be drawn into conversation, about chess, as they ate. Ron’s manners were worse than some of the camp kids, but at least they had excuses. Street kids learned early on you eat as much as you can as fast as you can, otherwise you might lose your chance. Ron just seemed ill-mannered. He heard Hermione mutter something about being raised by wolves. At least he was using cutlery. 

After eating, Harry returned to the dormitory to trade out his books for Charms. Professor Flitwick was fun to learn from. He began class much as Quirrell had, introductions and a summary of what they’d be learning. Then he began a lecture on the difference between charms, jinxes, curses, hexes, enchantments, and spells. Who knew there was such a deviation on classifications? And that was without going into the transfiguration side of magic. He said he’d leave that to Professor McGonagall. 

Homework consisted of going to the library or looking through their school books and finding an example of each. One house point would be given for an example if the student was the only person in class to find it. That was a smart way, in Harry’s opinion, to get people interested in looking. 

Normally, they’d have flight training, next, then a free period, so Harry and Hermione made their way to the library. Ron started to follow them, but when he saw the doors of the library, he scowled and left, muttering to himself. It was easy enough. They met the librarian, who was more severe than McGonagall. 

Before the end of what would have been their flying class, they both had finished the assignment, and were still looking for more obscure ones, hoping to get the house points. Then Harry turned his attention to finding the translation spell that had been used on his books. 

He approached Madam Pince, waiting as she finished what she was doing. “I’m looking for a spell the shopkeeper in Diagon Alley did for me. It translated my books into another language. I was also wondering if there was something similar that would help me for things written on the board in the classrooms or for library books.”

She raised a brow. “Why?”

“English isn’t the language I learn best in. But I obviously don’t want to cause issues with any library books.”

Madam Pince stood and walked over to a cabinet. She flicked her wand and a card appeared. She wrote something on a small slip of parchment and handed it to him. “I believe these two books will have what you are looking for. If they don’t, there’s another, but it’s in the restricted section, so you will need permission from Professor Flitwick to check it out.”

He thanked her and set off to find the two books. But the time he’d located them, it was nearly time for History of Magic. He checked out the books and rushed to the dormitory to trade out books. 

History of Magic was… boring. It was taught by the only ghost teacher, and he droned. Harry wondered if the man ever noticed new classes had arrived, or were all students the same? He tried his best, he really did, but when they were learning about a wizard who was best know for wearing a jellyfish for a hat and another who was too cowardly to leave his house. Harry wasn’t quite sure how those two could possibly have contributed enough to the magical world to be worth studying.

Finally, just as he was about to nod off, the class ended. For homework, they had to pick one of the five people discussed in class (there had been five?) and list their top five accomplishments. Harry went with jellyfish-hat dude (even though Percy Jackson’s voice sounded in his ear that jellies were not, in fact, fish at all and should not be referred to as such, same for sea stars). He really missed his friend. 

They had a bit of time before dinner, so he looked through his book to complete the homework. Hopefully after dinner, he’d be able to explore a bit. He needed to find a place where he could practice with his sword. His ADHD was playing up big time, since he hadn’t been able to spar with anyone. He was constantly waiting on an attack, because at Camp, you never went very long before someone was swinging a weapon your way. 

Unfortunately, Ron had dragged him into a game of chess, which he chose to play instead. Harry learned to play from Annabeth, but Ron was better. He suspected Annabeth’s nature to think twelve steps ahead was thwarted by an opponent who played fast and loose (like Harry who channeled Ares tactics). Ron adapted better. They played three games, all of which Harry lost, because damn it he wanted to win. He hadn’t managed, but he would.

Chapter Text

Harry

The second day of classes began much like the first. Harry woke early, while his dormitory mates still slept. Iphy moved to curl up in the warm spot in the bed Harry had vacated. And on his trunk sat a glass container with a lid for his offering.

He started with his run, this time starting at the edge of the forest. When he reached the front gate, he turned to follow the drive back to the school. Then he went into strength training. 

Once finished, he headed to Gryffindor Tower. He needed to feed Iphigenia better than yesterday morning. Once he had showered, dressed and armed himself, he checked the clock, ten-to-seven, so early enough that all his roommates still being asleep didn’t bother him. He really needed to stop caring about that. They weren’t demigods who trained early. They weren’t his adoptive siblings in Ares cabin. They could make their own choices.

He grabbed his school bag with his offering container and book and supplies for Herbology. He made his way down the the Great Hall for breakfast and found Hermione sitting across from Percy Weasley, asking him about classes.

Harry sat down and piled food on his plate. 

“How was your first day of classes, yesterday, Harry?” Percy asked. 

Harry shrugged. “Fine I guess. Quirrell’s stutter made it hard to focus, but otherwise it was okay.”

“What do you have today?”

“Herbology, Potions, double Transfiguration.”

He spent the rest of breakfast listening to Percy’s advice for the different professors and homework. Iphy climbed onto the table and grabbed a few pieces of food from his plate. When he was done, he scooped his food he’d set aside into his offering container. On the lid there were directions from the Great Hall.

He extricated himself from the conversation that Hermione had already left to get changed from classes. He followed the directions and found a dusty classroom with a fireplace. A strange creature stood there, sweeping it out. It had bat-like ears and wore a sort of pillowcase. 

“Hello?” Harry said. 

The creature squeaked and turned toward him, large eyes wide. “Oh, is you Mr. Potter? Missy is to start a fire for Mr. Potter for an offering.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Missy bowed her large head and snapped her fingers. The logs in the fireplace sprang to life. She kept glancing at him. “Is Mr. Potter a… a demigod, sir?”

“I… yes.”

“Missy has always heard the demigods were kind to house elves. House elves were once servants of the home goddess. And she would bless and protect us. But when the gods left…”

Harry smiled and tossed his offering into the flames. “Goddess Hestia, I ask that you receive my offering and bless those that care for the hearths of this school.”

Missy squeaked again and got teary, even as she beamed.

“I would like to see where all the work gets done. I imagine feeding all these people isn’t a small task.”

Missy shook her head. “We also clean the castle. There is much work to do. If Mr. Potter don’t need anything else, Missy needs to return to the kitchens.”

“No, thank you for your time.” Harry sat by the fire a little longer, then left to find the Herbology greenhouses. 

Professor Sprout was very knowledgable about her subject and very kind. The class went by quickly, with only a small bit of homework, just five facts about the basic needs of a magical greenhouse. Harry and Hermione had actually managed to convince Ron to do this set of homework. Then they had some free time, so Harry continued his education in chess. 

After lunch, they made their way to the dungeons for Potions. Outside the classroom, they met up with the other half of the class, the Slytherins. Ron muttered and scowled at them, and Harry just rolled his eyes. The arrogant blond Harry had briefly met on the train sneered and approached them.

“So, Potter, have you come to the realization that some Wizarding families are better than others? The Malfoy family can help you make friends with the right sort.”

Harry gave Malfoy a slow once over. He held himself like he was used to being respected, not unlike Phobos and Demos. His family must hold some kind of power in the Wizarding World, so they were probably pureblood, and from his words and tone, likely the side his parents fought in the war. “I like to make my own opinions on the right sort, thanks. But as someone who appears to be in a family that may have the power to change things, it would be foolish of me to turn down the offer of at least professional respect.”

Malfoy looked annoyed, but seemed to concede with a nod. Then the door to the classroom opened, and the students filed in. The room was dim and dank and smelled of magic. Most people would probably not notice that particular undertone, but Harry did. 

Professor Snape stood and took roll, pausing on Harry’s name. “Mr. Potter, our new celebrity.” The way he said it was unlike the awe some of the others Harry’s met had said his name. It was almost contemptuous. He turned his attention to introducing his subject, doing a terrible job at insighting any form of excitement. He seemed to think the students in his care incapable of understanding even the simplest of instructions. 

“Potter,” Snape said, “what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Hermione’s hand shot into the air. 

He doubted Snape was speaking of the place Asphodel in the underworld, so what Harry knew of the ingredients was asphodel was used by the Greeks for medicinal uses, and wormwood was poisonous in the right quantities. So, he couldn’t see why the two would be used together. Harry shrugged.

“Let’s try again. Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?”

So that’s how it was going to be. The man who was meant to be teaching them had decided he hated Harry for some reason. Hermione’s hand was still up, raising just a little further. 

“Still don’t know?” Snape stepped closer to his table. “Another then, what’s the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Harry wasn’t going to rise to the bait. He was going to wait and see what Snape’s game was. 

Snape’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Clearly fame isn’t everything.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Clearly, you have some kind of superiority complex. It’s the first day of class, and you expect us to know information you are meant to be teaching us. If you had an expectation of us knowing something, you should have communicated a reading assignment along with the supply list. I’m beginning to agree with my sister when she says you’re purposely trying to fuck over Muggleborns and those not raise in a Wizarding household, given that a majority of the supplies, for your class specifically, were not put on the supply list and students are expected to just know.”

Snape’s face turned stormy. 

“Furthermore, if you actually wanted a response to any of your questions, Hermione seems very confident in having the answers. So, I can’t help but feel like you have a vendetta against me. That being said, you are an educator and therefore should not single certain students out and try to trip them up intentionally.”

“Mr. Potter-”

“As for you questions, asphodel root was once thought to have medicinal uses in non-magical Greece. Wormwood is a poison. So I imagine mixing them isn’t for anything helpful. I'm assuming if I needed it, a bezoar would be in your supply cupboard. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they’re the same plant. Is that enough for you, of should I simply use the required texts to learn the subject you’ve been hired to teach?”

The class was still. No one seemed to even dare to breathe as Harry and Snape sat in a staring match. Snape broke first, which Harry took as a small victory, and crossed the room to loom over him. 

“For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it’s called the Drought of the Living Death. A bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat and can save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are also called aconite.” He cast a glance around. “Why is no one copying this down?”

Everyone else scrambled to pull out quills and parchment, while Harry made a show of lounging back in his chair and pulling out his knife. 

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your disrespect, Potter.”

Harry scoffed. Yeah, that was how it was going to be. And the rest of the lesson solidified that, when Neville managed to melt his cauldron, Harry had been blamed for it and lost another point for not correcting the mistake of another pair at the next table over. And yet, Snape kept praising Malfoy.

He was an Ares kid. He didn’t let that sort of thing stand. He sent a flash of Hecate magic at Malfoy’s caldron as Snape was inspecting it, and it coughed acrid smoke right into the professor’s face, leaving his brows singed. Harry hid his grin in his hand as he stirred his potion.

Chapter Text

Harry

The rest of potions class went… smoothly enough. Snape barked at everyone, but didn’t single Harry out again. Their homework included ten inches of parchment on the ingredients included in the potion they’d brewed, where to find them and how to harvest them due by their Friday class.

As they left the dungeons, Ron grumbled about all the homework they already had. Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione lectured him about using his free time more wisely since they had already finished the rest of their homework. Then he began to complain that they were headed to the library to get a start on their recently assigned homework. 

Iphy poked her head out of her sling, chirping at them. Hermione smiled and scratched under her chin. Harry had forgotten she was with him. He’d gotten so used to her presence she was already like another part of himself. Ron ran off with Seamus and Dean when he saw them in the Entrance Hall. 

Most of the next hour was spent going through the ingredients for the cure for boils and finding the information they needed. Hermione gave Harry one of the notebooks so he could outline his assignment. He’d been hoping to be able to look through the books he’d checked out yesterday, but he only just finished the research he needed for his potions assignment. 

They packed up their things and made their way to transfiguration class. Professor McGonagall started with roll call, like many of the other teachers had. Just as she was finishing, Ron, Dean, and Seamus ran in, muttering about getting lost. 

Class was mostly lecture about the subject and how it different from other branches of magic. McGonagall’s Scottish accent somehow made it easier for Harry to concentrate on the lesson as he took notes. 

She assigned similar homework to Flitwick, except regarding her subject, with the specific branches of transformation, switching, untransfiguration, vanishment, and conjuration. 

Harry ate dinner and slipped out to make his offering. And for the first time, Harry didn’t rush to finish his homework. He found Missy in the classroom, ready to start a fire for him. 

“Instead of making the offering here, could you show me to the kitchens?” he asked. 

Her eyes went wide and she nodded, looking like her head might roll from her shoulders. With a snap of her fingers, she gave him a map to follow. “Missy will be waiting for Mr. Potter, sir.”

“Why can’t you lead me?”

“House elves are meant to be invisible. House elves shouldn’t be seen doing our jobs, sir.”

Harry nodded, and she vanished. He didn’t like how the elves seemed to be treated. At camp, there were beings that cooked and cleaned the common areas, but it wasn’t expected they not be seem. When he arrived at the kitchens, Missy was waiting at the doorway. She showed him how to tickle the pear in the painting that acted as the door. 

Inside was a massive kitchen with at least a hundred house elves scurrying about. It was warm and inviting and smelled like so many things. It should have been overwhelming, but the various scents didn’t mix in a way that might be distasteful. 

There were five tables set up like the four house tables and the staff table in the Great Hall. Some of the house elves added plates of food that quickly vanished. Used plates and goblets appeared and were quickly whisked away by other elves. Still others tended to the ovens and stoves or mixed large caldrons over the fires. 

Harry walked over to the main fireplace, feeling eyes on him. He threw his offering into the flames. “Goddess Hestia, bless the elves of Hogwarts. Provide them with protection and rest as they go about their lives here at the castle.”

The kitchens fell quiet save the sounds of the food cooking and the fires burning. He felt someone move beside him far taller than the elves, and he glanced aside. Hestia, child-like as always, stared into the flames. 

She spoke in Ancient Greek. “They’re treated better here than most other places. They used to serve the temples of the gods. When the school was first built, Helga Hufflepuff brought many here, and they’ve served here ever since. After that, it became… stylish to have an elf serve your family. Then wizardkind perverted their oaths. What once bound them to the temples, to the god or goddess they dedicated themselves to, was used instead to force the elves into servitude to a magical family.”

She waved her hand over the embers, stoking the flames. “Helga asked the elves she brought here to swear their oaths to Hogwarts, as it was not unlike a temple, with its own magic and life.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “I’ve felt that.”

“Over the years, some of the headmasters have twisted those oaths to be to them alongside the castle. There was one about a century back who tried to get all the elves to re-swear oaths to him, some Black. Most of that family are vile with no respect to the deeper magics of the world. Elves should be sworn to a place, like a castle or manor, not to the people. They should be cared for. I loath how they’ve become so accustomed to wearing rags. Once they were adorned with the same garments as priests and priestesses.”

Harry reached out and took her hand. “Maybe we can change it.”

She smiled at him. “If there’s anyone who will be able to find a way, it will be you. You have two magical lineages. Maybe Annabeth can help you.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I already have enough homework. Must you give me some too?”

Hestia laughed, warm like the fire. “Well, you have plenty of time, and maybe you’ll find people here willing to help you.”

When Harry turned around, he saw the house elves still working, but with their gazes flitting over to the goddess beside him. He glanced back at Hestia and gone was the little girl tending the fire. She looked far more like one might imagine a goddess to look. She wore a traditional Grecian peplos of rich scarlet, with ornate golden clasps at her shoulders. Intricate golden and celestial bronze jewelry glittered on her hands and arms. A gauzy golden cloak draped around her shoulder fastened by a broach with her symbol, a sort of pi with horns, glittering in red gems. Atop her head sat an eccentric headdress that someone managed to embody fire frozen in metal and jewels.  

Harry felt his jaw drop. He knew, of course he knew, she was a goddess. His mother had always appeared in a subtle, yet striking way. Phobos and Demos were their own breed of out there. And Dionysus was… Dionysus. 

He’d heard about the other gods from some of the other campers, both from random meetings and on official visits (like the winter solstice that had been the first step toward the coming war with the Titans). The gods liked to show off at times. This Hestia was certainly what Harry expected the gods to look like, but just… not… Hestia. 

She gave him a playful smirk, almost like she was reading his thoughts. She turned her attention (and Harry’s with her) to the house elves. She spoke in a language Harry didn’t recognize, but the elves certainly did. They brightened and gathered around Hestia as she stepped to the center of the kitchen. 

Maybe a dozen baby house elves appeared from somewhere and the mothers brought them to the goddess, along with a couple dozen child-like house elves. Hestia knelt down and spoke softly to them, golden magic swirling around her fingers to each little head. She had to be blessing them. A few elderly house elves hobbled over, with the help of others, getting their own blessings, and they straightened like they’d been granted a renewed strength (they probably had been). 

Harry sat at one of the table, watching as Hestia spoke to the elves. Some of them still bustled around with dinner. Missy brought him a plate even though he’d already eaten. Other elves brought him small helpings of whatever they’d made as they placed it on the tables to be sent to the Great Hall. 

Dinner had long ended when Hestia stood. The elves gave her long, respectful bows, as she made her way over to the fireplace, melting back into the girl Harry was far more used to seeing. She bid him goodnight and faded into the flames. 

As he began to leave, the elves accosted him, babbling their thanks that he’d returned Hestia to their hearths. He made his exit and vowed to himself to spend at least one meal a week in the kitchens learning about the tiny creatures who cared for them. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Wednesday started much the same as the previous two days. Harry spent his morning working out. He stopped by the lake, skipping a few stones into the water. He really needed to figure out a spell that would help him breathe underwater. Maybe he could talk to one of the older students, maybe Percy Weasley. But he would probably ask why Harry wanted to learn it and likely disapprove. 

He took a break on his run at the Quidditch pitch, where students from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were practicing. He used the stands to stretch while watching the students soar about. He was looking forward to learning to fly next week. 

“Harry!” One of the girls he met before swooped down. “Enjoying classes?”

“Yeah, it’s been great.” He paused. “Sorry, what was your name again?”

“Angelina.”

The Weasley twins shot up on either side of her. 

“These idiots are the Weasley twins, the Gryffindor beaters. We’ve got a few more people trying out for their spots, so we may have new beaters this year.”

“Yeah, right,” one twin said. 

“Like anyone could outshine us,” the other added. 

“We’re the best beaters—”

“—in the school.”

“Certainly the most irritating,” one of the other girls laughed. 

“Alicia, you wound us.”

She rolled her eyes and flew off, with the twins following after her. They seemed fun, kind of like the Stolls. Gods, he missed his friends. Maybe tonight he could Iris message Camp and talk to them. 

As he walked back up to the castle he met up with Hagrid. 

“Mornin’, Harry,” the massive man said. “Been meaning to chat with you. You got some time off this afternoon, righ’? Wanted to invite you down to my place for tea.”

“I’d love to. Mind if I bring a friend or two?”

“More the merrier.”

So, the day began. Morning class was double Charms with Ravenclaw, so he reviewed his homework over breakfast. Ron was actually up early because he was scrambling to finish his very first homework assignment. It didn’t bode well for him if he didn’t get his shit together. 

Hermione was reviewing her assignment, too, rewriting it for probably the third time. Iphigenia scuttled across the table and sprawled across the new roll of parchment Hermione was trying to use to redo her homework, demanding belly scratches. Hermione sighed and smiled, giving in to Iphy’s request. 

Class went well enough. They began with wand movements and taking notes throughout the lecture. Getting into the practicality so early was perfect for Harry. Combining knowledge with something physical had always helped him learn best. But, honestly, most demigods were probably like that. 

After class, he decided to put off the homework for later, because he wanted to explore. He began to add to his mental map of the school. While before he’d had how to get to his classes and where they were, he started to branch out. With a hundred forty-two staircases and secret passages unknown, he had plenty to keep him occupied. He had the displeasure during this excursion to encounter Filch and Mrs. Norris. 

“A student skipping class,” Filch snarled. “I’ll report you to your head of house, boy.”

Harry rolled his eyes and kept walking. “Fuck off. I don’t have a class.”

Mrs. Norris scampered out in front of him and cut him off, hissing, her fur standing up on end. Iphy slid from her place wrapped around Harry’s shoulders (she’d been enjoying the exploring, too) and squared up to the feline. The cat looked even scrawnier when facing down with the polecat that was easily twice her size. 

Harry snapped his fingers, making Iphy settle, speaking in even Ancient Greek, “She’s a cat, not a fucking harpy, Iphy.”

Iphy bristled but left the cat alone. She trotted alongside Harry as he continued down the hall, ignoring Filch’s shouting after them. 

A quick lunch in the kitchens, because he was closer to them than the Great Hall, and he went back to exploring during what would soon become one of his flying classes. Then he had to sit through another class of stuttering and stammering with Quirrell. 

Then he escaped. 

He dragged Hermione with him to Hagrid’s, leaving Ron behind, because he assumed they were headed to the library. To be fair, Hermione had been trying to go to the library, but Harry wouldn’t let her. 

They had a nice afternoon having tea and avoiding the cakes with Hagrid. Hermione enjoyed asking the groundskeeper a hundred questions about the school that Hogwarts: A History hadn’t completely covered. 

Harry saw a newspaper sitting on the table and pulled it out, reading through the articles. It was an old copy, from over the summer. The front page was all about Gringotts getting robbed, sort of. There had been an attempted robbery, but the vault that the thief had attempted to steal from had been emptied earlier in the day. Clearly not a Hermes kid. Why only steal from one vault. If you knew how to break into a place as secure as Gringotts, why stop at one vault?

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry rolled out of bed even earlier than normal. It was the second Thursday of term, and the first day of flying class. He spent his morning running so he could focus in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall wouldn’t appreciate his ADHD ticks that were bound to play up if he didn’t exhaust himself. 

He made a brief stop in the Great Hall for breakfast, without Iphy, because she seemed annoyed by his nervous excitement. She’s taken one look at him when he’d been in the dormitory to shower and change and had scampered into her basket, with a flick of her tail that seemed to be waving him off. 

As he ate, far later than normal, the post had arrived. He got a letter. He opened it, finding a note from Clarisse. Iris messages were getting complicated, since the time difference was hard to account for. She’d discovered the magical center of the United States was New York City, and they had an international post system. So, she (and Percy and Annabeth and anyone else) could send him letters through the owl post, and they had the equivalent of a P.O. Box there she’d be checking a couple times a week. 

She assured him she would pass on any letters he sent to the proper recipient (“even Percy fucking Jackson”). The pair still held their animosity even though Harry suspected it had morphed into a rivalry with grudging respect after the Fleece quest. Clarisse hadn’t said as much, but the way she spoke of the son of Poseidon was different than it used to be, even more so in the last couple weeks. Harry tried to get her to talk about the goings on at Camp, but whatever she’d done, she wasn’t talking. And neither was Percy.

He tucked the letter into the private pocket of his school bag, looking around at the others at the table. Neville held a glass orb, scowling as the smoke inside turned red. Apparently when the smoke turned such a color, the holder had forgotten something. 

Then Malfoy appeared, plucking the object from Neville’s fingers. Ron leapt up, looking ready to fight. While Harry hadn’t found a reason to like Malfoy in the last two weeks, he wasn’t about to get what would likely be at least a detention for fighting in front of most of the teachers. The smoke was still red. Maybe Malfoy had forgotten to not be a total jackass. 

“Find something pretty, did you, Malfoy?” he asked. “Small minds are easily distracted by shiny things.”

Malfoy sneered and dropped the ball into Neville’s lap. Well, certainly forgot his manners. He pressed his hands to the table, leaning toward Harry. “You know what, Potter?”

Harry lifted his hand in front of his eyes. “Sorry, I know my glasses as shiny, too. Wouldn’t want you to get distracted, again.”

Malfoy sputtered, straightening. Before he could do anything further, Professor McGonagall swept over. 

“What seemed to be the problem here?” she asked in her stern, take-no-nonsense way. 

“Nothing, Professor,” Harry said, dropping his hand. “Just a chat between classmates. Malfoy’s a little nervous over our first flying class. We were just assuring him no one will judge him if he falls off his broom.”

Malfoy gave a squawk of outrage, face flushing bright red. McGonagall’s lips pursed, but Harry thought he caught a flash of mirth in her eyes. 

“Be that as it may, I believe you Gryffindors should be headed to my classroom, as our session begins shortly. Mr. Malfoy, if you and your housemates would be on your way. I know your morning is relatively free, but others have places to be.”

Malfoy shot Harry a glare before slinking back to the Slytherin table. The first year Gryffindors gathered their things, at which point Neville discovered he had forgotten his school bag in the dormitory and took off at a run. 

As Harry sat down in Transfiguration, he realized his morning workout had done little to help him. The last thing he wanted to do was sit through a lecture when the promise of learning to fly was just hours away. He really needed to figure out how to practice his fighting. That might help, too. 

He spent class with his leg bouncing, fingers tapping, and mind wandering. Hermione’s hand shot out halfway through class, fingers biting into his knee to still his leg. She pulled off her ring and handed it to him. It was simple and silver, and the outer portion spun free of the inner portion. It helped a little. He stopped bothering her so much, but he couldn’t focus any better. 

Finally, he escaped, but he still had time to kill before class. Instead of homework, he explored the castle a bit more, finding a hidden passage from the first floor to the fourth. 

He arrive to class twenty minutes early, before the teacher had even arrived. Not long after, though, she did, opening a door at the base of one of the interior curtain walls. Why a place like Hogwarts, with its magical protection had two layers of fortification in addition to the castle itself, was beyond him. Maybe it was the aesthetic. 

Camp Half-Blood, which was known to have monster incursions even before the current issue with the Titan Lord and all that, had only a magical barrier. Was that so much more powerful than whatever encircled Hogwarts? Or had there not been whatever protective warding shimmered overhead when the founders had first built it? He knew there had been issues with the mortal… Muggle world before the Wizarding World had enacted the Statute of Secrecy. But still, it wasn’t like torches and pitchforks and idiots with swords could do much against someone wielding magic. 

So, he was going to go with aesthetic, like the stubborn demand of quills and ink and parchment.

He hurried over to the teacher. “Morning, Professor.” 

The woman had short gray hair, and she turned her yellow-eyed gaze on him. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt like he was back at Camp pinned under the security harpies’ piercing glare. “It’s Madam Hooch, Mr. Potter.”

He nodded. “Do you need help setting up for class?” He let his attention drift to the brooms in the… well, he wanted to call it an armory, even though it held no weapons, shields or armor. It was set up similar to the one at camp, with racks for brooms instead of swords and spears, tables covered in some kind of padding, and a locked area in the back that held some kind of cases that shook of their own accord. 

“That won’t be necessary, Potter.” Madam Hooch gave a flick of her wand, and the brooms pulled away from their stands and floated out to where Harry assumed they were be practicing. “You ever been on a broom, boy?”

Harry shook his head, as his battle instincts began to kick in. He’d ridden horses, even the ones with wings. He preferred riding a pegasus in a general sense, finding being in the air far more enjoyable, but as an individual, Brimstone was his go-to stead (and he seemed to be her preferred rider, seeing as he was the only person she hadn’t tried to throw).

He reached toward one of the floating brooms, only to have a shock crackle across the backs of his fingers and hand. He flinched back, shaking it out.

Madam Hooch chuckled. “Not yet, Potter. You still have to wait for the rest of the class. And I expect you to pay attention and listen to instructions. I can ground students who don’t listen. Then all you’ll get to do is watch until I see fit to give your broom back.”

Finally, class began. Madam Hooch had everyone stand next to a broom and command it into their hands. Everyone began ordering their brooms around, to no avail.

Harry put his hand out and gave an even, “Up,” in the same way he spoke to the various horses (winged or otherwise) in the Camp stables. The broom shot into his hand and seemed to thrum with life. It twitched and jolted minutely, probably feeding on his excitement. He figured brooms were like horses, reading their riders emotions and anxieties. 

Hermione scowled at Harry as she still hadn’t managed it when over a third of their classmates had. He looked his friend over, noticing her hands trembling a bit.

“Breathe,” he told her. “You ever been around a horse?”

She nodded. 

“Think of a broom like a horse.”

She winced. “I don’t really like horses.”

“Close your eyes and think about something that relaxes you, like being in the library.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Really? The library?”

Harry snorted. “Am I wrong?”

She sighed. “No.” Then she closed her eyes and took a couple deep breaths. “Up.” The broom shot into her hand, and she gave a squeak of surprise. She looked back at Harry, worrying her lip. “I don’t like heights. I mean, I can do the Astronomy Tower, because I know I’m not going to fall, but as soon as I’m not on stable footing…”

“No one said you had to be good at everything,” he reminded her. “We’re not even getting a grade for this class.”

Finally, everyone had their brooms in hand. Madam Hooch talked them through mounting the boom and holding on properly so one wouldn’t fall off. Then they practiced. Madam Hooch stopped to tell Malfoy he was doing it wrong, despite his protest that he’d been doing it his way for years. Harry grinned, trying to keep from laughing out loud. 

“Now,” Madam Hooch said as she moved on to the next part of the lesson. “When I blow my whistle, I want you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady and rise only a few feet in the air. Hover there for a few moments, the lean forward slightly to come back down.” She looked around. “Are those instructions clear?” She gave Harry a pointed look, and he nodded alongside his classmates. 

She gave them one last sharp look. “Ready, three, two—”

Neville all but leapt into the air, and his broom shot upward, far higher in a matter of moments than the few feet Madam Hooch had said. She scolded him, and Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like Neville was in control of his ascent. That much was painfully obvious from his pale face and terrified scream. 

Then Neville was falling. Harry’s first instinct was to summon his magic, but he stopped himself. He shouldn’t be using that half of his magic. Besides, Madam Hooch should be able to—

WHAM! Neville hit the ground with a sharp crack. Madam Hooch swept over to him, helping the now weeping boy sit up. Harry knew broken wrists when he saw them (having been the cause of a few since arriving at Camp), and both of Neville’s appeared to be. It was a miracle it wasn’t worse. He’d fallen nearly thirty feet, with nothing to cushion his landing. 

Harry scowled at their teacher. Surely this hadn’t been the first time someone had lost control or fallen during class. Why hadn’t she been prepared? Or better yet, why weren’t there safeguards in place? At Camp, even the lava wall, while dangerous, wasn’t real lava. It might still cause burns, but it wasn’t deadly. And a school for magic, teaching eleven-year-olds to fly didn’t have some kind of safety protocols in place? He thought Hogwarts would be less dangerous than Camp Half-Blood.

Madam Hooch gathered Neville up. “None of you will move while I take this boy to the hospital wing,” she ordered. “If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch’.” She hurried inside.

Once they were out of sight, Malfoy burst out laughing. “Did you see his face?” He tossed something in the air, the object Neville had received that morning. “Maybe if he’d given this a squeeze, he’d have remembered to fall on his fat ass.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the Slytherin’s pettiness. “Give it here, Malfoy.”

Malfoy smirked, tossing the orb up and catching it again. “What was that, Potter?”

Harry took a step toward him, letting his Ares side bleed through as he glared at him. “I said, give it here.”

He watched at the cocky smirk nearly slipped from Malfoy’s face, as a bit of fear flashed behind his eyes. Malfoy tried to hold onto his arrogant swagger, even as he gulped. “No.” He took a step back. He covered what Harry knew was retreat, with a twirl of his broom. “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find.” And he took off from the ground, circling the rest of the class. “How about on the roof?”

He flew effortlessly into the air, pulling around to look back at them. So, he hadn’t been playing up his flying skills. “What’s the matter, Potter, bit beyond your reach?”

Oh, Harry did love a challenge. Hermione protested, but Harry shook her off. He mounted his broom and kicked off, soaring into the air. Flying straight up was new, the way the air current flowed around him. The movement of his broom was smooth, without the excess movement of the winged horse needing to flap on occasion. Was this what Percy felt when he sank beneath the water’s surface? Like the rest of the world fell away?

Harry opened his eyes and realized just how high he’d flown, nearly level with his dormitory  in Gryffindor tower. He angled his broom down toward Malfoy and shot toward him. As he neared, he pulled up, sliding to a halt even as Malfoy rolled out of the way. 

He stared at the Slytherin, resisting the urge to pull one of his blades. He might not be a proper Ares kid, but certain instincts were learned or picked up being around his adoptive siblings, and certain habits (like using a blade to punctuate a threat). “I said, give it back.”

All the confidence Malfoy had on the ground melted away. He tried to sound not terrified as he said, “Have it your way, then.” And he threw the orb in an arch away from them. 

As it tumbled toward the ground, Harry shot after it, pushing into a dive. As he grasped the glass object, he pulled out the dive, mere feet from crashing into the dirt. He urged his broom back into the air, angling around to stare at Malfoy as he tossed the ball in the air and caught it again. He flew back to the class, twisting his legs off the broom like he did Brimstone, just before his feet hit the ground. 

The Gryffindor’s surrounded him, chattering in excitement (or trying to lecture him, like Hermione) at his incredible skill. Ron was annoyed that Harry had been holding out on his skill, seemingly convinced that Harry must know all about Quidditch and whatnot. 

“HARRY POTTER!”

Harry turned to see a furious Professor McGonagall storming toward them. The fact that he’d made it nearly two weeks without getting in trouble was an achievement. He just hoped whatever letter got sent home, Chiron wouldn’t be too angry with him. 

Chapter Text

Harry walked into lunch feeling… a lot. He was insanely smug that Malfoy’s attempt at getting him in trouble or even thrown out of school had backfired so spectacularly. Malfoy had been whining and complaining rather often about first years not being allowed brooms, about not being allowed to try out for the Quidditch team. And Harry had basically been drafted onto Gryffindor’s.

He was also nervous about the idea of playing a game he’d never really heard of, let alone witnessed or ever played. And excited about being on a broom with some regularity. And anxious that Professor McGonagall said she was going to write a letter to his family. 

He sat down with the other Gryffindors, scooping food onto his plate. Ron and Hermione (independently) joined him, demanding answers. Before he could say anything, the Weasley Twins dropped down on either side of their brother. 

“Well done, Harry,” one said.

“Wood’s just told us,” the other continued. 

Ron scowled at them. “What are you two on about?” 

The Twins grinned at Harry. “You didn’t tell him?”

Harry gave a smirk and a shrug. “It’s a secret, isn’t it?”

“Not like Wood expected you to keep it quiet from your friends.”

The other twin wrapped his arm around Ron’s shoulder. “This, little brother, it the youngest house Quidditch player in a century and Gryffindor’s new seeker.”

Ron stared at Harry with his jaw dropped. 

Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. “You should have gotten into trouble. You broke the rules.”

Harry lifted his cup to drink from it. “McGonagall thought so too. I have a week of detention with her, scheduled around my training next week. And she’s writing home.”

The Twins stood. “We have to go. Lee Jordan reckons he found a new secret passage out of the school.”

Harry perked up at that information. If there was a way that maybe he could see his friends… But then they were an ocean away. Still… sneaking out of the school. He could explore the area so much more. Wait, priorities. He still had so much of the school and grounds to explore. Then the lake and the forest. Prioritise the rules he was going to break.

“Bet it’s the one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy we found our first week.” And they walked off. 

Harry filed that information away from later. Then he nearly groaned. Malfoy and his goons were walking up to them on his side of the table. 

“Having a last meal, Potter?” Malfoy sneered. Returned was the confidence he normal flaunted. “When is your train back to the Muggles?”

“Around Christmas, I imagine,” Harry replied, not bothering to face him. “You’re a lot braver now that you’ve got your little friends backing you up. Then again, if any of you were brave, you wouldn’t be Slytherins, now would you?”

Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles, but they all knew with the teachers currently sitting at the head of the hall, there wasn’t much the pair could do. Malfoy’s expression soured. “I could take you on my own.”

Harry chuckled, lifting his cup. “I seriously doubt that.” He took a long drag from of his apple juice. 

Malfoy sneered. “Tonight. Wizard’s duel. Wands only— no contact.”

Harry turned his head to stare at him for a long moment. 

“Haven’t heard of a wizard’s duel? Not surprising, growing up with Muggles.”

“Of course he has,” Ron said, coming to his aid, albeit unrequested and unneeded. “I’m his second, who’s yours?”

Malfoy glanced at his muscle. “Crabbe. So, midnight tonight. The trophy room’s always unlocked.”

“Wizard’s duel, midnight,” Ron agreed. 

“Why?” Harry asked. 

The four who grew up in a Wizarding household stared at him. “Why what?” Ron asked.

“Well, I imagine a wizard’s duel isn’t unlike the pistol duels that have long since fallen out of fashion in the Muggle world. There’s probably counting steps and bowing and a trade of bullets, or I guess it’s spells. What’s the point?”

Malfoy scoffed, and the cronies snickered. 

Harry stood and turned to square up to the blond. “If you want a fight, just say so. But don’t hide behind your vibrato of high society. When I get into a fight, I don’t count and bow and wait my turn. My family made sure I didn’t rely solely on my magic.” He took a half-step back and pulled out his knife, flipping it around absently. “I don’t do no contact, and I go for first blood.” He slid his knife away again. “So, midnight, right?”

After Malfoy and company had skulked away, Harry sat back down. Hermione turned to Harry. “You can’t be considering actually going to that?”

“Of course he is,” Ron hissed. “He agreed to it. He can’t back out.”

Harry stared at the red-head. “You agreed on a Wizard’s duel. I changed the terms. Malfoy never actually accepted those terms. So no agreement was struck.”

Ron sputtered, as Hermione smiled at him. Harry scooped a bite of potatoes into his mouth. “It’s not like he was planning to show up, anyways. He didn’t get me in trouble earlier, so he asked us to break curfew? Seems a little convenient.”

That night, after Astronomy class, Harry waited until the rest of his dorm mates were asleep. It was near midnight when he heard Ron slip out of the dormitory, probably to follow through on the duel that wasn’t going to happen. Pride seemed to be his (as Annabeth would say) fatal flaw. Or maybe not pride, exactly, but the desire to be seen, noticed. Harry sighed. Didn’t they all?

He sat up and slipped into the bathroom, drawing the Mist around the door to muffle his voice. He turned on the shower to get his rainbow, tossing a drachma into it. “Clarisse, Camp Half-Blood.”

When she shimmered into view, she was in the Big House, with Gleeson and Chiron beside her. “Seriously?” she said. “You couldn’t even make it two weeks without a letter home?”

Harry bit his lips to keep from smiling. “Sorry, mum.”

Clarisse bristled and flushed. 

Chiron slid forward. “Harry, I’m very disappointed in you. You should know better than to try something so dangerous, especially away from Camp. You could have been seriously injured.”

“And yet, you send us on quests that could kill us,” Harry countered, leaning against the sink. 

“Be that as it may, you are there to learn to use your druidic magic, not to—”

“Be a kid?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Chiron, I get it. I’m a demigod. There’s more to my life than anyone else here. But I don’t have anyone else here. I can’t spar, I can’t fight. I can’t do anything to prepare for the war that’s coming with Kronus. It’s not like anything I learn here I can use. Not if we want to keep me secret.”

“There’s more to it than that.”

He shook his head. “Because there’s some druidic prophecy about me that no one seems to know? Then let me learn what I can. I can fly. Well. Without a drop of training. Let me do this.”

Chiron sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Well, the letter wasn’t asking my permission. It seems they have already decided you will be a Seeker. It bothers me they have so little concern for your guardian’s opinion on the matter.”

Clarisse jumped back in. “That’s what I’ve been saying, Chiron. Either they don’t actually care about their students, or…” She trailed off at Chiron’s glare. Clearly there had been other conversations between the two. 

“Or what?” Harry asked. 

“It’s not important,” Chiron told him. 

Clarisse, however, answered anyways. “Or they somehow are trying to train you to— I don’t know— fall in line. It feels like they’re purposely trying to ostracize those not raised in their world in order to make sure they stay a step behind. So they can control them in some small way.”

“You don’t know that,” Chiron chided. 

“She tell you about my potions teacher?” Harry asked. “Every class so far, he’s singled me out. I almost got a zero on my last potion, because he vanished it for not being good enough. The only reason I didn’t was because I had already pulled my sample to turn in. He treats anyone who isn’t a Slytherin like garbage. He made one of my classmates cry. The way he talks down to Hermione is, frankly, disturbing.”

Chiron sat back in his wheelchair, looking pensive. “Please keep me informed regarding situations like this, Harry. I can’t very well have your back unless I know there is need.” He turned his chair away. “Now, I’m going outside, so these two can get all the sordid details of your rule breaking without my needing to know.”

Harry knew they were alone, because Gleeson beamed. “Start from the beginning.”

So he told them everything, from Malfoy, to flying, to the meeting with Wood and joining the Quidditch team. When he finished and bid them goodnight, he returned to the dormitory. Outside he heard voices, slightly raised like they wanted to be yelling, but they also didn’t want to be caught up after curfew. 

Harry walked down to the common room, finding only Hermione, Ron and Neville there, entrenched in an argument. Well, Hermione and Ron were arguing, while Neville looked half a second from feinting from fright. 

“You don’t use your eyes do you?” Hermione asked. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“I was a bit busy with the three heads!” Ron cried, voice rising to a concerning volume. 

Harry decided to try to calm the situation. “What had three heads?”

Ron rounded on him, flushed with anger. “Where were you?”

“When?”

“The duel?”

Harry snorted. “I told you I wasn’t going.”

Hermione huffed. “You really weren’t? I thought for sure you were just saying that to appease me. I was trying to stop you!”

Harry looked between the trio. “So… three heads?”

“On the third floor,” Ron told him. “The forbidden passage, they’ve got a giant three-headed dog!”

Hermione, ever studious, jumped in. “I believe the proper term is a cerberus. But, Harry, it was standing on a trap door, which means it’s guarding something.”

Harry gave a slow nod. “Right, why don’t we all go to bed, before someone with some kind of authority comes down to check as to why you’re both shouting down here long after midnight about something you shouldn’t have seen.”

Hermione squeaked. “Oh no! We could have gotten expelled!” And she ran off to the girls’ dormitory. 

Ron huffed and rolled his eyes. “She needs to sort out her priorities.” He turned to Harry, like he was going to back him up on his idiocy. “I didn’t ask her to come. But you should have been.”

Harry crossed his arms. “And was Malfoy?”

Ron flushed again, looking away. “No. He must have told Filch, because he showed up looking for us.”

“Called it.” Harry turned back to the dormitory and went to bed. He was only a little jealous he hadn’t gone. Okay really jealous. He wanted to explore the forbidden passage. He’d planned to. And those three just happened upon it. Gods, he was pissed at that. But now, he knew what to expect. A cerberus. It couldn’t possibly be the real Cerberus, though. Hades would be more than a little bit pissed. One thing he knew well, you don’t mess with a man’s dog.

Chapter Text

Harry

The next morning during breakfast, Ron sat down across from Harry, trying to draw him into his plotting vengeance on Malfoy for trying to get them in trouble. Harry, who hadn’t gotten any sleep from his own planning on how to get into the third floor corridor had gotten up extra early since he wasn’t sleeping anyways. He’d done double his normal workout, and now he was actually tired. 

He planned to take a nap before double potions. He didn’t need to be any more on edge in a class that called for precision with a professor that loathed him. He thought about his talk with Chiron last night. 

He hadn’t really thought about telling the centaur about Snape’s less than fair attitude about him. He’d spent most of his life fighting his own battles or being ignored, so when had it done any good? It was still strange to him to have people willing to fight for him.

He was about to leave the Great Hall when the owls with the post started to arrive. He wasn’t expecting anything, not after his call with Camp last night. But one owl landed in front of him, letter in beak. He pulled it free and opened it, finding a letter from Percy. It was short but nothing less than Harry expected from the son of Poseidon. 

Harry,

What the hell! I need more details than what I got from Clarisse. You got in trouble and rewarded for it? Wish I could have gotten that lucky at any of my schools.

Percy

Harry chuckled, tucking the note into his pocket. 

“Who was that from?” Hermione asked. 

Harry took a drink of juice to give him a moment to consider how to respond. He couldn’t really say friend, because he’d get into trouble for a random Muggle knowing how to get in contact, but family could know, right? “My cousin.” It wasn’t entirely wrong. All demigods were vaguely related, right? Weren’t Hecate and Percy technically within the same generation, grandkids of the first generation Titans? 

Uhhg, that got weird. Because then any demigod-demigod romance sounded a bit… incest-y. But were’t the gods too? Zeus and Hera were siblings, and Hades was technically Persephone’s uncle. And Aphrodite— eew, nevermind, her past was weird enough. Yeah, the godly side was just weird and probably didn’t count. 

Six owls carrying one parcel swooped down, dropping it in front of Harry. Another landed on top of it, offering up another letter. Harry tore it open and found a letter from Professor McGonagall telling him not to open the parcel that contained his new broom: a Nimbus Two Thousand. She didn’t want to cause an uproar. 

But what did she expect? People weren’t idiots, well, most of them. Well, there were quite a few, it seemed, at Hogwarts. Still, even idiots would be able to figure out the parcel that looked suspiciously like a broom was probably a broom. If she didn’t want to make a big deal, she should have given it to him privately, and sent him just the note. She could have given it to Wood to give to him at his first practice. 

There was another of those things Clarisse mentioned, that they seemed to be manipulating the situation a bit. But he had his first practice tonight. He couldn’t wait. It would get him through the annoyance of Potions. He picked up his broom and made his way out of the Great Hall. 

Almost to prove his thoughts to him, Malfoy found him. He sneered with a mixture of jealousy and distain. “That’s a broomstick, Potter. First years aren’t allowed them. You’ll be thrown out this time, for sure.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Maybe so, if it wasn’t allowed by Professor McGonagall. You’re free to go tattle, if you want. But I’m going back to my dormitory before potions.”

Evening finally came, and Harry raced out to the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand. He kicked off the ground as soon as he stepped inside the stands. The school broom was thrilling, but this… His broom moved with ease at his barest touch. He flew in circles around the pitch, revelling in the feel of being in the air. 

“POTTER!”

Harry brought his broom around toward the voice, finding Wood standing on the ground at the other end of the pitch. He sped off toward him, pulling up short and hopping off his broom a few feet from him. 

Wood grinned and nodded. “You really are a natural, aren’t you?”

He started with explaining the rules of the game to Harry, introducing the various balls. The way people had been talking about Quidditch, he’d have thought it was some death-defying game, not people flying around avoiding two balls, playing a glorified game of basketball. He’d played more dangerous games at Camp, what with capture the flag (with the rule of no maiming) or the floor is lava (okay, it wasn’t real lava, but it still hurt you if you fell in), to the obstacle course that shot arrows and spit fire. Quidditch seemed rather tame. 

They practiced with golf balls until dark, even though Harry had really wanted to just use the real snitch. It would probably be a better use of his time, but he listened to Wood. 

That night before bed, he wrote a letter to Clarisse, telling her all about his training, and one to Percy, too, telling him everything. The next morning, he sent them off to the international post address they’d been using. 

And at breakfast, he received a letter. That was slightly concerning. There was no way either of his friends would have gotten his letter yet. 

The message was short. 

Harry

Going to be out of contact for a while. Doing something for Chiron. Try not to worry.

Clarisse 

Yeah, that was just perfect. How was he not going to worry for his sister, when he was given no information apart from “try not to worry”. Not don’t worry. Those four little words told him more than anything. She was doing something dangerous (like something to do with Kronos) and couldn’t say anything about it. 

So, yeah, sure. He’d try not to worry. But he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Chapter Text

Harry

Before he knew it, Harry found himself realizing it was almost Halloween. With Quidditch and homework, and his own morning training, he hadn’t had much chance to explore. On top of his normal three practices a week, Harry also gave himself training. He wanted to master his use of a broom. 

He spoke to Madam Hooch, and since he was on the house team, and she had spare time, she gave him special lessons. Whenever he mastered a skill, she wouldn’t say much, but she gave him a proud smirk, before barking out her next command. 

The morning of Halloween, the Gryffindor first years sat in Charms class, learning to levitate objects. Harry had found he needed to wait when others started, because things got a little… unexpected if he tried while everyone else was first starting out. 

There was so much unrestrained magic flying about before his classmates began to hone in the spells. He always sat beside Hermione, because she was the most organized. Her magic flowed easily, and even without practice, she quickly brought the power of new spells under her command. 

Seamus had successfully lit his feather on fire, not once but twice. Neville was near weeping as he practiced again and again (he was really his own worst enemy; no one else had succeeded, yet, either). Ron was screaming the spell, flailing about like he was on fire, not the feather beside him.

Hermione grabbed his wrist. “Stop flinging your wand about. You’re going to take someone’s eye out. You’re saying the spell wrong.” She talked him through the proper pronunciation, all the while Ron scowled at her with a derisive up-turn of his lip.

“You do it then,” Ron snapped. 

So, Hermione did. And Professor Flitwick gushed over her skill. Ron, however, looked pissed off. 

A short while later, Harry had started working and had managed the spell rather easily. About half the class had succeeded by the end of class, although Ron had only made his feather tremble slightly. 

Harry and Hermione walked out of the classroom together. As they rounded a corner, they heard Ron talking to Dean and Seamus. 

“It’s Le-vi-oooo-sa, not Le-vi-o-saaa. She’s a nightmare, honestly.”

As they walked by, Ron was really lucky Harry saw Madam Hooch coming their way, because he would have gotten at least a good punch to his kidneys, instead of the sharp shoulder knock, as they walked by. Of course, if this had been Camp, Harry would have stabbed him, but he was getting better at reining in his aggressive tendencies. 

Seriously, what was Ron’s problem? What had Hermione actually done to him? Been good at school? Tried to help him with his spell? 

“Just ignore him,” Harry muttered to Hermione.

They parted ways after that. Harry had his private flying class before lunch, which he ate in the kitchens, talking to the house elves. While the rest of his classmates were in their own flying class, he went to the library to work on his homework. He was supposed to got to Defense Against the Dark Arts after, but he couldn’t deal with the stuttering.

So, he went to the hospital wing and feigned a headache. It was almost not worth skipping class when Madam Pomfrey kept him through the rest of classes right up until dinner. Hermione was going to lecture him, but hopefully she’d give him the notes. He’d have to check with Professor Quirrell the next day to see what homework he missed. 

He finally sat down at the table for the Halloween feast. Camp’s celebration was… special. They had kids from all sorts of backgrounds, both current and former, so it had become a melding of dozens of Halloween adjacent holidays. They had sweets and costumes for the typical American version, candy skulls and various things from the hispanic campers for Día de los Muertos, things that leaned more toward the pagan like Samhain. Ultimately, the campers who descended from any kind of death deity had played a part in building the camp traditions. Hogwarts was… boring in comparison. 

Harry looked around for Hermione, finding her absent. He asked around the other Gryffindors. Neville leaned over to him. “I heard Parvati tell Lavender she was in the first-floor bathroom all afternoon, crying.”

Ron scoffed. “Probably realized she hasn’t got any friends.”

Harry glared, flipping around the knife he’d been preparing to use on his dinner. He stabbed out, pinning the sleeve of Ron’s robe to the table as he reached for the potatoes. 

“What the hell, Harry!” he cried. 

But any further conversation was cut off by Quirrell sprinting into the hall, looking frazzled and utterly terrified. “Troll! In the dungeon!” He gasped for a moment. “Thought you ought to know.” Then he collapsed in a dead feint. 

Everyone besides Harry began to scream and cause a general uproar. It took him a moment to remember he wasn’t at Camp. A random creature showing up for them to fight wasn’t meant to happen here. 

“SILENCE!” Dumbledore bellowed, and everyone stilled and quieted. “Will everyone, please, not panic. Prefects, escort your houses to your dormitories. Teachers, follow me to the dungeons.”

Harry started to follow, until he got out into the hall. Then he took off toward the first-floor bathrooms. Hermione had no idea there was danger, and while she was a gifted student, she wasn’t great at thinking on her feet. She tended to over-analyze to the point of freezing.

As he rounded a corner, someone grabbed his arm and pulled him behind a statue. Ron. Great. He didn’t need a petty brat following him around. 

“It’s Snape,” Ron hissed, peaking down the corridor. “He’s headed to the third floor.”

Harry shook off Ron’s grasp. “Well, I’m not.” 

Ron grabbed him again. “We’re supposed to be going to the common room. The teachers are handling the troll.”

Harry swung around and used his forearm to pin Ron to the wall by the throat. “I’m not going after some fucking troll. My best friend in this castle doesn’t know about it. I’m going to find her. Not that you’d care about her, since you treat her like shit. Now, you can fuck right off.”

Ron winced, trying to push at his arm. “I was just coming to help you.”

Harry gave a derisive laugh. Right, sure he was. He pushed away from Ron and marched down the corridor. 

Until he heard a scream.

He took off down the hall, finding the door to the girl’s bathroom hanging off its hinges. He burst inside and everything sharpened. He was in battle mode, taking everything in. The troll was easily twelve feet tall, with a long club that dragged on the floor. It stared down Hermione who was cowering against the other wall, white as a ghost. 

His gaze flitted around the room, finding sinks broken, stall shattered, and nothing one might use as a weapon. He had his sword and knife, and both his magics. Hecate’s magic was out, and he didn’t know any spells in druidic magic that might help him. As far as his blades, they would cause questions. 

He had a simple plan that definitely wouldn’t work, involving knocking the troll out with his own club and a levitation spell. Then he smirked. That didn’t mean anyone needed to know it wouldn’t work. He lifted both hands and gathered the Mist around them. With a snap of his fingers, he felt it settle around them. Ron turned glassy-eyed, staggering into the corner with a grin on his face. Hermione blinked up at the troll, still trembling. Yeah, fear made the Mist finicky. He pushed more at her, and she, too, got lost in the Mist. 

Harry gave a shrill whistle and pulled both his blades. He breathed in, ignoring the smell as he let his well-trained instincts kick in. He charged at the troll, sliding behind it as it lumbered around, slashing across the back of its legs with his sword. 

It lifted its club and swung at him. He lunged to the side, rolling to his feet. He slipped around behind it as it lifted its club again. As it gave a massive, over-headed swing, Harry rode the club up and dropped onto the beast’s shoulders. 

It had a spine like a human, which meant probably a nervous system of a vaguely similar structure. In theory, severing the spinal cord in the neck would paralyze or even kill it. He found a divot between the vertebrate and plunged his blade into flesh.

The troll’s arms dropped, limply, to its sides, club clattering to the floor. It slumped to its knees, and Harry leapt down before it crashed to the floor. It gave a shuddering breath and fell still. 

Harry felt a shift and looked up. The Mist shimmered, and he waved his hand, pushing it aside. A man stood over the troll, cloaked in black with massive black wings that spread wide. His piercing gaze was backward with everything awash in black, except the pupil that blazed white. Those eyes narrowed as the winged man towered a little taller. 

“It’s not yet time we meet, boy.” And he waved his hand.

Harry blinked, picking himself off the floor. He found his wand sticking out of the troll’s nose. Ron grinned, triumphantly, his wand still raised. Hermione stumbled over to them. “Is it dead?”

Harry bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll’s nostril. The creature didn’t move. “I think it might be.”

From the hall, they heard hurried footsteps, and then a trio of adults barreled in. Professor McGonagall pulled up short with a gasp, Snape and Quirrell right behind her. She was furious.

“Why aren’t you three in Gryffindor Tower?”

Hermione spoke before Harry could. “I wasn’t at the feast. I was feeling terribly homesick.”

Harry jumped in. “I heard Lavender and Parvati say she was here before shit hit the fan.” He ignored the reproachful scowl he got for his language. “I didn’t want Hermione to get left behind. The troll was already here when I found her.”

Ron jumped in too. “Yeah, so Harry distracted it, while I levitated its club and dropped it on its head. Just learned that spell today.”

McGonagall stared at them for a long moment. “Very well, you three may go. I should award ten points to Gryffindor for your desire to help your friend, but I’ll make it five, because you should have informed one of the staff instead of going yourselves. The feast has been taken to the Gryffindor common room. Off you go.”

As they made their way back to the dormitories, Ron gushed over his skills, and Hermione congratulated him on the successful spell. Harry followed behind them, rubbing at his forehead. He felt like he was missing something, like there were something he forgot. Fighting the troll had been too easy, even if they were as stupid as people said. Dropping a club on its head shouldn’t have been enough to kill it. 

It wasn’t until later, after Ron had entertained the entire house with the tale of their adventure, that Harry slipped up to his bed. He pulled out his weapons as he changed his clothes, setting them on his mattress. Then he stopped. He cleaned them meticulously, every morning. So why was there something smudged on the handle of his knife.

He pulled the blade from the sheath and found the metal covered in sticky, partially dried blood. He’d missed something. Something had happened, and he couldn’t remember it. But what?

Chapter Text

Thanatos

My existence has always been a lonely one. I’ve always been connected to those dying, even before I took the position of the God of Peaceful Death. Before I claimed the powers that title gave me, I would walk the mortal world, being drawn to those on the threshold, and I helped them cross over. 

And that was before the Olympians, before even the Titans ruled. That was before the first humans were created, when the only sentient creatures were the beast of the fields and the air and the sea. And once those that could think and speak were brought to the world, I helped them as well. Not that many of them saw what I do as helping. 

Across every empire, there are tales of me. To some I’m a hateful villain, others a merciful being. But I’m neither. I’m simply a necessity of life. Everything that lives, dies. Even Titans. Even Gods. Their deaths might be a bit different than those the mortals die, but still, everyone knows everybody dies. All things must end. Even me. 

One day. And the Fates see fit to drag out my lonely life and will likely do so until every star goes out. They probably want me to help even them cross over the threshold. And at the end, will there be anyone to help me, or will I be left to find my way, alone? There’s a part of me that hopes one day the Greco-Roman dynasty will fall to another, with their own pantheon of gods, so that I can pass my burden to another. 

But it won’t happen. That would mean Zeus and his court would have to give up their positions of power, let themselves fade away like Pan. Oh, but then, we haven’t reached that part of the story yet, have we? But we all know it’s coming. You’ve all read the Oracle’s books, those that Percy Jackson and others have written of our world and the druid one.

Like Cassandra, to know the future, to know the horror and deaths that are to come, the battles and the carnage, and me… waiting. I haven’t read them. We are forbidden from it, by a rule far older than Zeus. And very few of the Gods and Titans and other beings of power even could, only those slightly outside, like myself and those that can brush the world between life and death, like the Fates who spin the threads of the world, like the Oracles who can see the paths laid out like a map, but not Apollo.

He was quite annoyed when he first glimpsed them on the shelf in the realm of prophecy. He spent nearly a century trying to force his way in, desperate to know what trials he is foretold to undertake. He was so distracted, he didn’t see, or more likely, didn’t care enough to remember, other epic sagas shelved alongside the one that bares his name. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been shocked with the names Troy, Gilgamesh, Circe, Arthur, Merlin, Ithaca, with Percy Jackson and Harry Potter among them. He would have known to be wary of the Son of the Sea God, if he had his own saga to bare his name. Percy Jackson and the Olympians could have so many connotations. 

I admit, I found myself concerned, when I saw the sheer number of upcoming assignments I have on my list. No dates or names have been revealed, but I can see the locations. Camp Half-Blood. Manhattan. So much bloodshed. It’s a good thing I liked Ares before he turned into the war-mongering god he is now. I don’t know if I could become friendly with someone who over-complicates my job so often. 

But I’ve strayed. You don’t care, do you? Not about the distant past. You’re more curious of more recent events. Namely, one Harry Potter and his incident with the troll and what I took from him. 

But for that, you need a bit more history. You need to know more about me. You see, I lead a lonely existence, but sometimes, very occasionally, I… dabble, like the other gods. It happens every few centuries or so, very rarely, because, sometimes, I… I forget why it’s such a bad idea. My solitude becomes suffocating, and I let others close. And then I let someone very close. Too close. And one thing leads to another…

But it always ends the same. It always ends with me, standing over my children as they breathe their last and taking them to the Underworld. 

I’m called the God of Peaceful Death. All death is peaceful. Souls slip free of the body without pain. Dying is what’s hell. Phobos, Deimos, Eris, Morbus… they thrive in those moments, right before a soul enters my protection. Even my children cannot escape it. So many of them have died screaming, and the hatred in their eyes when they see me again… Like I could have protected them. I cannot keep people from dying. I simply allow them to cross over.

My last sons… recent enough that I haven’t yet forgotten. I had made it longer this time, not since before the fall of Rome. But there was this woman… She didn’t fear me. And in that time, everyone was afraid of me, I had embraced my friendship to Ares… Mars. I was still far closer to what I became among the Romans. They preferred me that way, the figure of Death akin to your Grim Reaper.

I spent five years returning to her. She knew who and what I was. I would still go about my work, but a part of me stayed with her, living life with her. She knew she could never have all of me, that I would sometime fade to nothing more than a spectre. But still she loved me. We had three children together, three strong boys. 

Just after the third boy was born, Ares… Mars… I don’t remember how he was styling himself then, showed up and dragged me off to help him with some battle in a place called Bouvines. I’m not even certain how to say it. I spent most of it simply carrying souls across the threshold of life and death.

And when everything was over, when the battle had been won and those who survived returned whence they came, I prepared to return as well. But the weight of the lives I had ended was too much. I couldn’t bring myself to return to the family I left behind. I couldn’t bring myself to sully them with all that I was and am and always will be.

And then they came to me. Not as ones always do, shrouded in the pain of dying. No, they were like their mother, druids with skills in the magics of their ancestors. Their mother had finally told them who I was, and they had spent years seeking me out. 

They saw the others of their kind, powerful demigod children of the great Olympians, and they wanted that glory. My children always do. The powers they are born with aren’t obvious like those born to others. They always want to show that they’re more than seeing shadows and breathing freedom to the dying. And these three boys already were. They were druids as well, but they were so easily cast aside.

Because druids weren’t gifted by the gods. Because among the druids, they were born to a mother of a well respected family, they were scorned for being bastards of men who left in the morning. Because she had never told anyone their father was a god. Who would have believed her anyway?

But my sons had decided to find me. And when they did, they demanded an inheritance. 

I’m sure you’ve heard a different version of the tale. I’ve seen the book of fairytales the druids read their children. Two of them came to the druidic world of their mother and said they tricked me. And I let them. I let them have their moment to shine. They were demigods who desired acclaim. But they never told anyone who I was to them. They had chosen to keep their lives separate. Perhaps if they had, their fates would have been different. 

One demanded a powerful wand that none would be able to defeat. He never saw Eris speaking into the hearts of others. He forgot, in his quest for power, that a blade is just as deadly. When I came for him, he no longer possessed the wand I gave him. He lay bathed in his own blood, his throat slashed open. I carried him over, and he screamed at me. He demanded I return him to the world of the living, that I was a terrible father for ending his life. And I took it, like I always do. Because I am not the one who cut his throat. I am the one who keeps souls from wandering the earth endlessly. 

Sometimes souls escape my grasp, when I am tired and don’t feel like playing hide and seek with a soul who is frightened of me. Most of the time, I find them within a decade, and they allow me to take them on. But sometimes, the ghosts find a place to inhabit or haunt. There are so few, it’s never worth the headache. If they become vengeful, there are hunters out there who will eventually deal with them. They had their chance to be helped across. When hunters do it, they cross over screaming. Not my problem at that point.

But I found the man who murdered my son, with Nemesis, Eris, and Pleonexia by my side. I didn’t invite them, but they always seem to know when they’re going to have a chance to play. While I cursed the wand that cause my son’s demise, the three goddesses with me set about whispering to those who might do the same as that man had done. Bloodshed would follow the Elder Wand until the Fates willed its legacy to end.

My second son lost his lover to a slow and painful path that led to me, for which he blamed me. He demanded a way to see her again. But I cannot return the dead to life. I had delivered her to her final rest, and she had been one of those happy to see me, to be free of pain for the first time in years. I gifted him a stone that would allow him to make peace with her passing, so he could properly say good-bye. I warned him of the harm it would cause if he held it too long. 

But he chose not to heed my warning. He called her to him. At first, she was happy to see him. She told him she was free of pain. In using the stone to bring her back, he tore at her day by day, the pain of her life seeping back in. He didn’t see Deimos and the Algea lurking. I laid him to rest beside his beloved and brought them together in the realm beyond. 

The last knew his brothers had already made a distasteful name for the family, so he asked for a way to protect himself and his son. So I gave him a cloak more powerful than any other, to shroud him even from the gods, unless they sought him out, specifically. And he used it all his life to protect his family. When the families of those his brother killed came baying for blood, they remained hidden. And when monsters found him, they never saw his blade before he dispatched them into dust. And when he was old, he saw me waiting. And no one else hid nearby, as I helped him cross over. 

I swore then, like I had before, never to father children. Because I may be the god of death, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the heartbreak. While they live, I can watch from a distance, but once they are delivered to me, I must pass them on. And like those left behind in the land of the living, I can never see them again. 

It wasn’t until a decade after the last of my sons passed that I heard the Fates chittering. They knew I was well within earshot; it wasn’t like they were trying to hide it. In creating the three gifts I bestowed upon my sons, I had sealed my own fate as well. One day, someone would unite the three together, breaking the curse of bloodshed and becoming Master of Death. My master. And like they so love doing, they refused to give me any further details. 

So, I’ve tracked them over the years, ensuring they never come into the possession of the same person. It was a near thing in the fifteenth century. All three were within the same household for some kind of celebration. And Pleonexia was lurking. I forced her to turn her gaze to one of the servants. She had him kill his master and steal the Elder Wand, fleeing into the night. She hated me for a few decades, but she assumed I simply wanted to continue the bloody legacy of the wand I cannot reclaim.

But what does that have to do with the matter at hand? How does that pertain to Harry Potter killing a troll, as a demigod slays a monster?

I was Roman when I fathered those three sons. And while those in this story that’s unfolding before us may not know of their Roman counterparts, those of you who have read the Oracles know what is to come. Probably. I’ve heard Delphi whispering beyond the reaches of her pythia. She’s preparing a new prophecy, one far greater than the one Percy Jackson may fulfill. I heard her whispering of Greek and Roman, but she falls eerily silent when she notices me. Once that might have worried me, but there’s no avoiding what she sees coming. So, what’s the point in trying?

I’ve wandered again. Sorry. I so rarely have someone to talk to. Besides Ares, but he has the attention span of a walnut. Unless there’s war afoot. 

That being said, I was Roman. And the Romans respect the descendants as well as the first generation demigods. They honor legacies. But it’s best Harry Potter not know of me and our distant connection. At least not yet. He’ll likely figure it out, especially if he ever tells that friend of his that he’s more than a druid. She would undoubtedly get lost in research. And discover the truth.

Because Harry Potter is a legacy of Death. But there’s another. And there’s war pulsing beneath the surface of the druid world. That’s why Ares and his children were so drawn to the boy, and he to them. War and bloodshed have surrounded him since he drew breath. His fate is drenched in blood and battle. 

Because war is coming, simmering like a pot over the fire. And the world holds its breath as it waits for everything to come to a boil, with the vain hope they can keep it from spilling over. 

But they can’t. Because I have two legacies clinging to the land of the living. And I cannot choose, because in the coming war, they will be leading the opposing sides. 

Chapter Text

Harry

A couple weeks later, Harry was preparing for his debut as Gryffindor’s new Seeker. Word had gotten out, and everyone had something to say about it. After dinner the Thursday before the match, Harry was wandering the halls, exploring, before he needed to head to Astronomy. 

He heard soft voices ahead, Snape and Filch. He drew the Mist around himself, to keep them from seeing him, and crept closer. Snape’s office door was open slightly, and Harry caught a glimpse of him sitting in front of his desk. He held his robes high above his knee, and Harry could see wounds seeping blood. It looked infected. Filch handed him bandages. Why didn’t he just go to the Hospital Wing?

“How are you supposed to keep your eye on three heads at once?”

Harry froze. Had Snape been trying to get passed the three-headed dog? Harry still hadn’t had a chance to explore the third-floor corridor. He’d been busy, and when he hadn’t been, he encountered someone of authority a bit too close to his destination than he was comfortable with. This weekend, he was going to see this cerberus. 

You know, around Quidditch, homework, and everything else he needed to do. 

Saturday dawned, and Harry began his morning with his run. It wasn’t anything exhaustive, because he had his first ever Quidditch match. He ate his breakfast in a daze, wishing his friends were there to cheer him on. He’d come to miss some of the fatalistic humor demigods just picked up. He gave people smiles and nods as they offered him encouragement and wished him luck. 

Finally, it was time to head to the pitch. Harry got changed into his uniform. Hermione had Iphigenia with her, because his familiar had tried to come with him but then he’d have to leave her in the locker room, and there was a part of him that knew she wanted to watch him play. 

He followed the rest of his team out onto the field encircled by the stands. The nerves that had been simmering in his gut all morning fell quiet. This might not be battle, but it was close enough that his senses sharpened. He mounted his broom and shot into the sky with the other thirteen players and Madam Hooch. 

As the game began, Harry could only stare for a few minutes. It was one thing to watch everyone play in practice, but the brutality of a proper game was…incredible. He had to dodge a bludger a couple times, but that was easy after fighting at Camp. Clarisse would love watching this.

His mind wandered for a moment. Clarisse. He hadn’t heard from her in about two months. Annabeth and Chiron were both rather silent on everything. They wouldn’t give him details on exactly what she was doing, but maybe they didn’t want to risk the information being intercepted. 

Then he saw it. A flash of gold. Harry sank into a dive, falling into line with the Slytherin seeker until—

WHAM!

Harry rolled sideways as someone, the Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint, slammed into him. As he flew up and away, he moved his shoulder in a circle. He’d have a bruise in the morning. Gryffindor got a free shot for the foul, and Alicia made it easily. 

So, Harry went back searching for the Snitch again. Harry still heard spectators shouting at Flint, but that was the game. Of course, Harry was used to capture the flag with rules consisting of “No maiming or killing” verses Quidditch with an insane number of rules and ways to foul a player. Then again, they were flying in the air, so they had to ensure no one died by falling. 

One of the Slytherin Beaters sent a bludger his direction, and he dodged it with ease. Then his broom jerked to the side, almost putting him back in the path of the ball. Then it bucked upward. It did it again, and again, taking him higher and higher. Then it shot off doing sharp zigzags, but Harry held tight to the handle of his broom. 

Then it rolled. Harry clung on as it twisted in circles. He heard shouts from below. His broom shot forward, then jerked to a stop. Harry went headfirst over the front, but still managed to cling to the handle. 

He wasn’t going to let go. He was used to this sort of thing, even if it clearly wasn’t normal for a game like Quidditch. The Weasley Twins tried to help him onto one of their brooms but his kept lifting higher and higher, keeping him just out of their reach. So they dropped below him to catch him if he were to fall. It would take a while, if he did. He was still trying to swing back onto his broom. 

And of course, he caught a glimpse of the Snitch near the ground.

Then everything settled. His broom stopped trying to throw him off. Harry swung his legs up and over his broom, like he did on the obstacle course at Camp, pushing himself over the bar (or in this case broom) with locked arms. He threw his leg over the handle and took off in a steep dive, blowing past the Twins as they cried out after him. 

Lower and lower he flew, keeping ahead of the Slytherin Seeker who had noticed him diving for the Snitch. He slammed his shoulder into Harry’s bruised one, glaring at him. And then—

Harry swerved as he choked. He pulled out of the dive just in time to escape crashing into the ground and tumbled into the grass. He coughed, and the Snitch fell into his hand. He sat up on his knees, lifting the small, winged ball in the air with a whoop. And the Gryffindor stands went mad. 

After the match, Harry sat in the locker room, long after the others left. He knew his house mates would have a party planned in the common room, but he didn’t really want to go. He wanted to tell Clarisse about the game, about how it really felt to play against others, about how he caught the Snitch, about his near fall. He missed his friends. He sank down into the shower, clothes still on, and called out to Iris.

“Collect to Nyssa or Annabeth or Percy or Thalia, please,” he whispered. 

The image blurred and slid into focus. The forge at Camp. Nyssa stepped into view, smiling at him, but it quickly fell.

“Harry? Are you alright?”

She looked like she always did when she worked. Hair pulled back with a bandana, arms glistening with sweat, face smeared with soot. She used a rag to mop at her brow, and she pulled off her gloves as she sat down at the drawing table. 

He hugged his legs closer to his chest, sitting his chin on his knees. “I miss home.”

She gave him a sad smile. “We miss you, too. How are things there?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Had my first Quidditch match. We won.”

She gave him an understanding look that was painfully soft. “And you want to tell Clarisse about it.”

He nodded. “I… I  know she’s doing something important, but that doesn’t mean…”

“That you don’t worry,” she finished for him. “Hey, think about it this way, though, in a few weeks it’ll be your winter holidays. You’re still coming home, right?”

Harry gave her a real smile, even if it felt a bit forced. Because she was right. In just over a month, he’d be back at Camp, and hopefully, Clarisse would be back from wherever she was. 

Chapter Text

Clarisse

Clarisse didn’t know how long it had been since she began her mission. It had been halfway through September when she started. She was just glad she had gotten a chance to talk to Harry before she left. 

Not that she’d been able to tell him anything about the trip she would soon be taking. When they’d spoken, she hadn’t known she’d be leaving that very evening. Gods, she missed him. She hoped he was staying out of trouble. But as much as she missed him, she was glad he wasn’t at Camp when all this had started. 

She had kept him from the quest to the Sea of Monsters, because of a prophecy. He’d been too young, too inexperienced, too precious to her. Thankfully, he had listened then. But this… she had no a prophecy sending her into the labyrinth, only the dedication to Camp, to those within its borders, to Annabeth and Chiron. There would have been no proper way to dissuade Harry from following her into this… this hell. 

Gods, she didn’t know how much time had passed, or how many times she’d had this internal conversation with herself. Had anyone else in the Ares cabin tried to come with her, she would have taken them (not that they knew about it). They all heard she was doing something for Chiron and let her go. 

Harry wouldn’t have. He would have demanded answers. He would have pressured her into taking him. There was a part of her that wished he was with her. Some of the madness swirling around her might feel less cloying with someone by her side, with her little brother with her. He would keep her grounded. 

Now, it was only her worry for him, that he would come home next summer and have nowhere to go, that kept her moving. She didn’t know what would happen to him if something happened to Camp. Would he find somewhere to go, or would those assholes from his world send him back to the motherfuckers they’d dropped him with last time?

The ground beneath her feet tilted downward, and she slipped. Then it dropped away, and she fell for a moment, then crashed into the ground. She hated this place. But they needed information. About the labyrinth itself, about Kronos’s plans for it, about what might be found within it. 

She didn’t know how long she’d been trapped in these winding paths, lost in the darkness. She raked her flashlight’s beam over the walls, finding herself in a bit of a pit. Great. She found some roots and used them to clamber out. Then she moved on. 

Not for the first time, her fingers itched to make a map, but it wouldn’t matter anyways. It had taken her… she didn’t know how long to realize the paths moved and shifted like a creature. She had started with her map, then had questioned her skills when she tried to backtrack to a major fork and couldn’t find it. It wasn’t until she’d passed through a doorway and had the earth swallow it up behind her that she realized she wasn’t the problem. 

She was fine. She didn’t need a map. She just needed answers. She heard a whisper, and she spun toward it, finding nothing. She pressed on. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she was longing for those early… moments, when she only had her own thoughts and darkness to contend with. Now she was dealing with monsters with some kind of regularity. Hourly? Daily? Weekly? She had no idea. There was no way to tell the passage of time. Even her watch didn’t work. Sometimes it said minutes had passed, others months. She didn’t trust it. 

She’d found a place that offered a brief reprieve from the fighting. But she didn’t want to sleep. She was on edge, waiting for the next attack. And it was cold, bone chilling and biting. She didn’t trust herself to wake up if she tried to sleep. So she pulled out a small piece of ambrosia and ate it. Was it cold because the labyrinth had taken her to some snow-capped, mountainous peak? Or to fucking Siberia? Or was it simply winter now? 

She’d stumbled upon a few paths out of the labyrinth in her time exploring, but had no way of knowing if she would find anything outside it, or if she would find the path back inside. One had been on a mountaintop, with icy winds biting into her ill-prepared skin. Another had been a rolling grassland in Africa (she’d seen the giraffes and zebras). Still another (when she’d been far more cautious) had nearly dumped her into a roiling volcano. 

She worried the next one might be in the crushing depths of the sea, where she would drown or be squashed or eaten. She wasn’t Percy Jackson. 

The Son of Poseidon was annoying, but he was good for Harry, and he wasn’t that bad. Not that she’d admit that to anyone. After last… After he’d helped her with her brothers and the chariot. That had only been a few days before she’d started this. It had seemed so long ago. How long had she been down here? It could be years for all she knew. Had they given her up for dead?

The whispers started again. Whatever it was followed her. Not close enough for her to figure out who or what it was, but enough to unnerve her. She set off again, hoping to get enough distance between her and that thing to find a place to sleep. 

Time passed. How much? She didn’t know. And she’d begun to stop caring. She was alive. She was fighting. And when she managed to find sleep, she still dreamed of Kronos trying to get her to change sides. So he hadn’t won, yet. That was the important thing. Not enough time had passed that she had failed to help prevent his rise to power. There would still be some kind of world for her to return to. 

Then the screaming started. 

She was exhausted. Whatever had been whispering to her had turned to shrieks and claws. She didn’t know how long she’d been running from it. She needed to find a way out. She didn’t care where it landed her. If she didn’t rest, she’d go mad. More times than she’d like to admit, she debated stabbing her eardrums just to get a reprieve from the voices. 

She stumbled over roots and forced her way through. Then everything went quiet. That wasn’t good. It— whatever it was— would give her these breaks, lull her into a false sense of security, let her get to the cusp of sleep, and then start again. 

Gods, she was glad Harry wasn’t here. 

The screaming started again, and she nearly wept in frustration. She needed to escape. She pushed further through the twisted roots and vines in the passage. She needed to get away from the thing. She dropped her flashlight, but didn’t stop to pick it up.

She tumbled free, into another passage, and she ran. It was quiet again, but the shrieks rang in her ears. She was exhausted, and cold, and tired. The cold seeped into her. She sat down and curled up, tugging her jacket around her. 

She didn’t know how long she’d been in the labyrinth, how long she’d been haunted by the thing, but it was quiet, and she was tired. She lay her head against the wall beside her and let herself sleep. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry woke late the day after his first Quidditch match. He’d tossed and turned until near dawn. And when he finally found sleep, his dreams were plagued with the icy, inky tendrils of Kronos. His empty promises and veiled threats twisted his dreams into nightmare. 

When his watch alarm woke him, he turned it off, and for the first time since he entered Camp Half-Blood, he rolled over and went back to sleep. 

When he finally dragged himself out of bed around noon, he trudged down to the Great Hall for lunch. No one seemed to notice his melancholy, as they continued to offer their congratulations and praise of yesterday’s match. 

He walked down to the boathouse and sat down on one of the docks, dangling his feet in the water. It was freezing, but he wanted— needed— the feeling of familiarity. 

“You alright?”

Harry looked around and found another boy standing on the dock beside his, staring at him. He was tall and gangly, likely going through a growth spirt. His features were all a little disproportionate, but Harry had seen that a lot in young teens. Harry opened his mouth to lie to him, but closed it again.

The boy walked around to join him on his dock. He took off his shoes and socks, leaving them behind them next to Harry’s, and rolled up his trouser legs. He pulled out his wand and plunged the tip into the lake. The water around Harry’s feet warmed up, and the boy stuck his feet in too. 

“Bit drained from yesterday?” the boy asked.

Harry gave a noncommittal hum.

“I’m Cedric, by the way. I’m Hufflepuff’s reserve seeker.”

They fell into an extended silence. 

Until Harry broke it. “You’re not going to tell me about how amazing I was yesterday?”

Cedric looked him over and raised a brow. “Do you really want me to?”

“No.”

They were quiet again, until Cedric broke it. “You grew up with Muggles, right?”

Harry slid his gaze sideways, not responding, as he waited for Cedric to continue. 

“Alright, so I’ve got this Muggle Studies assignment. Muggles have plumbing like we do, right? But how does it work without magic?”

Harry snorted. “Of all the things you could ask me, you want to know about Muggle plumbing?”

“Well, we aren’t friends, so asking you about your personal life would be rude, don’t you think?”

“No one else seems to care.”

“Yeah, that’s Gryffindors for you. So, plumbing?”

Harry thought for a moment. “How does magical plumbing work? I don’t actually know.”

“Well, most wizarding houses and manors are built with a magically filling reservoir so even when properly trained witches and wizards aren’t there, the house still has a water supply. Not everyone can afford a house elf to keep the house stocked properly. There are spells on certain pipes to heat the water.”

Harry stared for a moment. “Well, Muggle plumbing isn’t all that different, honestly. I don’t know much. When is your assignment due? I could write a friend if you have time.”

Cedric sighed. “It’s due tomorrow. Too bad.”

And they began to talk about classes. Apparently Cedric found Quirrell to be just as hard to understand as Harry. A lot of kids had been glad that the professor had taken last year off for a sabbatical. The Muggle Studies students were glad to be free of him, but now everyone was inflicted with his stutter. He apparently hadn’t had the stutter before he left, he just hadn’t been the greatest of teachers on Muggle subjects. 

“You know, Molly, she’s a seventh year, said she had to talk to a couple of Muggleborns to get through most of her homework. Professor Burbage is so much better in her opinion. And Molly doesn’t like to talk badly about people. She says Professor Quirrell is a much better Defense teacher.”

They talked a while longer about classes and teachers and their common rooms, because they were both curious about the others. 

Later, when Harry felt better, he made his way back to the common room. He found Ron and Hermione, who had become better friends since the troll incident, with their head bent together, whispering. Hermione looked up and hurried over to him. “Where have you been? We need to talk to you.”

So they sat down and the pair told him about Snape cursing Harry’s broom during the Quidditch match. Harry wasn’t terribly surprised, given the man’s apparent hatred for him. And while Harry tried to brush off their suspicions (he’d had worse, not that he could tell them that), they insisted something was up. 

It also turned out that they had more information than that. When they’d been talking to Hagrid about their concerns, he’d let a few things slip. Apparently, Hermione and Ron had mentioned Ron seeing Snape headed toward the third floor during the troll fiasco. Hermione determined Snape was trying to steal whatever it was the three-headed dog was guarding. 

Well, Hagrid had said the dog’s name was Fluffy, and he belonged to the groundskeeper. He also let slip that there was, in fact, something being guarded and whatever it was belonged to someone Professor Dumbledore knew by the name of Nicolas Flamel. 

Hermione was adamant she knew that name from somewhere, and so was Ron. With how many books Hermione seemed to absorb from the library, they’d be lucky if she remembered where she’d read it. She had a stack of notebooks she was paging through to see if she could figure out where she’d found it before. 

So, they went to the library. This time, Ron didn’t argue. He actually seemed excited to research for once. Harry did his homework while they scoured the shelves one towering bookcase at a time. 

Once his work was done, they’d finished two rows of shelves. He tracked down the books he’d checked out earlier in the year and had to return because he didn’t have the time to find the spells to translate texts. 

He found the important one easily. He could now translate his own books into Ancient Greek. Only, it was a complicated spell. And it required a few runes to do it. He hurried over to the runes section and found exactly what he was looking for. He copied down the runes and their instructions.

He returned to their table. He’d need a book, one that wasn't already translated and one he owned. He smirked. Now, about that secret passage out of the castle behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry walked out of the Gryffindor common room, with his jacket and hat on. Iphy lay around his neck like a scarf. He had his pocket money in his bag. 

He was going to use his chance at rule breaking to make his Christmas purchases. He pulled the Mist around himself like he did when he first entered the Wizarding World. While people would see him, they wouldn’t really notice him properly. He wouldn’t seem out of place. 

He stopped in front of the statue, staring at it. How was he going to get at the secret passage? He looked at the magic, but couldn’t figure out how to activate anything. 

“Well, well, Fred, what have we, here?”

Harry turned to see the Twins staring at him. They were looking right at him, but talking like he couldn’t hear them.

“Looks like Harry Potter trying to sneak out of the castle, George.”

“Do you think he knows that’ll leave you on the other side of the castle grounds from Hogsmeade?”

“Do you think he’s trying to get to Hogsmeade?”

“Where else would an ickle-firstie be headed?”

Harry raised a brow. “I’m guessing you know a better way?”

The two stepped closer, circling him. “Maybe,” Fred said.

“Are you going to show me, Fred?”

“I’m George.”

Harry smirked. “No, you’re not.”

The two exchanged a glance. “And how would you know that?”

Their magic looked different flowing around them, not by much, but enough. They were perfect mirrors of each other. “That would be telling.”

George grinned. “If we show you a better way, will you tell us?”

“If you show me, I’ll buy you ten galleons of things from Zonko’s.”

“Each?”

Harry nodded. 

“Done,” they said together and turned away down the hall. “This way.”

Harry wandered around Hogsmeade, after handing the Twins their pay. It was wonderful. He started with Tomes and Scrolls. As much as he wanted to follow the Twins to Zonko’s, it wasn’t like he could give the pranks to anyone. Maybe one day, he’d tell the Stolls everything and then he’d get the better of them in every prank war. But until then, there were only four people he could buy gifts for from the magical world.

However, when he passed the shop next door, he heard two patrons talking out front. “Dragon hide clothing seems a bit excessive, don’t you think?” They were looking at the display in the front window. 

“Dragon skin is incredibly strong. Basic attack spells, fire, and even some potions would have no effect.”

“You expect to be attacked, do you?”

“You never know.”

Harry backtracked and slipped into the shop. His worry for Clarisse was still nagging in his gut. Sure, she’d have weapons and a shield, even her armor, but she couldn’t go about everywhere decked out for battle. And with Kronos lurking…

He found a dark jacket that seemed to shimmer red. It looked a lot like snake skin. There was a part of him that hated it, but something that would protect his sister… he was willing to compromise. He pulled out a jacket that looked like the leather one he’d seen Clarisse eye last Christmas when they’d been out in the city. 

He knew she liked her jackets and hoodies a little big. She wouldn’t admit it, but she liked tucking her hands inside the sleeves. He’d noticed in the fall and winter. He also knew how big he needed to get, because early on, she would force him to wear her jackets when he started shivering. Gods, he missed her. 

He pulled the jacket off the hanger and tried it on, letting the sleeves hang. The inside was a warm fleece that was incredibly soft. 

The shopkeeper wandered over. “Hello, I’m Sophie. Can I help you, young man?” She had warm brown hair pinned in a twist at the back of her head and wore traditional wizarding robes like the ones she sold in the shop. 

“Christmas shopping. Looking for something for my sister. She travels to dangerous places a lot.”

“Well, you’ve got a good eye. Draconic Dignitas is a brand that’s ethically sourced.”

Harry raised a brow. “What does that mean?”

“My partner and I started it because we hated the dragon hunts, but we understood that the supplies the wizarding world gets from a dragon cannot be avoided. We have contacts with a dozen dragon sanctuaries across Europe and more internationally. When one of their inhabitants pass, we do what we can to utilize everything possible. Dragon heartstring is used in wand cores. Their blood, spikes, horn, and liver are widely used potion ingredients. The hide is used for clothing. Claws, horn and bone can be turned into jewelry. Bone can also be carved into blades for potion-making. We try to make sure nothing goes to waste. We like to think of it as honoring these magnificent creatures.”

“That’s wonderful,” Harry said. “Your partner?”

“Oh, she’s from the United States. She a direct descendent of the indigenous witches. She’s a conservationist that travels the world to fight poaching and overhunting of magical creatures. I’ve met Newt Scamander and his wife a few times. They’re big fans of the company. But that might just be family bias.”

Harry smiled. “Too bad you can’t meet Muggles. I’ve got a friend who would love you both.” While Grover would hate the use dragon parts for things, he would love the idea of honoring them in death. 

He turned toward the mirror. The jacket would hang down over Clarisse’s waist, so she could hide weapons. There where interior pockets for weapons or whatever else. 

Sophie stepped up behind him, pulling at the collar. “There’s a hood as well.” She pulled it up. “It stows away seamlessly, so you get the proper look no matter how it’s worn. There are warming charms on the pockets for cold weather. This is from a Hungarian Horntail. They don’t normally have the reddish tone. So, this item will be rather expensive.”

Harry turned and looked it over again. “That won’t be a problem. I’ll take it. How much is it? I’ll pop down to Gringotts if I don’t have enough with me.”

The four hundred galleon price was way more than he had on him. So he hurried down to the Gringotts branch, with a promise to be back before they closed for the evening. He stepped up to one of the three goblins inside. 

“Good afternoon, sir. I have a family account. Would it be possible to meet with my account manager, Griphook? I don’t have an appointment. This was rather last minute.”

The goblin slid from his chair and disappeared into the back room. A few minutes later, he was shown to a side office where Griphook was waiting. 

“I wasn’t expecting to be seeing you so soon, Mr. Potter,” Griphook said. 

“You’re not going to say anything about me being here?”

Griphook smirked and shrugged. “None of my concern. Shall we get to business?”

“Thank you for making time for me. I need to make a withdrawal, and I have a question for you as my account manager.”

“I’ll have someone prepare your withdrawal.”

After Griphook verified his identity with one of those purple pages and the scar on his hand dripping blood, he sent off one of his colleagues to gather the gold (Harry added a bit extra for a few extra purchases he wanted to make). “Now, what can I do for you?”

“If I wanted to make any investments, would I be able to have you look into it to determine if the investment is a smart one?”

Griphook hummed. “Indeed.” He pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote something out. “As you are of one of the noble houses, I think it wise you look into what your responsibilities will be once you come of age. Here are a list of books I suggest you look into. I would not trust the Hogwarts library with them.”

Harry stared at him for a long moment. “Is this one of those times where I have to ask specific questions to get an answer?”

“As you are underage, and your guardian is not present, I cannot say more.” He scowled. 

“You don’t like that you can’t tell me more.”

“I’m the Potter account manager. My responsibility should be to the Potter account holder.”

“And it’s not?”

The muscles in Griphook’s jaw clenched. “I can only make these suggestions, Mr. Potter. Just know that your guardian will have to authorize any investments made before your seventeenth birthday. I can, however, look into any investments you may wish to make at a future date without further communication.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t care if Mr. Brunner knows how I invest my money.”

Griphook turned back to his list, adding a couple more things. “I have added thirty extra galleons to your withdrawal, so you can make these purchases. Do you authorize that?”

Harry nodded. Something was going on. “I’d like you to look into Draconic Dignitas.”

“It may take a few weeks, but I will notify you when I have everything compiled.”

Harry took the page and his gold and left the bank. He stepped into the Three Broomsticks, buying a few dozen bottles of butterbeer, then Honeydukes to pick up a bunch of sweets. He reached Tomes and Scrolls, finally, and looked at the list of books Griphook had suggested. 

The books included the titles Histories of the Noble Houses of Great Britain, Political Dance: An Introduction to the Wizarding Political Scene, Law and Disorder: Everything One Should Know About the Wizengamot, Proper Standing: Expectation of the Nobel Heirs, and The Complete Guide to Wizarding Law. He found those easily enough, although they were large tomes that were altogether daunting. 

He perused the shelves looking for gifts for Annabeth, Percy, and Nyssa. He found a book on goblin smithing, and he flipped through the pages. Yep, found Nyssa’s gift. He wandered over to the books on creatures, a book about magical beasts found in the lakes and oceans of the world would be perfect for the son of the sea god. He found exactly what he was looking for and a second book on magical water plants. 

But Annabeth… what to get her? He decided to get her a copy of The Not-Quite Comprehensive Books of Wizarding Britain and Beyond as well as Magical Theory. Finally he found a copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, which he already had but he needed a book to practice translating. And if it worked correctly, maybe he’d turn it into a gift as well. As he was about to leave, he saw a first edition of Hogwarts: A History and bought that for Hermione, since she was always talking about it.  

He gathered his purchases and paid. He tucked them into his bag, still marvelling at how they all fit without the bag changing shape or weight. 

Then he returned next door to make his purchase for Clarisse’s gift. Sophie had packaged the jacket up, giving him a cleaning kit to keep it in peak condition and instruction for care. He also purchased a dragon-bone knife with an intricately carved handle with steel inlay. 

Before he could leave, the door flew open and a willowy woman blew in, a bright smile on her face. She brushed by him and kissed Sophie on the cheek, murmuring to her in another language. She had long dark hair and coppery skin with cheeks flushed from the cold.

Sophie gave the woman a warm, fond smile. She glanced at Harry. “This is Haseya, my partner.”

Haseya turned to smile at him, and she froze, mismatched eyes of green and black wide in shock. “Harry Potter.”

Sophie froze, turning to Harry. “How didn’t I notice?”

Haseya pulled her scarf off, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “There’s no way you’re old enough to be leaving the castle, and it’s not even a Hogsmeade weekend.” A necklace sat against her throat with seven beads on it, beads vaguely familiar to him.

“Interesting necklace,” he said.

Haseya lifted her hand to the strand of beads, as she and Sophie exchanged nervous looks. Harry tugged his necklace from beneath his collar. 

“You?” Haseya breathed. She hurried over to the door and locked it, then turned to lean against it. “What’s Camp like, now?”

“Well, Kronos is rising, and demigods are choosing sides.”

“Fuck.”

Sophie balked, scolding her for her language. 

“What cabin are you in?”

“That’s complicated.”

Haseya nodded in understanding. “Unclaimed?”

“Technically eleven, actually five.”

She scowled. “What?”

“Before I was claimed, I was adopted by an Ares kid. He allowed it. Hecate and Ares came to an understanding. Mr. D was insanely pissy with all that at first.”

“Who?”

“Mr. D?” At her apparent confusion, Harry added, “Dionysus is the camp director currently. Century banishment and forced sobriety because he went after the wrong nymph. Apparently Zeus called dibs.”

She nodded. “Right. Because that’s normal.” She took a breath. “I was never officially claimed. My mother did visit once. She had me like Athena does, Persephone. She didn’t want to cause a scandal, and it wasn’t like I’d be moved to a different cabin, anyways. I’ve kinda always felt drawn to the balance between life and death. Have you told anyone on this side of things?”

Harry shook his head. “Hell, no. Well, actually Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, figured it out, because, I guess, I’m somehow solid to them.”

“I was too, but only for part of the year, when Persephone was in the Underworld. It was only the Grey Lady who knew, and she swore to never say anything. So, I want to know everything about that side of things.”

Harry checked his watch. “I really need to be getting back before someone notices I’ve snuck out. Let me know the next weekend you’re free, and I’ll come visit.”

“I visit Hagrid when I’m in town. We’re having tea some time this week. When is your schedule open? I could show you where I would practice when I was in school.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to stare. How often had he lamented the loss of proper training? And now he might have a chance to burn some of his pent up energy. “Wednesday after three.”

Haseya grinned. “I’ll bring my sword.”

Chapter Text

Harry

When Wednesday rolled around, Harry made his way to the Great Hall. He was beyond excited. The entire day, he was itching to pull his weapons at the smallest provocation. Finally, he saw Haseya and Sophie walking across the lawn from Hagrid’s. Iphy bounced on his shoulder, chirping. 

As they led him through the school, Harry asked, “If you’re from the North American indigenous lineage, how did you end up at Hogwarts?”

Haseya cringed. “Not the nicest of stories, honestly. My great-grandparents were a bit of a scandal. At that time, in America, it was illegal for the magical to really interact with no-majs at all. Grandma Queenie married Grandpa Jacob even though she knew it would mean banishment from the magical world. And they sort of became the poster kids of changing those laws. Then Grandpa Albert was born, but Ilvermorny was still a bit… judgemental, so they sent him to Hogwarts where Uncle Newt went.”

Harry stopped in his tracks. “Uncle Newt? You’re related to Newt Scamander?”

She beamed. “I love that old man. So, Grandpa Albert returned to America and joined MACUSA to try to change things. That’s where he met Grandma Bly when she was fighting for native magicals to retain ancestral rights. Well, they had my mum and since there was still a fair amount of contention with MACUSA, they sent her here, so I came here, too.”

“So, your family have always been fucking with society and the establish order.”

She nodded. “We do enjoy political upheaval. I’m the face of our current fight, and I’m internationally… respected and disrespect. Sophie is one of our people in the background doing the legal leg work.”

Harry turned to stare at the other woman. 

“Well, after I met her,” Sophie said, “I made some choices that made it very difficult to practice law. So, we needed some way to pay the bills since I wasn’t doing much for an income.”

“If you’re related to Newt Scamander, why didn’t you just say so yesterday when you were talking about your work?”

Haseya smirked. “Because saying Newt Scamander supports our work sound better than saying my uncle likes what we do.”

She stopped in front of the large empty wall on the seventh floor across from the tapestry of trolls dancing in tutus. He’d always felt more magic here, but could never figure out why. 

“Alright, so I want you to imagine what you want,” Haseya said. “We’re sparring, so make sure we have space. And then pace in front of this wall.”

So, Harry imagined the sparring field at Camp and walked up and down the corridor. One the third pass, a door began to form on the blank wall. 

“It’s called the Room of Requirement.” She pushed the door open and stopped, making a soft sound in her throat. “You forget how much you miss a place when you haven’t seen it in fifteen years.”

It looked just like Camp, only missing the campers. He could see when the room shifted into a mural, but at a passing glance, you could see the lake, and the cabins, and the Big House in the distance. It was warm like summer, and a breeze blew through smelling of strawberries. 

“Wow,” Sophie breathed. “This is where you spent your summers?”

“Mum taught Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Kettleburn,” Haseya told Harry. “We saw each other all the time during the year. I think she took the position so I wouldn’t have to choose between Camp or seeing her over the summers.” She shrugged off her coat and set it on a bench. She dug through her bag and pulled out a few swords. “I brought extra so you can use—”

Harry drew his own sword as Iphy hopped down. “My sister wouldn’t let me come unarmed. Now that I’ve got this place, I can continue learning to use some of my other weapons. Started learning to wield them over the summer, but I haven’t practices since.”

“Let’s see what you got, kid.” And she lunged at him. 

They ignored Sophie’s worried fretting as they dueled around the room. After a while, though, she just sat down and stared at them, Iphy perched in her lap. 

Harry felt alive. He’d missed this. Then he felt something behind him. He threw his free hand out backward and created a shield. When he turned toward it, he found a dummy with a sword in hand.

“You can ask the Room for just about anything,” Haseya told him. “It can’t do food, and it can’t create living things. Let’s see how you do against two.”

Harry smirked and drew his second sword, spinning them both around him. Then he lunged back into the attack. After a while, more dummies appeared, and Haseya backed off. Harry continued fighting the dummies, using both swords and magic. 

Four dummies attacked at once, and he threw up a shield dome. He heard Iphy chirping in a concerned way just as his nose started to itch in a way that was uncomfortably familiar. 

“Stop!” he said, as he dropped the shield, and the dummies froze. He lifted his hand to his nose, and it came away smeared in blood. “Fuck.”

Sophie rushed over and began fretting anew. 

Harry tried to wave her off, hand pressed under his nose. “I’m fine. This happens when I overdo it.”

Haseya held out a small piece of ambrosia, and Harry ate it. He took them to the kitchens, pressing tissues to his nose. Hestia was sitting at one of the tables, talking to a couple house elves when they arrived. Her brow furrowed with concern.

“I’m fine,” he said as he sat beside her. “Just overdid my magic I got from my mother.”

“You found a place to practice, I take it,” Hestia said. 

Haseya and Sophie sat across from them, and house elves swept in and provided them with food. The house elf children raced over to them, clambering over Hestia and Harry.

“Careful, little ones,” the goddess said. “Harry’s a little hurt. Give his nose a chance to stop bleeding.”

Iphy chirped at them and distracted the kids for a while. 

“You’re from Camp, too?” Haseya asked.

Hestia gave Harry a conspiratorial smile. “Yes.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. 

They talked about Camp, and Harry told them about the past couple years with Kronos. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Haseya said. “The gods don’t really care about their kids after they leave them with their mortal parent. I mean, at least my mum knew what she was getting herself into when she spent a summer with Persephone. Well, she didn’t know she would be getting both sides of her life, but she knew the gods could create children without sex. Mum wasn’t really into that, but she wanted a daughter. So on the day Persephone returned to the Underworld, she left me for my mum.”

“Have you met many gods?” Hestia asked 

“Just Persephone and just the once.”

Harry coughed as he tried to keep from laughing. Hestia opened her mouth to speak, but she froze, head turning toward the fire. Her face twisted into an expression of distaste. “My brother grows needy. He’s calling a war meeting. I don’t understand why I am required. Probably wants to whine about Father some more.” She stood. 

“Will you let me know if there’s any news?” Harry asked. 

“If I hear anything about Clarisse, I’ll tell you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I don’t think I’ll be returning before you leave for the holidays. Do be careful, or at least try.”

He bowed his head, and he watched as she stepped toward the hearth and vanished into the flames. He turned back to Haseya and Sophie who were staring after the goddess with jaws dropped. “So, now you’ve met Hestia.”

Chapter Text

Harry

Finally, fucking finally, Harry was on the train home. When Professor McGonagall had come around a couple weeks ago to ask everyone if they were planning to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, Harry had quickly refused. She had tried to insist and demanded an explanation. 

His response was, “No is a complete sentence.” And he’d walked away. 

Hermione sat with him, talking about her family’s traditions. Ron and the rest of the Weasleys were staying at school. Apparently the Weasley parents were visiting their older brother Charlie. 

Harry thought that was a little strange, leaving four of your kids cooped up in a boarding school over Christmas and visiting one kid you could probably visit any time. But he wasn’t the best at knowing what to expect from families. Last year was the first time he’d ever gotten proper presents. 

Once the train arrived in London, Harry hurried to catch a taxi to the airport. He arrived with plenty of time to get to his flight after security and customs and all that. He only had his bag that appeared to only have a few changes of clothes in it when the security agent scanned it. 

It was late December 14^th when he arrived at Camp. Or actually early December 15^th, as it was almost dawn. There was now a dragon protecting the tree and Golden Fleece. No one was out of their cabins on patrol, so everything was quiet. Overall, it was weird. 

One of the security harpies landed in front of him, fangs bared as she snarled at him. 

“Back to how it used to be?” he said with a chuckle. 

She sniffed at the air and flew off again. 

He’d been forced to use Muggle travel, the overnight flight, because Chiron couldn’t organize proper magical travel. He’d slept well enough, so he wandered the grounds, waiting for others to wake. He wanted to stop by Cabin Five, but knowing that Clarisse wasn’t there… it was one thing to know something, another entirely to see it. 

Snow covered everything, and his breath fogged the crisp air. The chill bit at his lungs in a refreshing way. He couldn’t wait for daylight. Camp looked beautiful with frost and snowfall. 

Just as the sun was coming over the horizon, Harry heard a sound like a bus, skidding across the road. Light filled the sky, and he covered his eyes. He could have sworn he heard someone scream,” Watch out for Harry!” He threw up his hands and cast a shield, before a splash sounded. 

As the light faded, he blinked his eyes open to see what was happening. He was by the canoe lake, and there was a bus along the shore. Water dripped down his shield as he stared at the bus, an actual bus, sitting in the lake, and let his shield drop.

People piled out of the bus. Among them were Thalia and Percy. There were a dozen young women dressed in silvery coats. A young boy followed the others out, next to one of the girls in silver. Darkness swirled around the pair, just on the edges, but it was there. 

Harry stared at them for a long moment. “What the fuck?” 

The girl with the darkness squeaked and scowled at him. Ahh, new people, they didn’t quite get that people here didn’t police their language. 

One more person stomped down the steps of the bus, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. He was cocky and blond and shimmering. “Hey, you’re the kid that caused the drama last year.”

Harry twisted his wrist, shifting the Mist, seeing a little deeper. The man glowed like Hestia did, only he burned with it. “And you’re Apollo.”

Apollo beamed. “I see my reputation precedes me. I feel a—”

Harry pulled a knife and pointed it at Apollo. “If you recite even a single line of poetry, I will stab you. I’m jetlagged. I’m hungry. I haven’t seen my sister in three and a half months, and I probably won’t for a while longer.”

Everyone froze, staring between them. 

Apollo grinned. “You got balls, kid. Your father doesn’t appreciate my poetry either. I didn’t know you’d pick up on that, too, given…” He made a vague waving gesture with one hand. Harry guessed he was referring to his being adopted by Ares, not actually his kid.

“I have his patience, too.” He turned away from the god, stowing his knife. 

Thalia shook her head at him, but there was something in her eyes as she embraced him. “We lost Annabeth, Harry.”

He froze. First Clarisse, now Annabeth. She wasn’t dead. How he knew that, he wasn’t sure. Maybe because he was a child of an Underworld deity. He stepped back and scrubbed at his face. “So much for Happy Christmas.” 

“We need to talk to Chiron,” Percy said. “Zoë, do you know—”

“We are familiar with Chiron,” Zoë, one of the silver-clad girls, said. She wore a silver circlet in her hair, which was the only thing really different in their uniform. “Tell him we will be in our cabin.” She walked off with the other young women following after her.

Harry stared after them for a moment, then looked at Thalia and Percy. “So, Apollo?”

Both his friends nodded, Percy looking tired, Thalia looking perturbed. Harry turned to watch the girls head toward the cabins. Who were they? They were campers, so that didn’t really change anything about them. They knew where they were going, so claimed. As long as they didn’t make a big deal about his living situation he didn’t really care one way or another.

The boy— he was probably close to Harry’s age, maybe a little younger— poked his head around Percy. “Are you magic?”

He forced a smile on his face. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour and let these two talk to the big bosses.”

They walked away from the others. 

“I’m Harry.”

“Nico.”

Harry showed him the climbing wall with the falling lava, which Nico found awesome. Then they went by the amphitheater, the arts and crafts area, and the volleyball court. As they reached the Big House, Harry saw Chiron, Mr. D, Percy and Thalia through the window. “I’ll take you up there to meet the bosses later. They look busy.”

“So, are you magic?” Nico asked.

Harry gave him a smirk. “Now, that would be telling.”

“That shield was so cool. Is that something everyone can do?”

“Nah, my mother’s Hecate.”

“What about me?”

Harry stopped and looked him over. “I don’t know. You’re unclaimed. Most of us start out that way. Unclaimed kids go to Cabin Eleven, Hermes, God of travellers. Personally, I think Hestia should have been given a cabin and the unclaimed sent there. She’s the goddess of the home, and everyone is welcome. If you get claimed, it’s in the god’s time. Come on, I’ll show you the cabins, then I have to hit the forge.”

However, before they reached the cabins, they passed the basketball court, where a few of the silver-dressed girls were in a standoff with some Ares kids. 

“Stay here,” Harry told Nico. “I gotta deal with this.”

“You’re going to break up a fight?”

“Sort of.” He passed Nico his bag, with Iphy sleeping inside. “Hold this.” He walked a little closer and made sure Nico had stayed back. Then he lifted his fingers to his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. “Oi, jackasses.”

All four of the Ares kids turned toward him. Then they were racing his direction. Phil and Michael reached him first and tackled him to the ground. He crashed into the snow under a dog pile of his adoptive siblings. 

“Alright, get up,” came Thalia’s voice. “Let him breathe.” 

They cleared off, and Thalia dragged Harry to his feet.

“Thanks for that. I wasn’t entirely sure how to talk them down.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Harry said, “peacekeeper of Camp.”

Thalia snorted. “From what I hear, if peacekeeping was left to you, there’d be a lot of fights.”

Harry walked back to Nico, flipping Thalia off, hearing her laughing behind him. He took his bag back from Nico, slinging it across his body. Iphy pushed her head out from its depths, trilling at him. 

“You have a ferret!” Nico cried. “Can I pet it?”

Harry smiled, as Iphy climbed up to sit around his neck. “She is a polecat, and you can pet her if she lets you.”

Nico reached out, and Iphy pushed her head into his hand, chirping in contentment, as he scratched behind her ears and under her chin. The darkness Harry saw circling the boy swelled and reached over Iphy and him. But it didn’t feel wrong. It felt almost familiar in a way Harry couldn’t really explain. 

There was a shriek that drew their attention to more of newcomers, namely Zoë with her bow drawn and pointing at them. Harry dragged Nico behind him, drawing his sword. 

“Foul knave, doest thou dare purloin a bairn of our cadre!” the girl screamed. 

“Was that even English?” Nico muttered. 

Iphy lunged forward, hissing, and Harry scrambled to catch her so she didn’t plummet to the ground. 

More of Zoë’s companions followed her lead, drawing bows and leveling arrows at Harry. He shoved Iphy into Nico’s arms and tossed aside his bag. Then he drew a second blade, squaring up of half a dozen bows. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Zoë Nightshade loosed the first arrow, and it flew true. Harry leaned back, and it breezed passed his shoulder. He surged forward, diving into a roll as more arrows flew his way. One girl stepped into his path toward Zoë, and he twisted his sword into her bow, cutting the string. Then he slammed the hilt of his sword into her cheek, cutting it and sending her falling to the ground. 

He met two assailants and fought their hunting knives with ease. He kicked one in the knee, and he might have broken it. The other got inside his reach, and he head-butted her. 

Then there were more. He lost count how many of the girls in silver were attacking him and how. There were knives and swords and arrows coming at him from all directions. He threw out his hands, his shield pulsing out from him, throwing them all backwards, including Zoë. 

Something in the back of his mind raged. What had he done to deserve to be attacked outright? They’d left Nico behind, so it couldn’t have been his attention to the boy. Or had they been so keen on fighting that Harry calling his siblings off had been enough to warrant them attacking him in their place?

He rubbed the back of his hand across the itch on his nose and found blood on it. He hadn’t remembered being hit. 

He stalked toward Zoë, who was pushing herself to her feet. He swung at her, magic crackling around his fist. He hit her square in the sternum sending her back to the ground. Her comrades came to her aid, forcing him back, but he dealt more damage. Someone grabbed his wrist, and he spun to face them, his other arm drawing back. He wanted them to suffer for—

Nyssa stood in front of him, holding his wrist. She took his other one as well, and her lips moved, but no sound came out. Then Harry noticed the ringing. Her eyes widened in fear, as he blinked and everything tinted red. 

The sky swirled blue and red overhead, as he lay on the ground. He wasn’t sure how he ended up on his back, but Nyssa sat beside him, holding his hand, while Will Solace leaned over him. 

Harry felt drained. It had happened before, but not this bad. Or if it had, he’d passed out. The rage had faded to a dull simmer in the back of his mind.

Phil and Micheal appeared and helped him stagger to the infirmary, where Michael Yew, who was the current acting medic, and Will had him set up. He still couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears. The other beds were filled with the girls dressed in silver. He’d actually done a fair amount of damage.

Nyssa came in, carrying his bag, with Iphy in her arms. She perched beside him, letting Iphy sniff Harry and check him over.

As he blinked, the red faded from his vision, and he wiped his eyes, fingers coming away with bloody tears. Nyssa held out a tissue, and Harry took it, wiping at his face.

By dinner, Harry was the only patient left, and he had his hearing back. Will checked him over every ten minutes, it felt like. Micheal Yew had left Harry in Will’s care, because previously, Harry had seemed to listen more to Will.

He wanted to keep Harry overnight, which Harry didn’t… hate. He could avoid the unpleasant confirmation that Clarisse wasn’t there. 

Nyssa brought a plate of food and sat down at the foot of his bed. “So, you’re the talk of Camp, single-handedly trying to take on the Hunters of Artemis.”

Harry stared at her for a long moment. “The Hunters of…” He scrubbed his face. “Ah, fuck.”

“Yeah, as soon as you started throwing around magic, Grover came to get me from the forge. I didn’t even know you were back yet. Hi, by the way, glad your best friend means so much to you.”

“I was showing the new kid around. After the cabins, we were headed to the forge.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “Yeah, Nico was kinda in awe of your magic, something about spells and hit points. So, what exactly was that fight about?”

“I think I know, now,” Harry said. “They just started attacking me, without really saying much.” He looked at Iphy. “But it was about you, wasn't it. And that’s what you were doing, trying to stop the fight?”

She gave him a huff and a nod that he took for confirmation. 

“We really need to figure out this mental bond thing. It would make things so much easier.”

Will came in not long after and sent Nyssa away so Harry could rest. He busied himself with the cabinets while Harry changed, and with one more examination, he left Harry to sleep.

Harry found himself in darkness. The rage he felt before was there, only it was a thing. It shifted and slithered around him, making it difficult to move. Then it lifted up, and he moved with it. Inky tendrils clung to him. As the rage monster moved, it pulled the strings and made Harry as well.

He stared at the hooded figure that dominated his dreams, lurking behind the flash of green. With the pull of a string, like a twisted marionette, Harry drew his celestial bronze and goblin steel blade and cut the figure’s throat. 

Then came another figure shrouded in shadow, this one usually accompanied by a voice that belonged to Kronos. The strings pulled at him again, and his wand shot into his hand and the shout he recalled from his dreams that he didn’t quite understand fell from his lips, and Kronos crumpled, melting into dust.

Then came Zoë as they were locked in their battle earlier. Only Nyssa never came. The strings brought his wand up, and slashed downward, cutting her head from her shoulders. He wanted to scream, but nothing came out. 

Finally Nyssa took his wrist, too late this time. Against his will his hands closed around her throat and squeezed. She pulled at his fingers, his arms, his face. He pushed her backward, until she fell, and he leaned his weight against her neck. He screamed and fought inside his mind, but the strings pulled harder and—

Harry gasped, sitting bolt upright in bed. He unclenched his fingers even as his hands shook. He needed air. 

He raced outside, leaving a chirping Iphy behind. It was still dark, but he ignored the rules. He took off running. The chill of night bit into his face and arms. He hadn’t grabbed his coat or anything warm, his feet freezing in the snow. But still he ran. 

Everything felt like it was spiralling out of control. He’d been in fights before. He fought monsters and sparred with other campers. Hell, he’d gotten in fights with people before and nothing had ever felt like that rage. 

And it scared him. It had felt so enticing at the time, made him feel invincible. And maybe he had been. How many of the Hunters had ended up in the infirmary with him? Would they have fought differently had they known he was more than a young Ares kid? Would they have hesitated had they known his other heritage?

Then the dream… the feeling of that rage he felt simmering deep inside him holding him at its will… Sure, it would be fine if he could use it against Voldemort, against Kronos. But… realistically, now that he was in a clear headspace, he didn’t actually want to hurt Zoë or the other Hunters. 

And he’d never want to hurt Nyssa. She was his first friend (because Clarisse didn’t count, she was his sister). When things happened, he wanted to tell her. When he had problems at school, Nyssa was the first person he wanted to talk to. Hermione was up there, but there were a few of his friends from Camp that always were his first reactions after his sister. Nyssa, and Percy, and Annabeth, and Beckendorf, and Silena.

He was probably going to tell the last two everything over the summer. And probably the Stolls, too. And Thalia. He just… wanted to have people to talk to.

He stumbled, shivers wracking his body, the cold biting at the wetness on his face. Had he started crying? He pushed himself up and found himself near the dining pavilion. Hestia always had a fire going.

He staggered inside, heading to the hearth, only he wasn’t the only one there. The form sat beside the fire, elbows resting on her knees, fingers steepled and pressed against her mouth, eyes closed like she was praying. He should really leave her be. He tried to turn to go back to the infirmary, but his freezing feet slid and his knee gave out, sending him falling, loudly, into one of the tables. 

Then he found himself pinned by the piercing gaze of Zoë Nightshade.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry wanted to be anywhere but in the presence of the girl he’d tried to kill earlier. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” It came out as mostly chatters of his teeth. He was freezing.

Zoë huffed something that sounded like “Stupid boy.” She stood gracefully and closed the distance to him. He tried to draw on his magic, in case she tried to attack him in his weakened state.

Only she didn’t. She grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the fire. She pushed him down onto the hearth, and he curled against the warm stones. 

She returned to sitting, too, trying to stay as far away from him as she could, while still taking in the warmth of the fire. 

When he was shivering less and could speak properly, Harry looked over at her. “I’m sorry for earlier.”

She rolled her eyes and said nothing. 

“I didn’t know who you were.”

She glared at him. “And that gives thee an excuse?”

“If I had, I would have understood why you reacted the way you did.”

“What could thee know—”

“Iphigenia.”

As if him speaking her name had summoned her (and it probably had), she slithered over his shoulder and came to rest in his arms. She chirped at him in what was probably a lecture, the fur along her back puffing up in agitation.

“Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot. Sometimes I’m glad I still can’t understand you.” He lifted his gaze to Zoë who was scowling at him. “I didn’t steal her. She chose me.”

Zoë fixed him with a gaze that felt like she was dissecting him. “There is a touch of darkness about thee, a kind I have not felt in a long time.”

Harry felt like his stomach had dropped into the Underworld. That was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want to think about that rage making him do something unforgivable. 

“Thou art a druid.” 

He stiffened. How could she know that?

“I am older than I look, boy.” The way she said boy was like an insult. “I was a part of Lady Artemis’s Hunters long before the Gods’ seat of power moved west, before they mingled with the druids.” Her nose scrunched in distaste. “The druids had a way of getting their claws into their young women and making them feel…” She looked like she was searching for the proper word.

“Inadequate?” Harry offered. “Make them want to strive for a goal set by those in power who undermine their every attempt?”

She stared at him a moment longer. “Indeed.”

He scowled, scratching Iphy’s chin. “They’re still like that, but for people who are outsiders.”

“I heard whispers of a war a few years back. There was a young woman about to join us, Marlene MacKinnon. She was fighting in it against—”

“Voldemort,” Harry spit out the name the same way Zoë said boy. 

“Once she took her oath, we would have availed ourselves to her aid. He killed her and her family before she could. And we lost our link to the druidic world. What has happened?”

Harry debated what to tell her. He didn’t know her well enough to have the desire to protect her, and she didn’t seem like someone who would appreciate the attempt, anyhow. “There was a druidic prophecy about his downfall being brought about, and he decided it was about me. So he hunted down my family and murdered my mum and dad and tried to kill me. My mother said there was some ancient blood magic that saved me. He’s gone, but my mother doesn’t think he’s dead.”

“Thy mother?”

“Hecate.”

“I thought thy father was Ares.”

Harry smirked. “I’m adopted.”

Zoë blinked at him. “Ares? Adopted thee?”

He chuckled. “Well, Clarisse adopted me, and my mother and Ares came to an agreement to avoid drama. Apparently, it didn’t stop it all, since Apollo heard about it.”

She gave a wave of her hand. “Apollo is a gossip. Between him and Hermes, they know everything.” She paused and stared at him in that critical way, again. “Thou shalt to be quite a formidable demigod, boy.” This time it didn’t sound like an insult. 

Harry scoffed. “Yeah, if I could stop getting a bloody nose every time I try to use Hecate’s magic.”

“The darkness I spoke of… I know what it is. There is nothing I can do for it, but… Thou might learn to control it.” She was quiet for a moment. “Thou hast a splintered soul within thee.”

“Wow,” Harry muttered, turning away. “Thanks for telling me I’m broken. Guess I kinda deserved that.”

“Thou misunderstands. The shard is not thine. Tis a parasite. It has twisted itself inside thee.” She unfolded and grabbed his chin, making him look at her. “Tis a malevolent force. I do not recall what the druids christened it. But it feeds off the darkest parts of thy soul, dripping poison into thee. It thrives on anger and hatred and despair and pain, and it amplifies them.”

He swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat. “So, when we fought earlier… I… I’ve never…” He pulled away from her. “Did I want to kill you, or was it that thing inside me?”

“The anger was thine, but the shard of soul amplified it into the rage thou felt.”

Harry froze again, his dream coming back to him. It scared him how much he revelled in the power it had given him against Voldemort and Kronos. His shiver had nothing to do with the cold. 

“How do I control it? I don’t want what happened in my dream—” He stopped. He hadn’t wanted to mention what had woken him and sent him running in the night. 

“Tell me about thy dream.”

He pulled his legs up hugging them to his chest, and Iphy curled around his neck. “It started with the rage I felt when I was fighting you, and it sort of turned me into a puppet. Then Voldemort appeared, and I drew my sword and killed him. Or I was made to… I don’t know. Then Kronos was there, and I killed him too. Then it was us fighting, only…” He took a deep breath. “Only I didn’t stop. I tried to, but the thing pulled my strings… I cut your head off. Then Nyssa… my hands were around her throat, and I couldn’t stop it.” He felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. He would never hurt Nyssa, and seeing himself in his dream do it… it made him sick. 

“Thou loves her,” Zoë said.

“She’s my best friend.” And he loved her for it, that she wedged her way into his life without his consent, that she was always there for him, even when they fought.

She gave a soft hum with a raised brow. “Do not push her away. The parasite will attempt to isolate thee. It will feed into thy loneliness. It will prey on thy fears and insecurities. Do not let it win.”

Their gazes locked for a long moment, and Harry saw just how not-young she was. “How old are you?”

Zoë shrugged. “One stops counting in the service of Lady Artemis.”

“So, old, then.”

“Quite, we did not have a proper way to measure as the modern world does. Will thou be partaking in the game tomorrow?”

“Game?”

“Tis tradition when the Hunters come to Camp, there is a game of capture the flag. We are undefeated.”

Harry really wanted to. He loved capture the flag, and a chance to actually face the Hunters without wanting to kill them… “I don’t think Will is going to let me, not after today.”

“Tis a pity. Thou would have posed a challenge for us. It has been a long time since I have faced a druid.”

“I’ll let you know when I decide to come out to the camp. Then we can spar for real.”

She raised a brow. “Thou was not using your druidic magic?”

“No. There aren’t many here who know about it.”

“Who then?”

“Chiron, Mr. D, Percy, Nyssa, you obviously, then there’s Annabeth, and Clarisse, and my satyr protector. We don’t want word getting to Kronos.”

“I fear thou may not remain secret for long. The powers he controls…” She trailed off, brow furrowing. 

“Why are you awake? You’re safe at Camp. Or do you still stand watches?”

Her gaze flicked toward the Big House, but she didn’t say anything. Iphy leaned toward her, and Harry nodded in the Hunter’s direction. She leapt down and scampered over to Zoë, climbing into her lap.

“You had a dream, too.”

“We were told to remain here and await our Lady’s return. But… I fear she is lost to us.”

Harry felt his stomach plummet. “You had a dream about Artemis going missing?”

“She was being crushed in darkness.”

“But she’ll be alright, right?”

“We must rescue her, but—” she scowled at the Big House, again (or likely the centaur within). “We are being prevented.”

“Give me a couple days to recover, and if you’re still here, I’ll help you break out.”

She turned to face him, her brow raised. “Pardon?”

“I mean, I’ve never tried to get through the wards, but with two types of magic I should be able to. It might kill me, but you need to help Artemis.”

She stared at him for a long time. “Thou art… different, Harry Potter.”

He flushed. “My friend at school says I’m reckless.”

“Thou art a demigod hero. Tis in thy nature.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t tell her that.”

Zoë giggled, and Harry grinned at her. She wasn’t so bad after all. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry sat by the fire in the dining pavilion long after Zoë had left to try to get more sleep. He could see the worry in the set of her shoulders as she walked away. He should look into wards when he got back to school, and maybe some kind of tracking spells. 

He’d told her about the current nature of the Wizarding World and everything going on. She told him about how the druids used to be, back when the gods were among them. 

While he wouldn’t call them friends, exactly, and probably never would given their first meeting and her overall distaste for boys (he was sure there was a story or two there, but he didn’t feel comfortable asking), he could say he liked her, if for nothing more than her willingness to fight for those she thought of as her own.

He stood up, ready to head back to the infirmary. If Will caught him out here dressed as he was, any chance of him participating in the capture the flag game, minimal though it already was, would be gone. 

As he walked across the basketball court, he found five silver bows with their strings cut. He’d really done a number on them. He picked them up and returned to the infirmary. He changed his clothes and pulled on his coat and boots. He picked up his bag and the bows and made his way to the forge. 

He sat down at Nyssa’s station, pulling out the supplies he sometimes used when she let him help her with little tasks. Iphigenia curled up in the little basket-bed Nyssa had hung beneath the corner of the desk for her. He picked up the first bow and tucked one leg under him. 

For each bow, he removed the old strings and checked for nicks and damage he might have caused. He sealed each spot he found with the supplies from Nyssa’s table. Once he was sure they were finished, he re-wrapped the grips in soft leather.

The fire in the furnace flared, alerting him to someone else joining him in the forge. “You’re supposed to be in the infirmary.”

Harry looked over his shoulder to see Nyssa standing in the doorway to the forge. She wasn’t really annoyed with him. She was grinning despite the crossed arms.

“Sorry I’m late,” Harry said as he stood. “I meant to stop by yesterday to say hi.”

“Asshole.” She crossed the room and hugged him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Well enough.” He pushed her back and ran his fingers over her neck where his hands had been in his nightmare. 

“What is it?” she asked, lifting a hand to brush a fingertip over his furrowed brow. 

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He shook his head and turned back to her station, cleaning up the supplied he’d used. “Nightmare.”

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, setting her chin on his shoulder. “Tell me.” It was more of a request than a demand.

But who else would understand, properly? “I killed you.”

She squeezed his midsection a little tighter. “It was just a dream.” She pulled back and stepped up beside him, lowering her hand to let Iphy climb up to her shoulders. “Now, what are you working on so early in the morning?”

She picked up one of the bows, looking it over. “Fixing your mistakes?” She knocked her hip against his. 

He took a step sideways. “Trying.”

She handed the bow to him and walked across the workshop. She pulled a bundle of bowstrings out of a box high in the corner. She brought them back over, removing the twine holding them together. “The Hunters have a special bowstring they like to use. We try to stay stocked for when they visit.” She pulled out five and set them down for him. 

While Harry strung the bows, Nyssa cleaned up the supplies he’d used. When they were both done, Harry set the bows on Nyssa’s station. He extended his hands over the bows and focused on a spell he’d learned from his mother last year around the same time, a protective spell. While they wouldn’t be indestructible, normal wear and tear wouldn’t be a concern.

Nyssa hopped up on her station. “You’re really trying to make up for what you did.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” He turned toward the forge. “Anyone else up yet?”

“It’s still early. With Clarisse gone wherever she is, most people aren’t getting up to train. I hate that you’ve gotten me into being a morning person. Now, I’m always the first one here. But then, I’ve got a couple hours of quiet when I can work alone. Beckendorf will be up in about an hour.”

He glanced at his bag, then met her gaze. “Could I give you your Christmas present now? It’s not something I can really do in front of the others.”

She smirked. “Ooo, scandalous.”

He felt his face heat in a blush. “Not like that. It’s just… druidic.” He pulled out the two gifts, wrapped in festive paper.

She opened the first, pulling out the book. She raised a brow as she read the title. “Words are the Best Weapon.” She fixed him with a stare that spoke louder than anything she could say. What the fuck?

“Would you read that?” he asked her.

She was quiet for a long moment. “Sure.”

Harry grinned. “Liar. That’s the point. Open it.”

She flipped open the cover and saw the title page. Goblin-Smithing Through the Ages. And it was in Ancient Greek. Her jaw dropped. “Oh.”

“Couldn’t really have the cover say something a demigod would want to pick up.”

Nyssa nodded, as she flipped through the pages. “I can read this.”

“Well, I translated it to Greek.”

She blinked and grinned. “You did! Holy shit! I hadn’t noticed. This is so cool.”

Harry picked up the other parcel, holding it out to her. She tore the paper and looked over the box, cracking it open. She gasped, picking up the blade inside. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s dragon bone. Figured you’d love to test it out and see how it holds up to celestial bronze.”

Nyssa shook her head. “Coach and Grover are going to hate you.”

“It’s ethically sourced, by a demigod druid and her wife… well, actually, I don’t know if they’re married. They always referred to each other as partners. I should ask.”

“So, tell me everything about the druid world.”

By the time Beckendorf walked into the forge, still half asleep, trudging to the contraband coffee maker hidden in a cabinet in the workshop, Harry had told Nyssa everything, and she had started catching him up on the goings on at Camp. It was relatively quiet and a bit more unruly without Clarisse around to keep the Ares kids in line. 

Phil and Michael had been splitting councilor duties, rather poorly in Nyssa’s opinion. While they hadn’t lost the cabin cleaning, they hadn’t avoided it by much. 

Harry picked up the bow bag Nyssa had given him to carry the Hunter’s bows. She was under the impression that while they were at breakfast, he was going to sneak into their cabin and leave them. He hadn’t corrected her. 

Before he went to breakfast, he took a breath and took the plunge. He stepped into the Ares cabin. It wasn’t anywhere near as tidy as it usually was. Clarisse’s bed wasn’t made and her things were disorganized. So when she’d left in fucking September she’d been in a hurry, and no one had bothered to straighten up. 

He tossed his bag onto his bunk, Iphy scampering up as well, and picked up some of Clarisse’s thing. Then he scooped up the shield and sword she usually used for the wakeup call. He slammed the two together. “Wake up, assholes!”

Phil and Michael jerked awake, cursing. Trevor shot upright, knocking his head on the rafter above his bed. Zeek jumped and rolled out of his bunk and crashed to the floor. A fifth kid Harry didn’t know shot upright, pulling a knife from beneath his pillow.

Phil scowled at Harry. “You’re not turning into the replacement Clarisse this time, you little brat.”

“Then do your fucking job,” Harry snapped. “If Clarisse walked in right now, she’d kick your ass for letting the cabin get this bad. I expect this place to be clean before you go to training today.”

“Fuck off,” Zeek snarled as he picked himself up off the floor and wrapped his blanket around himself. 

Harry flicked his wrist and set the blanket on fire. The other three boys (not the new one) scrambled out of bed, probably thinking Harry would do the same to them if they didn’t. He definitely would have. 

“We’re the councilors here, Potter,” Michael grumbled. 

Harry slammed the shield into his chest. “The fucking act like it.”

The new kid glared at him as he climbed out of bed. He was physically imposing like just about everyone else in the Ares cabin, packed with muscle and seething. He stepped toward Harry, muscles bunching like he was ready for a fight. “Who the fuck do you think you are, you fucking asshole.”

The other four Ares kids bristled. “Whoa!” “Back the fuck off!” “Hey, now.” “Shut up, Yang!”

Yang turned toward them. “This little shrimp bursts in here and acts like he belongs here. And you’re having a go at me?”

Harry rolled his eyes and climbed into his bunk to put his sheets on his bed. Yang grabbed his arm and yanked him down the ladder. Iphy hissed at him from Harry’s bed. Michael and Phil tore Harry free of Yang’s grasp and shoved the newcomer into the wall. 

“What the fuck!” Yang cried. “That’s Clarisse’s bunk.”

“And his bunk,” Phil snarled. “We can give him shit, but you can’t. Not yet.”

Michael crossed his arms. “Not until we say you can.”

Before Yang could say anything, Zeek jumped in. “We get to give our little brother shit, because we actually respect him.” He cast a smirk Harry’s way. “Most of the time.”

Harry flipped him off.

Trevor propped his elbow on Harry’s shoulder. “We know where he belongs, even if he is adopted.”

Harry smirked. “Apparently, I’ve picked up on some of Ares’s traits. I’ve recently been told I have his love of Apollo’s poetry.”

Phil turned around, giving Harry a confused look. “Dad hates Apollo’s poetry.”

Harry nodded. “Exactly.”

His four siblings (not Yang) snorted. 

“So did you bring us anything from across the pond?” Trevor asked. 

“Do you want your Christmas presents early?” Harry asked. 

All four brightened. 

“If the cabin is clean by lunch, I’ll give them to you. If not, you wait until Christmas.”

“Damn it,” Michael hissed. “Fucking blackmail.”

“Is that blackmail?” Zeek asked. “More like ransom, I’d say.” 

“It’s extortion,” Trevor said

“Whatever,” Michael and Zeek said together.

Harry chuckled and grabbed the bow bag and Iphy before he left the cabin. “I’ll take care of Clarisse’s area. She’d probably murder you if you touched her things.”

Yang stared at him as he walked out the door. Harry would have to deal with him later. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry walked up to the dining pavilion. Most of the campers were there, sans a few sleepy-heads (like the Ares kids). Percy and Thalia sat alone at their tables, like always. At the head table, Chiron and Mr. D watching everything with interest and disinterest, respectively. 

Nico saw Harry from where he was sitting next to Travis and Connor at the Hermes table, and he waved with a grin. Silena and the Aphrodite campers were throwing glares and scowls at the Hunters at the table beside them. 

The Hunters mostly ignored everyone else around them as they spoke to each other. Zoë made eye contact with him over the head of the Hunters sitting opposite her, giving him a slight nod, and turned back to her comrades. 

He walked by the head table, earning the attention of the two directors. 

“Keep your head down, kid,” Mr. D snapped. 

Chiron rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Do try to stay out of trouble, especially after yesterday.”

Harry gave them a mock salute. “No trouble, head down. Got it.” And he walked straight toward the Artemis table. 

Thalia and Percy stepped in his path, holding him back. He sent a shock at them, and they stepped back, shaking out their hands. 

As he approached the Hunters, the one whose knee he broke  drew her knife and stood. “What do you want, boy?” There it was again, the boy being said like the worst slur.

“Phoebe,” Zoë said in a way that sounded like a reprimand. 

He rounded to table to stand by the leader (had Nyssa said Zoë had the title of Lieutenant?). “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I have some… things I need to work on.” 

He cast a glance at Zoë. She’d given him a lot to think about and research when he returned to school, assuming he could even find information on whatever was living inside him. It sounded like some seriously dark magic. “It was not my intention to cause the damage I did, and I got carried away.”

Iphy chirped and leapt from his shoulder. She landed on the table and scuttled over to Zoë. 

“Right,” Phoebe scoffed. “I’m sure no one put you up to this.”

Zoë lifted her cup to his lips. “They did not. We spoke last night.”

Harry pulled the bow bag around him and unzipped it. Phoebe and a few of the others drew knives, as if expecting him to attack them. He pulled out Phoebe’s bow first and extended it to her. He watched her brow furrow as she slowly took it from him. 

“I know I’m just a boy, but Nyssa’s beat weapon care into my head, sometimes literally.” He pulled out the other four, holding them out until the owner of each took them. “I fixed the damage I caused, and Nyssa gave me the strings she said you like to use. I also put a spell on them to protect them from minor damage. It won’t stop someone from hacking them in half, but hopefully you won’t have reason for that kind of protection.”

“How can an Ares kid put a spell on them?” one of the Hunters asked, looking at her bow with interest. 

“I’m adopted. My mother’s Hecate.”

Phoebe looked between Harry and Zoë. “When did you two speak?”

“Last night when he stumbled into the pavilion whilst I was here. He was near hypothermic.” And she wasn’t quiet about it.

“Couldn’t have said that any louder, could you?” Harry hissed. 

Zoë smirked. “What is the modern saying? Payback is a bitch?”

“HARRY POTTER!” Will shouted from the Apollo table. 

“You fucking suck,” Harry said, before he grabbed her bowl of food and took off running. He heard her laugh as he bolted from the pavilion to avoid the furious Will Solace chasing after him. 

Later, Harry was hiding in a tree at the edge of the forest, reading one of his new books: Proper Standing: Expectation of the Nobel Heirs. He’d translated them just as easily as the others. 

Upon his skimming of the table of contents, things he’d need to look into more were whether the Potters were titled, and if so how titled. Griphook had certainly implied he was. He, as the sole living member of the Potter family, might have political standing, whether Wizangamot seats or political sway. Given another book recommendation referred to the British magical world’s parliament and lawmakers, he probably did. 

Another section was about claiming inheritance, another for social gatherings, another for etiquette at political events, and another for expectation of the head of a family. 

He had a lot to consider. He needed someone in the Wizarding World he could talk to about this sort of thing. Maybe he could ask Sophie if he had questions. She was a lawyer after all.

“Has the Solace boy found thee, yet?”

Harry looked down and found Zoë below him. “No.”

She climbed the tree with ease, sitting on another branch. Iphy poked her head out from beneath her jacket, chirping at him. Zoë lifted her hand to scratch at his familiar’s head. “Thou forgot her at breakfast.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Besides, she wanted to see you.”

She pointed at his book. “What art thou reading?” 

He showed it to her. “The goblin who handles my family’s accounts implied that my orphan status was causing some drama. He couldn’t say more, but he gave me a list of books to read.”

“Being a demigod is simpler than politics, and, from what Marlene said, druidic politics seem worse.”

He turned to look at her. “So, any further consideration on slipping away?”

“When thou believe thou hast recovered, I will accept thy offer.”

Harry nodded. “Tomorrow night. After lights out.”

“The harpies do not frighten thee?”

“After last summer, the harpies and I are on decent terms.”

They fell silent as Will Solace walked along the edge of the forest. Harry flicked his wrist, and his wand shot into his hand. He shot a spell through the trees at a loose branch a ways away, sending it falling to the ground. Will’s head shot around in the direction of the sound, and he raced toward it.

Now he just had to wait for the letter that would give him a warning about the use of magic in front of Muggles. 

“May I?” Zoë asked, gesturing to his wand.

He handed it to her, and she looked it over. 

“Tis beautiful.” 

“Black willow from Hecate’s sacred grove.”

“With moonstone in the handle,” Zoë said. “It should hold a reservoir of magic for more powerful spells. Many of the wands Hecate commissioned for her children were made thus. What doest the core contain?”

“A hair from the mane of the Nymian lion.”

She stiffened and turned to look at him. “I knew the original wielder of this wand.” A distant, almost melancholy, look flashed across her face.

“Who?”

“Art thou certain thou wishes to know? From what I have learned, history was no more kind to her than life was.”

Harry nodded, taking his wand back when she handed it to him. Iphy slid into Zoë’s lap, where the Huntress began to pet her absently.

“Morgana la Fey. It was back… oh, probably around the fifth century. She and Merlin had a… conflict.”

“I thought Merlin was from later. I was told he was a Slytherin.”

Zoë rolled her eyes with a derisive hum. “Salazar was a bit of a… I think it is called a ‘fanboy’. He also attempted to convince the druid world Morgana was a student of Godric, but that did not make its way into legend. Marlene was shocked when I told her the real story.”

“Would you tell me?” Harry asked. 

Zoë shifted to get comfortable. “Back then, the druids were not kept secret. There was a bit of drama with Uther Pendragon, but that all turned out to be guilt. I was elsewhere for most of it, until Arthur was king, and that was after Morgana was well on her way to being what she was. Magic was a known. And Merlin enjoyed the control it gave him over people by nature of his title as court sorcerer. There was only one reason Salazar would be so enamoured with someone like Merlin.”

Harry raised a brow. “Are you saying Merlin was a pureblood and prejudice?”  

Zoë nodded. “He was from a long line of druids going back hundreds of years. Morgana was… not.”

“She was from a dormant line?”

Again she nodded. “Her mother was. Back then when the gods walked freely among the mortals. Her mother was like thine from what thou hast said. She desired a child, and Hecate blessed her, so her next… well, I imagine thou knows how a child comes about.”

Harry grimaced. “Yeah, Chiron gives everyone the talk.”

Zoë smiled, but it quickly turned sad. “Morgana… She was powerful. There is a reason their rivalry is still discussed, taught, just not the truth of who she was. She fought for equality, for druids, for the non-druids, for women, for the lower classes. Had she been born later or had she won, she would be lauded as a revolutionary. But back then, she was a problem, a decenter, a fanatic.”

Zoë trailed off, looking out into the distance, but Harry suspected, she was lost somewhere in the past. “She was wonderful. She was powerful and articulate, educated and… beautiful. She was the only person I have ever met that made me consider forsaking my vow.”

She blinked and blushed, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “She was incredibly skilled with and without a wand. Thy mother made sure of that. Lady Artemis offered her a position in our ranks, but she refused, gracefully. She had her own dreams and desires. She knew she would never be able to dedicate herself to the hunt without regrets wearing on her.”

He waited for her to continue, and when she didn’t he asked, “What happened to her?”

“Thou would learn that she went to rule Avalon, and she devolved into darker and darker magics, until her quest for power destroyed both her and the island with all its inhabitants.”

He almost didn’t want to ask. “And what really happened?”

Her face was carefully blank. “If I had held out any hope for men at that point, it burned with her. I will not disrespect her by giving voice to the horrors she endured. But when we found her, she was near death, and she refused nectar and ambrosia. She made one last request, and I carried it out.”

Harry hesitated. “What was it?”

“I put a blade in her heart. It was many years later I heard of Arthur’s fate at the hands of her son, Mordred. The boy had learned of his parentage. I may or may not have been the one to do that.”

There was something in the depths of her eyes that burned white-hot. Harry was certain Zoë had been the one to tell Mordred. And now, he was also certain that had Zoë been better prepared for him, had she not been distracted by her anger at her perception of his theft of Iphy, one of them would probably be dead.

Whatever had burned within her moments ago faded, and she turned almost melancholy. “There are times I wish I could have felt some shred of pity or sadness for the boy, but when I heard he had fallen on his sword after he killed his father, I felt nothing. Nothing but satisfaction that the men who destroyed Morgana were dead and in the care of the Kindly Ones.”

“Gods, I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. “I can’t even begin to imagine…”

“Lady Artemis took her leave from us for a while after that. She gave us no commands but to find her when we were done.”

“Done with what?”

“Merlin still lived.”

Harry felt a vindictive smirk spread across his lips. “And how much longer did he live?”

She matched his mirth. “Longer than he should have, had the others gotten their way. I drew it out.” Something passed over her face, again, something dark. “Twas less than he deserved, but I got my satisfaction. Nemesis was our companion during that time.”

She took a deep breath, and the darkness faded away. She returned to the etherial Huntress. 

Zoë turned her head to look at him. “So, I am very familiar with the rage thou felt yesterday. It took me many years to learn to live with it. It never truly goes away. It just begins to have less of a hold on thee.”

“Harry!” Will Solace had found him. “Get your ass down here!”

Harry rolled his eyes, turning toward the medic. “Can’t you see we are having a conversation?”

Zoë snatched the book out of his hands and shoved him out of the tree. He tried to catch himself on the branches between him and the forest floor, but he still crashed into the ground, the wind getting knocked from his lungs. 

“Traitor,” he gasped, making her laugh ring out above him.

He’d take that as a win given he’d just made her relive a horrible memory. 

She waved his book at him. “I shall deliver this to thee later when I drop off Iphigenia.” She gave him a wink. Even if she didn’t like him, per-say, she was willing to cover for him. So maybe he was growing on her a bit. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry lay in the infirmary. Again. Will had been furious with him after finding out about his middle of the night escapade. Most of the morning after he’d been found had been spent getting poked and prodded by the trainee medic. 

Lee, the senior medic, was away for the school year. Michael Yew, the junior and now acting medic, was taking on some of his more annoying traits. Now, Will was just as annoying as they had always been. Gods, Harry hated the medics, always poking and prodding and trying to get him to lay around.

He tossed a stress ball into the air and caught it. He was pretty much prisoner until Will set him free. The door opened, and Nyssa slipped in, her new book under her arm. 

Harry sat up. “Are you supposed to be here?”

“I didn’t ask, but as long as you stay here, I can’t imagine Will or Michael would have a problem with it.” She flopped onto the bottom half of his bed, flipping open her book. “Did you know there are goblin specialized smiths for all types of metal. Apparently, silver is a more valuable material for their creations than gold. Gold doesn’t hold goblin magic as well as silver, which is why they use silver for their armor and weapons. Gold is simply for decoration.”

Harry smiled at her. “How far are you?”

She pointed at the page she was open to. “Page twelve. Goblins specialize in their smithing. All their smiths seem to have a background in blacksmithing, because it’s considered basic for them. After that, they specialize in gold- or silver- or copper- or white-smithing.”

“Whitesmithing?” Harry asked. 

“Tin or pewter. They also have specific craftsman just for coins. They’re incredible. Have you looked at some of the pictures in here? The detail in some of their swords… and their jewelry… I’d love to apprentice with them. But I doubt they’d let in an outsider. Still…” She fell sideways on the bed with a dramatic sigh. “One can dream.”

Maybe Harry could ask Griphook if that was even a possibility. They’d have to wait until the drama with Kronos was done, but Nyssa and Beckendorf, maybe some of the others… the Hephaestus kids would be love to learn a new style of smithing. 

The door opened again, and Nyssa turned, probably expecting Will. But it was Zoë. Nyssa sat up, quickly, hand dropping to her knife. 

Zoë walked toward them. “Thou art Nyssa, correct?” At Nyssa’s nod, Zoë gave her a long once-over as she walked closer. She stopped beside the bed and dropped her gaze to Nyssa’s still open book, brushing her fingers down the page. “Goblin forged weapons are exceptionally powerful. Goblin silver and steel can be imbued with a substance that makes it more powerful. That is why Hecate once commissioned goblin steel and celestial bronze weapons. Goblin silver doesn’t work well with celestial bronze. However, silver and gold are a formidable combination.”

Nyssa stared at Zoë. “You know?”

The Huntress nodded. “We spoke of many things last night. Do not let him push thee away.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ask him.”

Nyssa looked at him, brow raised. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Harry muttered, throwing Zoë a half-hearted glare. “Haven’t you gotten back at me enough?”

“Thou tried to kill me.”

“I said I was sorry.”

Iphigenia popped out of Zoë’s hood with a chirp.

She smirked and held out his book, Iphy running down her arm and leaping into Harry’s lap. “I marked a few sections thou should look over. Thou should be made aware, as thou art an orphan, thy guardianship was given to—”

“Yeah, my aunt and uncle. They signed their rights over to Chiron and Mr. D.”

“In the non-druid world, perhaps, but within the druid world, someone took druidic guardianship. Everything within thy control in thy inheritance is not thine until thou turns seventeen. Whoever is thy guardian would be able to take thee from Camp Half-Blood.”

Harry felt his stomach drop. “I’d like to see then try.”

“Thou should find a good lawyer.” 

The door opened again, and Will stepped in. He froze, staring at them. “I swear to the gods, if you three start a fight, I will end you.”

Zoë rolled her eyes. “I should be going. We are preparing for capture the flag. Tis unfortunate thou shall not be joining the festivities.”

“Damn right,” Will muttered. “He’s grounded. Since he can’t spare a shred to self-preservation, I won’t even let him watch the game.”

“Oh, come on!” Harry cried. 

Harry was bored. He’d already been bored with his morning imprisonment. Now lunch was inching by. Nyssa had brought him his bag from the Ares cabin with a scowl.

“Sherman Yang was being a dick,” she muttered. “Apparently you made an impression this morning.”

Throughout the afternoon, he had other visitors, but Will remained watchful so he couldn’t slip out. Percy stopped by and told him about his call with Tyson.

“He says hi, by the way. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about Annabeth.”

He went on to tell Harry about the plan for Percy and Thalia to co-captain the team for capture the flag. Harry knew that was a bad idea. The two of them were at odds at the best of times, and they both felt they had something to prove against the Hunters. 

Nico stopped in while Percy was still there, which made Percy’s face fall into a forced smile. Harry raised a brow at him. 

“You’ll have to fill me in on school later.” Percy left to prepare for the capture the flag match.

Upon prompting, Nico told Harry all about what he’d learned about Camp so far.

“We get to learn to fight! With swords! Were you this excited when you arrived?”

“Oh, of course,” Harry lied. There was no point in bringing down the poor boy with his terrible life before coming to Camp, with the fear that had been so ingrained in him he’d been afraid to have anyone even speak to him. 

As Nico went on and on about anything and everything, Harry just sat and listened with a smile on his face. Nico didn’t seem like he’d actually had many friends in his life. At least outside his sister, Bianca, who had just joined the Hunters. He would be alone and unclaimed. Harry just wanted to make him feel as welcome as he’d been, to have someone who treated him with respect. 

Harry loved the others around Camp, but some of them got a little too hyper-focused on thing. Silena and Beckendorf probably wouldn’t have given him a second glance had Clarisse not made her choice to take Harry in. And yet another unclaimed in the Hermes cabin was easily lost in the chaos that was life in Cabin Eleven. 

Silena and Beckendorf stopped in briefly to see him, before they departed to join the others in plotting for the game. 

Thalia arrived halfway through the afternoon, while Nico was telling Harry about his favorite game, Mythomagic. She was scowling and lay on the bed beside Harry, head by his hip as he leaned against he headboard. 

“You alright?” he asked. 

“Fine,” she told him in a way that made it clear she was not fine. “She’s so fucking annoying.”

Harry cast Nico a glance, since his sister had seemed a bit annoyed at Harry cursing when they’d arrive. Nico was grinning. 

“Are you allowed to swear?” Nico asked.

“There are plenty of kids that spent time on the streets or came from less than perfect backgrounds. Street-kids curse. And others just pick it up.”

“Which were you?” Nico asked them. 

Thalia smirked. “I spent a few years living on the streets. This little shit—” She elbowed Harry in the leg. “He just picked up the habit from his surrogate sister and her siblings.”

“I’ll have you know,” Harry said. “I’m adopted.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Ares adopted you. That’s definitely something he would do.”

Yeah, Harry really needed to tell Thalia the truth.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry lay in his bed in the infirmary, with Will at the medic station, watching him with a glare, and Nyssa beside him, reading their books. They were the only ones at Camp that weren’t participating in the capture the flag game. Nyssa hadn’t wanted to leave Harry alone, and Will was waiting for the aftermath. Michael… Michael Yew was acting as the field medic, working triage on the battle-field. (Gods, he hadn’t realized how annoying it was to have two people he interacted with regularly to have the same name. Was this what everyone else felt like with him and Satyr-Harry?)

Apparently, it was normal for many of the Campers to end up in the infirmary after a game against the Hunters. Sure, the Hunters were outnumbered nearly two to one (had the three currently in the infirmary been with them), but that didn’t mean anything when the Hunters of Artemis were better at fighting as a unit and far older. 

The horn sounded, signalling the end of the game, and Harry and Nyssa closed their books. Will stood up, preparing for whatever was about to arrive. And arrive it did. 

Over the next ten minutes, all five of the Ares kids were brought in with broken bones. Phil and Michael both had broken arms. Zeek was carried in by two Apollo kids with a broken leg, and Trevor had a broken nose. Sherman Yang walked in himself, with an arrow in his shoulder, but Will went off on him for walking the whole way on his severely broken foot and ankle. Two Aphrodite girls came in with broken fingers and cuts on their faces. Tina and another Demeter girl Harry didn’t recognize came in with minor injuries, but they were pretty young, so everyone tended to fret over the little ones.

Nyssa raced over to Cam, one of her brothers, who walked in holding his shoulder that looked to be dislocated. 

Beckendorf arrived soon after, but looked healthy enough. He crossed the room to Harry. “Chiron has called a meeting of the head councilors, and since the rest of Ares is out of commission…”

Will shouted, “Get out of here, I have patients to tend to.”

Harry didn’t wait around in case Will chose to specify he was only referring to Beckendorf. He gathered up his things and Iphy and raced out of the infirmary. 

The meeting ended up being around the ping-pong table. Mr. D and Chiron were sitting on one end, with Zoë and Bianca on the other end. Beckendorf sat between Silena and the Hunters, since the Stolls had claimed the spots near Chiron. 

Mr. D kicked out the chair next to him, pointing at it, like he expected Harry to sit down there. Harry ignored him and sat at the other end of the table, next to Zoë. Percy, Thalia and Grover walked in before Mr. D could say anything and took the three empty seats.

“So what’s going on?” Harry asked. 

Zoë scowled. “This is pointless. Our goddess need us. The Hunters must leave at once.”

Harry cast a glance at her. “I’m not ready,” he whispered. 

“Ready?” Chiron asked. 

Harry looked anywhere but at the centaur, even though he felt the activities director’s eyes boring into him. 

Zoë decided to get another bit of revenge by telling the truth. “He offered to break us out.”

“Well, now it’s definitely not going to happen.”

She met his gaze. “We have been given a prophecy.”

Harry glanced at the two directors. “Then why are we talking?”

“There are aspects of the prophecy we must review,” Chiron said. “As we always do.” He turned to Zoë. “Where will you go?”

“West,” Bianca said, “as the prophecy said. Five shall go west to the goddess in chains. We will take five Hunters and go.”

“Indeed,” Zoë said. “Artemis is being held captive. We must find and free her.” And Harry agreed with her. 

“You’re missing something, as usual,” Thalia snapped. “Campers and Hunters combined prevail. We’re supposed to do this together.”

Harry interrupted what would likely become an argument between two extremely strong willed women. “I don’t actually know the prophecy. Do you mind telling me what exactly we’re discussing?”

So, Chiron recited it. 

Five shall go west to the goddess in chains. That part was pretty self-explanatory. Zoë was given the prophecy with the question of helping Artemis. Five would travel west to find a trapped Artemis. 

One shall be lost in the land without rain. Foreboding. But lost could mean many things. It didn’t necessary mean someone would die. It could be that someone would get separated from the quest. 

The bane of Olympus shows the trail. Whatever the bane of Olympus was (probably nothing good) would lead the way somehow. No one seemed to know exactly what it was.

Campers and Hunters combined prevail. Again, obvious. Unfortunately for Zoë, Thalia was right. She’d have to take campers, too.

The Titan’s curse must one withstand. Again, not obvious. What was the Titan’s curse supposed to be? Which Titan? Which curse?

And one shall perish by a parent's hand. Unlike earlier in the prophecy, this part left no question as to the fate of one quester. One of the five would die.

While Harry had been thinking about the prophecy, conversation had moved on around him. If he could convince them to let him go on the quest… maybe he could help ensure only one died. 

He had Hecate’s power. He’d read plenty about her known abilities. He might be able to manipulate time, or keep people from dying, even bring them back. He already had a decent command of the Mist. 

And the bane of Olympus… it sounded like something powerful. If he could harness its power, he could become stronger. He could help fight the Titans in the coming war, maybe even help end it far sooner. He might even use it to take power over Olympus. To—

“Harry!” 

His head throbbed, and it dropped into his hand. “Fuck.”

Blood dripped from his nose onto the table. He felt Hecate’s magic pulsing around the room. And he felt the strings from his dream twisting through his thoughts. 

“Get Nyssa.” Zoë’s voice cut through the fog, and Harry felt the rage bubble up. He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat and— NO!

As the strings pulled him toward her, he dug in his heels, grabbing Zoë’s arm, even as he fell out of his chair. 

“I need the room,” she told everyone. The others began to argue, and she shouted, “GET OUT!”

The only notion that he had that people had listened was Zoë sinking to her knees beside him. “What is it saying?”

He took a few short breaths, trying to keep from lunging toward her. “It really wants you dead for some reason.”

“What does?” So Percy was still there.

“The malevolent shard of soul currently in residence inside him,” Zoë said

“And you would know that how?” Mr. D asked. 

“I have seen it before.” She grabbed Harry’s chin and made him meet her gaze. “Breathe slowly.”

He reached up and held her wrist, doing what he could to do as she said. His breath came out shaky.

“What’s going on?” Nyssa’s voice sent a wave of calm through him. She knelt next to Zoë and took his free hand in hers. 

As his breath came more easily, he felt the strings from the thing loosen. He still felt its rage, but he forced it back. When the last figurative string was finally cut, Harry slumped sideways, falling against Nyssa. 

“Most of the Hunters will be remaining here when the quest departs at dawn. I will request Nora works with thee on meditation until we return. She can give thee the knowledge thou needs to control the foreign soul.”

He nodded slowly. “Thank you. I’m… going to pass out, now.” And he slipped into darkness.

When Harry clawed his way to consciousness, he heard Chiron, Michael Yew, and Will talking. 

“If we’re going to treat him, we need to know everything,” Michael said. 

“There are things I cannot tell you,” Chiron replied. “Rest assured, I will see to Harry when he is with us for the foreseeable future.”

“What are you hiding?” Will demanded.

“William, know this, you do not need to know this. If and when it becomes necessary, you will be told.”

Will’s muttering faded away, cutting off with a slammed door. 

“Chiron?” Nyssa’s voice came from beside Harry. He felt like he was laying on one of the couches in the rec room, and there was a hand around his.

He heard Chiron’s wheelchair move closer, but couldn’t make himself move. “Yes, dear?”

“What did Zoë mean? What soul?”

“That’s something you should ask Harry.”

“He’s been avoiding the subject all day, since I think that’s what Zoë meant earlier.”

Harry finally got control of his arms, and he tightened his fingers around hers. “I’ve got a piece of an evil soul living inside me,” he mumbled. “I’m guessing Voldemort, but the jury’s still out on that, since I only just learned about it.” He forced his eyes open and winced at the blinding light. 

Nyssa helped him sit up, and Chiron picked up a glass of nectar for him to drink. 

“Zoë brought it to your attention?” Chiron asked.

Harry nodded, immediately regretting it, as his headache flared. “Last night, I had a nightmare and… well, I ended up in the dining pavilion with Zoë. We talked about a lot of things. She knew a few druids, so she knew what I was.”

“There are many dark arts that might cause a soul to shatter or splinter and still others to attach a soul to something or someone else. Those do not bare considering to any normal person.”

Harry scoffed. “Well, I guess that pushes the theory closer to Voldemort.”

Nyssa raised a brow. “So, what exactly did Zoë want you to tell me?”

“She said it would try to isolate me, that it would try to make me push people away.”

She snorted. “Yeah, since that worked when you showed up here. Sorry, asshole. You’re stuck with me.”

“Thanks.”

Chiron gave a contemplative hum. “What else did she tell you?”

“It feeds on everything negative, like anger, hate, pain, fear, and makes them worse. It sounded a lot like a monster, only this one I can’t fucking kill. I just don’t understand why it wants to kill her.”

Nyssa laughed. “You tried to kill her.”

“Yeah, then. But now… I like her. She’s helped me… a lot more than I expected or deserve.”

Chiron sat back, stroking his beard. “If you are the soul’s host, it would take any attack against you as an attack to it. She and the Hunters attacked you, on her command. It might see her as an enemy. It might be protective because any harm to you may harm it.” But there was something about the way he said it. 

“You don’t believe that,” Harry said. “What’s your other theory?”

Chiron sighed. “It’s spent, presumably, at least ten years feeding off you, unknown. She made you aware of it. Where it might have been acting in self-preservation yesterday, now it seems more like its angry.”

Harry swallowed hard. It felt like rage. Had he simply been feeding that thing when he trained? Had that made him such a strong fighter? Was he dangerous to those around him?

Nyssa moved to sit beside him. “Stop overthinking it.”

He blushed. “I wasn’t—”

“I know you. You were spiraling. I don’t think a piece of an evil soul would be protective of others. Now shut up and stop overthinking things.”

Harry lay back against the couch, and Nyssa pulled out her book. She began to read a passage aloud about the history of some helmet, and he drifted off.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry woke unsure of where he was for a moment. Then the night before came back to him. He, now, lay on the couch, Nyssa asleep on the other end, her legs tucked between him and the back of the couch. She’d wedged her bare feet under his thigh. 

He checked his watch and saw it was nearing dawn. Zoë and Thalia would be leaving any time on their quest. A quest where one would be killed by a parent. A quest where only two could encounter their parents. And Grover probably didn’t have to worry. 

But could Zeus actually kill Thalia? It was fucking Zeus so probably. Harry knew no one would actually voice their thoughts of the king of the gods for fear of him smiting them where they stood, but he doubted many people actually liked him. Maybe not even Thalia. Probably especially not Thalia. 

He carefully sat up, trying not to disturb Nyssa, or Iphigenia who was curled up in her arms. He was only half successful as his familiar woke and picked her way free of Nyssa’s hold. Harry pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Nyssa, making sure her feet had a second layer over them. She got cold, easily outside the forge. 

He picked up Iphy and slipped out to the veranda. He found Thalia and Grover standing at the bottom of the steps with Argus by the Camp van. He came down behind them. 

“Be careful, will you?” he said softly. 

Grover jumped with a high-pitched squeak, stumbling away. 

“Are you alright?” Thalia asked, dropping a hand on his shoulder. 

“When you get back, I need to talk to you about a few things.” He saw Grover scamper off to where Zoë and Bianca were approaching. He pulled one of his goblin steel and celestial bronze knives from his bag. “I want you to take this, in case you need it.”

She took one look at it and lifted a stormy gaze to his. “That’s—”

“It’s not like that.”

She shoved it into his chest. “I won’t take anything like—”

“Thou should.” Zoë appeared beside them, and Iphy dove into his bag. “He does not idly offer thee such a gift. Tis a powerful weapon, and one that must be closely guarded.”

Harry reached into his bag, seeking his familiar and brushed her back. She pushed something into his hand, and he pulled it out. The polecat stuck her head out, chirping at him. It wasn’t one of his knives, but then, his mother had said Iphy could come and go from the vault at will. Perhaps she had brought it back. 

He held the gift out to the Huntress. Whatever blade it contained was sheathed in dark leather. Zoë took it and dropped her hand to brush Iphigenia’s head, muttering something to the polecat. Then she drew the blade. It was curved and shaped like a scimitar, but the size of a dagger. The goblin steel and celestial bronze mixed with a marbled effect. There were moonstones embedded within the handle, the steel and bronze woven around them. 

“Tis beautiful,” Zoë whispered. She smiled at Iphy. “I thank thee, my dear friend.” She sheathed the dagger and hooked the sheath to the strap of her quiver against her chest. She turned her attention to Harry. “She is quite fond of thee. Do not prove her dedication falsely lain.”

“I won’t. I have plenty of vicious maidens in my life who will not hesitated to beat the shit out of me. Like this one.” He jerked his head toward Thalia. 

Zoë smiled, raising a brow at the daughter of Zeus. “Thou may trust his intentions. I know what it is he offers thee. If he is doing so, he treasures thy friendship, recently acquired though it may be.” She glanced at Harry. “Doest thou intend to tell her?”

He nodded. “When you all get back.”

“Good. I fear thou willst have need of thy friends before thy prophecy comes to pass.”

Thalia turned to Harry with a raise brow. “Since when do you have a prophecy?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck. “It’s… complicated. I’ll tell you when you get back, yeah? Because you’re coming back.”

Zoë glanced over her shoulder. “We must depart.”

“Where’s Phoebe?” Thalia asked. 

“Those sons of Hermes gave her a poisoned shirt. She must remain to heal. We have not the time to make other arrangements.”

Argus handed Zoë the keys as Chiron came out of the Big House. “Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not planning to go anywhere. I’m a boy. I’m not really welcome.”

Zoë looked him over, and her gaze wasn’t what he would call unwelcome. If he hadn’t been in a bit of a state, would she have let him go? “The satyr is bad enough,” she said. Guess not.

Harry tugged Thalia into an embrace. “Be careful.” When he pulled back, he pushed the knife into her hands. “Just take it.”

It was just after dawn, and Harry sat on the steps of the Big House. The four people who just left Camp… he somehow knew none of them would be returning, not the same way they left, at least. 

He heard footsteps behind him, coming down the stairs before a blanket half-draped over him as Nyssa sat down beside him. 

“You’re spiraling again,” she said, softly. “What is it this time?”

“The quest left.”

“We knew that was happening. What’s bothering you about it?”

“It’s just… this feeling.”

Nyssa waited quietly for him to continue. She was good at that, knowing when he needed her to stay quiet or fill the silence with ramblings on one of her many passions. 

“If they come back, they won’t be the same.”

“No one ever comes back from a quest the same as when they left,” Nyssa said, hooking her arm through his. 

“I don’t like it.”

“Maybe it’s just that soul piece. Didn’t you say Zoë said it might feed on your worry or something?”

“Maybe.”

Harry spent the day taking it easy, with Will and Michael Yew watching him from a distance. The Hunter, Nora, daughter of Pasithea, found him at breakfast and dragged him away to learn to meditate. She gave him the basics throughout the morning.

“I can only give you the tools,” she told him. “You will have to work at it for the tools to be of use. To start, you need to empty your mind. Shouldn’t be too difficult for a boy.”

Harry scowled at her, but found her smirking, playfully at him. 

“Focus on your breath, slow deep breath in, and a long slow breath out.”

They continued like that for a while, Nora’s soft, melodic voice ghosting across his mind when she gave instructions. By the time she drew their session to a close, Harry felt a fair amount lighter, more relaxed, less frenzied. Less like he was being pulled in two different directions. And the thing had settled. Harry no longer felt it like a monster crouched in the shadows, ready to attack at the slightest provocation.

They made a plan to meet up every morning to meditate together while the Hunters were at Camp.

After lunch, Nico found Harry and dragged him to the practice field. He wanted to show Harry everything he’d been learning the last two days. 

He wasn’t all that skilled with the practice sword he swung around, but he was excited and ready to learn. So Harry spent the entire afternoon with him, working with him on how to properly use a sword. 

The kid still had darkness floating around him. It wasn’t as obvious without his sister there. The pair together seemed to magnify it. And it would occasionally get worse when the boy would get frustrated. 

At dinner, Harry took his plate over the Hermes table. Since he was technically supposed to be there, he didn’t figure it would cause any drama, but it did stir up some whispers among the Hunters. It was just him and Nico, because the Stolls had found their way into the infirmary with a few broken bones apiece and arrows in their asses. Why they thought it was a good idea to antagonize the Hunters, Harry didn’t know. 

“Do you know who my godly parent is?” Nico asked softly.

“You’ll have to be patient,” Harry told him. 

“Yeah, but you could guess.”

Yes, Harry very much could guess. He suspected Nico’s godly parent called the Underworld home. That’s why he had shadows in his orbit, shadows that reached out to Harry. There must be some kind of kin-ship there. Or the darkness around Nico was drawn toward whatever the shard of soul he possessed was. Or maybe both. 

Because he had a really bad feeling that Nico was another forbidden kid. And if his father was who Harry worried he was, they’d hit the trifecta. Thalia daughter of Zeus, Percy son on Poseidon, and Nico… maybe the son of Hades.

Harry really liked Nico, but his very existence (if what Harry suspected was true) could toss everything in chaos.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry looked around the grounds of Hogwarts from where he sat on the steps to the Entrance Hall. The snow sparkled in the light of sunrise, untouched by footsteps from the snowfall over the night. Everything was still and quiet. 

This was the part he loved about the castle, the stillness before everyone else woke. He blew out a sigh, breath fogging in front of him. Over the treetops of the forest, some kind of creatures flew, dark shapes weaving into and out of the foliage. 

His next breath turned to smoke, and then it became hot. It was almost blisteringly hot. He winced as it blew into his face, squeezing his eyes shut. 

The cold vanished. After the heat of his breath, it settled into something cool. Not the cold he’d been experiencing at Camp or Hogwarts, not anything warm.

He opened his eyes, and he found himself in a desert with nothing as far as he could see, except for a scattered rock formation. As the moon shone overhead, the light reflected off the rocks. Only they weren’t rock. They were some sort of metal. 

“Hello, Harry.”

He whipped around to find Bianca standing there. “What’s going on?”

“Thank you for helping Nico, for befriending him.”

Something wasn’t right. She shone in the moonlight, but… it wasn’t natural. He revelled in night, in walking by the light of the moon. He knew what things looked like lit by its pale brightness. Bianca was awash in the cool glow from the moon, but she seemed almost too pale. 

“I hope you can help Nico find a place to belong. Like I had with the Hunters.”

“Had?” He really wanted to wake up, now. 

She gave him a sad smile. “Had. I’m dead, Harry.” That would explain her almost washed out appearance. She was a spirit. 

“And I’m dreaming, Bianca.”

“Son of the Lady of Ghosts, legacy of Death. It wasn’t hard for me to find you, even in your dreams.” She reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Please watch out for Nico. He won’t understand.”

He stared at her for a long time. “You know who your parent is, don’t you?”

She nodded, looking at the ground. “I figured it out.”

“Is it Hades?”

Her gaze snapped up to meet his, eyes wide, then her expression softened. “Child of the Underworld.”

“Did he kill you?”

“No.”

Harry felt the blood leave his face. That left Thalia. Thalia was going to die.

“You should know… Zoë’s father… they’re going to encounter him.”

Harry gasped as he awoke. He was in his bed in the Ares cabin. The dream of Bianca swam around in his head. He sat up, grabbing his things from his bunk and slid down the ladder. 

He threw on his clothes and jacket, stuffing everything he might need into his bag that he hadn’t really unpacked yet. Iphy leapt off his bed and landed on his back, crawling into his coat. 

When he stepped out of the cabin, he heard a screech from overhead as the harpies swooped by. He reached the beach, staring out east. “Apollo, I need a ride, if you would be so kind.”

There was no response, so Harry did something he knew he’d regret. “I’ll let you recite poetry the entire way.”

“Where are you headed?” came Apollo’s voice from behind him. 

Harry turned to stare at him. “I’m going to regret that, aren’t I?”

“Oh, you wound me, kid.”

“I need to find the group looking for your sister. I know it might cause some drama with your dad.”

“My sister’s in trouble. I don’t care what Dad says. But I don’t know where they are. I can get you in the general area they might be headed. But that’s going to be far too much land for you to search before the solstice, if they’re even where I think they might be.”

“I’ll worry about that.”

He pulled out a key fob and clicked it. A shining golden car appeared, both doors popping open. “Get in.”

Harry climbed inside. He was going to regret this. How many kids from Camp want to ride in the sun chariot? And Harry was about to, and he’d have to listen to—

Kid from Camp Half-Blood
Needed my help to go west
Buckle your seat belt.

Harry bit back a snarky remark about the poetry, because he really needed the ride, and he did as he was told. No sooner had it clicked into place, and he was slammed back into the seat, as Apollo shot off. 

He looked out the window. The view was almost worth the terrible poetry, but then Harry wasn’t really a fan of poetry in general. It was beautiful, watching the sunlight wash over the ground below. He just tried to tune out Apollo’s incessant poetry recitation. 

When they finally pulled to a stop, Harry felt like he was going to have to carve out his ear drums to stop the unending limericks and haikus. 

“Central California,” Apollo said. “Good luck finding your friends.”

Harry got out. “Thanks for the ride.” 

He sat down and pulled out his American Muggle—No-Mag money. He needed to eat something and buy food in case he didn’t get a chance to stop until… whenever he found the others. 

He found a grocery and bought a bunch of food, both fresh and packaged for later. He paid and ate breakfast, stuffing his purchases into his bag. Once he was away from the public, he pulled out his Nimbus. 

With the Mist drawn around him, he kicked off from the ground. He spent the entire morning flying over the area in a spiral pattern. After a long time, he landed around midday in a park and sat down to eat. Iphy climbed out of his bag and into his lap. 

When he finished eating, he set off again, searching until nightfall. When he lost the ability to see properly, he landed and found a back alley to crash in. There were three guys huddled around a fire in a metal trash bin down the way. 

“You cold, kid?” one of them asked. He was bundled up in bright pink coat, an orange hat with a pompom on top, and fluffy, checkered pants. “Come warm up.”

Harry stepped over to them, hand dropping to his knife, just in case. 

“Got a name?” another of the drifters asked. He had a fluffy afro and rainbow glasses. Harry could see a Hawaiian shirt under his jacket, and the drifter wore baggy sweatpants and ratty, mismatched shoes.

“Phil,” Harry told them.

“I’m Don, and these are Harold and Reginald.”

Harold was the drifter in the brightly colored gear, and Reginald wore a coat at least four sizes too big with the hood pulled over his head and blocking the firelight from reaching his face. 

“What brings you to our fair city?” Harold asked. 

“Trying to find some friends. We were supposed to meet up, and I missed them.”

After Harry warmed up, he found a spot sheltered from the wind and curled up to sleep. He woke with the sunrise, finding his companions were still asleep. He got up and set off again. 

He’d have to find the others today. Artemis needed to be on Olympus tomorrow. He spent most of the day searching, breaking only long enough to eat brief meals, and long into the night. 

Right when he was about to give up, he saw something in the distance. A plane swooped low near the Golden Gate Bridge, with a flash of silver alongside it. Both landed in what appeared to be a park. As he drew closer, he saw the people from the silver thing split up, some running toward the plane, others helping one person from it. 

He knew it was them, his friends. There was a Muggle— No-Maj with them, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that Grover and Thalia didn’t know about the other half of his life. He didn’t care about anything but one of them being wounded… one of them was dying if the cool tendrils of darkness creeping along the edge of the field were anything to go by. 

He pushed his broom into a dive, shooting toward them.

Chapter Text

Harry

“Incoming!” Harry heard someone, a voice he didn’t know, cry.

He saw the two people next to the man who had gotten out of the plane draw their swords— Percy and… Annabeth. But she would have to wait. The two young women leaning over the wounded one pulled their own knives. 

“Harry?” Thalia cried, as she nearly dropped her knife, because she wasn’t the one dying. 

He felt a weird twist of relief and nausea that she was safe but that Zoë was the one dying. He’d suspected as much because of Bianca’s warning the quest would encounter Zoë’s father, whoever he was. He hadn’t wanted Thalia to die, not after she’d just returned to life, again. But Zoë… He hated prophecies. 

He threw his leg over his broom before he’d hit the ground and landed at a run, leaving his Nimbus to fall to the grass. He needed to help Zoë. He fell to his knees beside her, summoning magic to his hands, and cast it over her. Iphy climbed from his bag, scampering to Zoë’s face, and nuzzled her cheek.

Oh, gods. It was bad. She had poison coursing through her with every beat of her heart. Her body was badly broken, but it went deeper. There had been a blow that struck into her very soul that was draining her life away. 

He focused on healing her. He could save her. She didn’t have to die. He drew at the poison, stitched broken bones together, lanced her soul, drawing the damage away. His mother was the goddess of necromancy. He could bring her back from the brink of death. 

A hand closed over his wrist. “Cease, little druid,” Zoë said, voice strained. 

Harry let his eyes focus on something other than the magic pulsing around his hands that had shifted from a pale amethyst to wine-deep mass with wisps of black swimming through it. Zoë’s silver coat was splattered in red, and another drop appeared.

Harry lifted his hand to his face, and when he pulled it back, blood pooled in his palm. Still he extended his hand again. “I can save you.”

“No.” She took a slow breath, wincing. “Please, let me speak to my lady.”

Harry looked around and found one of his shields pulsing overhead, with the others pushing against it. He took a breath and forced it to fall. A young woman Harry didn’t know stepped closer, kneeling beside them. She was dressed like the Hunters, and a braid draped over her shoulder. 

“Have I served thee well?” Zoë asked her.

So that was Artemis. Harry slid back to give the two the appearance of privacy, holding his bleeding nose. Thalia knelt, too, speaking to the Huntress. 

“You were right,” Thalia said. “About Luke, about heroes… men, everything.”

Zoë gave an argumentative hum. “Perhaps not all men.” She spoke to Percy for a moment, turning him a bit flustered. Then she called out, “Little druid.”

Harry shifted closer again. 

“A phial,” Zoë breathed. 

Harry reached into his bag, digging around for a moment, until he found one.

Zoë blinked and shining tears fell from her eye. “Memories of thy world, everything I can recall.”

Artemis took the phial and caught the tears. They turned to silver strands, pooling in the bottom of the phial. 

“Don’t push people away.” Zoë gaze turned distance, a small smile playing across her face. “I can see the stars.” And she fell still. 

Harry let out a shaking breath as the pulse of life within her faded away. Iphy gave a mournful cry, a paw pressed to Zoë’s jaw.

He watched Artemis gather Zoë’s last breath and cast it into the sky. He wasn’t sure if the stars moved or new ones were born or those that were there became brighter, but a new constellation took shape. The Huntress. That was going to royally fuck with the stargazers at Hogwarts and in the Wizarding World. 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he looked up to find Artemis standing next to him. She held out the phial. “My attendant’s memories, young druid.” 

He took it from her. “Thank you.”

“I imagine you do not wish certain parties to know of that fact?”

He shook his head. 

“No one will hear of it from me.” She pulled a dagger, the one he and Iphy had given Zoë, and pressed it beneath his chin. “Unless you betray us.”

He met her shining silver gaze. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you will not be the first in line.”

She smirked. “No, I imagine not.” She flipped the knife around her hand. “Zoë used this to stab Atlas. It was enough to wound him to return him to his place holding up the sky.” She bent down to brush her hand down Iphy’s back, speaking softly to her in a language Harry didn’t know. She put the knife into her belt with a smile. “You will make sure to keep him in line, won’t you, my friend?”

Iphigenia gave a sharp chirp and bowed her head to the goddess. 

Artemis met Harry’s gaze again. “Don’t give her too much trouble, will you?” She departed in a flash of light with the promise of sending them help. 

“What the fuck was that?” Thalia asked him. 

Harry pushed himself to his feet, holding his nose with one hand, the phial of memories with the other. “I’m a wizard, from the druid world, so two kinds of magic. I’m going to a school to learn how to wield it, and I recently learned I have a piece of an evil soul living inside me, thus…” He gestured to his bloody nose.

Annabeth stepped closer. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘evil soul’?”

“That’s what you’re focussing on?” Thalia cried.

Harry gave a humorless laugh. “It’s been a crazy few days,” he told Annabeth. “I’ll tell you when we get back to Camp.”

Percy handed Harry his broom. “So can only you ride this, or…”

Harry shrugged. “You’re welcome to give it a try, later.”

“Why are you two so calm about whatever he is?” Thalia cried. 

“Because they already knew about it,” Harry told her. “I told you we needed to talk when you got back. That knife I gave you? Celestial bronze and goblin steel. You want to know the details on goblin crafts, you can ask Nyssa. I gave her a book of goblin smithing for Christmas.”

“Does Clarisse know?” Thalia asked.

Percy snorted. “First thing we asked, too.” Then he turned his attention toward the sky. 

Four pegasi descended, one being the black one that favored Percy. Harry stashed his broom back in his bag and stooped to pick up Iphy. He swung up onto the horse, and they set off into the sky.

When Harry woke, he wasn’t coming in to land at Camp Half-Blood like he expected. After his nose had stopped bleeding, he’d fallen asleep, or passed out, or some mix of the two. 

They landed in an extravagant city, high up the mountainside in a courtyard. The city stretched out far below, with glittering spires and shining rooftops leading down to… New York City far below.

They were on fucking Olympus. Harry felt the stickiness of the soul infecting him. It knew there was power here. He needed to meditate. But he followed his friends anyways, into the main palace, through glowing gates. 

Toward the throne room of the gods.

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry stopped in the doorway of the throne room, suddenly light-headed. His nose began to itch, and he lifted his hand to find it bleeding again. He leaned against the column beside him.

“Harry?” Annabeth asked.

“Go,” he told them. “I’ll wait here.”

As they walked further into the throne room, Harry let himself sink to the floor. He didn’t notice his hand had fallen or his eyes had closed until a cup met his lips, tipping nectar into his mouth.

“Drink,” came a soft, feminine voice. “You are not well, child.”

He forced his eyes open as his strength slowly returned. The woman kneeling beside him was beautiful with fair skin and green eyes that pierced him like a sword. Her long black hair fell in riotous curls around her face, with golden accessories twisted into it. She didn’t look so different than himself. 

He took the cup from her, continuing to drink the contents. He could hear conversation still going on inside the throne room, but he ignored it. “Thank you,” he told the woman… the goddess beside him.

She smiled at him. “You’re Hecate’s son, correct?”

He nodded and immediately regretted it, when his head spun and his stomach turned. The goddess helped him drink more nectar. 

“You’ve overtaxed your magic.”

“Something like that,” Harry muttered. 

Once he’d finished the contents of his goblet, he set it aside. He looked over the goddess again. She was dressed like the goddesses in the drawings and artwork from Ancient Greece. Her dress was a rich violet, with gold and silver jewelry. 

“Who are you?” he asked. 

“Ariadne.”

“Mr. D’s wife?” What did she see in him?

She smiled. “Time has not been kind to him. He used to walk the mortal realm far more, connect with the mortals. He cares more than he lets on, and loss hurts the gods just as much as is does the mortals. He’s not reached the level of indifference some of the other gods have found. Perhaps in some way, the gods feel it even more, as mortal lives are fleeting to a god. They dare not get attached to someone who will so quickly fade away. They would rather not feel anything than risk the hurt.”

Harry frowned. “Anything worth having you should fear to lose. I never wanted to have anything, because it could so easily be taken away. But I never had anything I truly cared about. Until my sister. And I just lost someone I’d like to think of as a friend. It sucks, and I tried and failed to stop it. But I would never go back and not become friends with her.” Harry gave a sad smile. “I might go back and not start whatever you might call our relationship with trying to kill her.”

He looked over at the throne room, where there was a decently tense standoff occurring over a… was that a cow with a fish tail?

All the gods and goddesses towered over the mortals. Apollo and Artemis looked like Harry remembered, only dressed more… Ancient-Greek-formal. Zeus was obvious, sitting at the head of the room and looking like a self-obsessed asshole (not that Harry would say that out loud). Beside him sat a woman dressed in regal finery with peacock feathers throughout her elaborate wardrobe, so Hera.

On Zeus’s other side was a man dressed like he’d come from the beach, with a Hawaiian shirt and sandals. He was the only one Percy would turn his back to, so Poseidon. Next to him was a misshapen man with a metal brace on one leg. That had to be Hephaestus. If the gods could look however they wished, why did he choose that form? But who was Harry to judge? Dionysus chose to look as he did.

The last two gods were Hermes and Ares, and it wasn’t hard to figure out which had adopted Harry. Ares was dressed in his armor, his helmet sitting at his feet, sharpening a knife. Harry couldn’t see much else from where he sat. Hermes was playing with his mobile phone.

The goddesses were similarly easy to identify. Demeter was dressed in an elegant green dress with vines in the fabric, probably real ones. Athena wasn’t in armor, but she held herself like a warrior, even as she was in her proper gown. 

Aphrodite was beautiful in a way the word didn’t do justice. She was perfection. Her hair was perfectly in place and her make-up perfectly done and her dress perfectly crafted and her jewelry shone perfectly. And all that perfection made her feel… unreachable. And there was nothing about her that appealed to him. He preferred the flaws in humanity. It made them real.

The realness of Annabeth’s wild hair when she spent hours sparring, or her charcoal-tipped fingers when she spent an afternoon drawing up designs she dreamed of one day building. Of Thalia’s sideways smirk when she poked fun at him or her uneven hair because she didn’t care for perfection. Or Nyssa’s soot smeared face and arms after she spent the day in the forge. Or Clarisse’s scars that showed she was willing to fight anything and everything. 

It wasn’t so different from the guys in his life. Percy’s uneven smile and messy hair when he climbed out of the water. Beckendorf, like Nyssa, showing signs of his days in the forge. Nico’s wild eyes as he drank up anything anyone would teach him, short though their friendship had been so far. Connor and Travis who mirrored each other’s twisted grins and slightly pointed features. 

They were all beautiful in every aspect of the person, both in appearance and personality. But all of them were far from perfect, but he preferred them as they were. It sometimes made him sad that Silena tried to strive for the perfection of her mother when she was wonderful the way she was. He loved the things in his friends that made them human. It made them real and approachable and made him adore them. 

And as he watched, Thalia knelt before Artemis. She spoke an oath… she was joining the Hunters of Artemis. A part of Harry hated it, but there was another part that… he’d seen it coming, a bit. They’d become friends, but he’d seen that she’d felt like an outsider. 

She was a forbidden child. They—Thalia and Percy—would always be a bit other. They were powerful, and though they might wish for it to be otherwise, they would always be doomed to being held on a different level than the rest of them. 

And, now, Artemis had offered Thalia a way out. She’d been given a way to renounce her parentage, to make her the same as the others. 

Things progressed quickly after that, and Ariadne pulled Harry to his feet. “Come. Tis the solstice. Let us celebrate.”

The party was… excessive. As the Olympians began to join the celebration, Dionysus approached his wife. When he saw Harry, he raised a brow. “Now, Harvey, how did you get away from Camp without the wards alerting me?”

Harry shrugged. “Apollo?”

“I should still have known.”

“Magic?”

Dionysus gave a soft, contemplative hum. He grabbed Harry’s chin, looking at him with a gaze that actually made him seem like the god he was. He took in Harry’s face… or it felt like he was looking beyond his face. “I see what the Huntress meant. We will speak when we return to Camp.” And he walked away.

Ariadne stared after him with a fond, yet exasperated smile. Then she looked at Harry again. “Harvey?”

“It’s Harry actually. When I started at Camp I didn’t really… I wouldn’t speak up for myself. So I just accepted it. But it seems some people he doesn’t call by their given name.”

“No,” she said. “Sometimes he does it to show his distaste for someone. He has a general disregard of heroes, after Theseus. But for you, I think he wanted you to stand up to him. He knows what it’s like to be…” She cast a glance toward the Queen of the Gods. “Disliked by those with power over you, like your relatives. Now, though…” She trailed off. “He has a soft spot for family. He adores his boys, and you… well, he can’t actively treat you differently, but—”

“I’m not related to him,” Harry said. 

She gave him a playful smile. “Oh, dear uncle, you are to me. My mother was your sister.”

Harry stared at her for a long moment. 

She gave a warm laugh, patting his arm. “Don’t overthink it. If you start thinking about the family tree of the gods, you’ll realize just how intertwined it is. Now, I must ensure my husband doesn’t piss off his father any more than he already has. I’d like him to return home sometime this millennium.”

No sooner had she left him alone, then he wasn’t anymore because Percy, Annabeth and Grover came over.

“Hi, Harry!” Grover said. “What are you doing here?”

“Long story. I’ll tell you when we get back to Camp.”

“Who were you just talking to?” Percy asked.

Harry looked after Ariadne who walked up to Mr. D and looped her arm through his. “Ariadne, Mr. D’s wife.”

Mr. D turned to give his wife a warm smile, and it seemed to change him more than a simple smile should. He clearly adored her. He swept her out to the open area and began to dance with her.

Everyone was celebrating. As if they hadn’t just decided to go to war against the Titans. As if the Titans’ military stronghold wasn’t being rebuilt. As if Clarisse wasn’t missing. As if Zoë hadn’t just fucking died. 

An arm dropped over Harry’s shoulders, and he turned to find Thalia next to him. She looked the same as always, but at the same time so very different. She was far more relaxed, more at ease. She looked truly happy for the first time since he met her when she’d been thrown from the tree. Now, she wore a similar circlet around her head that Zoë had worn. 

“Lady Artemis has granted me leave to return to Camp with you to gather the Hunters. Tomorrow, we must depart, but she’s giving us time to speak.”

He looked over the party, where the gods were laughing and drinking. How many demigods had died for them over the centuries? So they could sit on their shining mountain and look down on the mortal world. So they could walk it when the fancy hit them and fuck some unsuspecting mortal and have a kid they’d ignore. So they could drink and dance and wait for demigods to die fighting their war.

“I want to go home,” Harry whispered.

Thalia nodded and led him away from the palace. In that moment, he hated the gods. Their war with the Titans could destroy the world, and they were barely taking it seriously. Now, he understood why so many demigods were joining the side fighting against the gods. He might not condone siding with Kronos, but he couldn’t truly fault those that joined a side that was fighting for their right to be seen by the parents that so easily left them behind.

Chapter Text

Harry

When Harry and Thalia had arrived back at Camp, Chiron and the Hunters were waiting. The drive had been quiet. Iphy had curled up in Harry’s lap, wrapping herself around one of his hands. Harry stepped out of the van first.

“Where have you been?” Chiron demanded, his front hoof stomping. 

Then Thalia stepped out, standing up straight, the sunlight glinting off her lieutenant’s circlet. The Hunters snapped to attention.

“So, it was Zoë, then?” Chiron said.

Harry flinched and walked away, his eyes burning. He’d failed. He saw all the campers out on the practice field playing what looked like the demigod version of dodgeball, where they used training weapons instead of the balls.

He turned toward the armory. He sat down behind the racks where he knew Clarisse would always find refuge, hugging his legs to his chest. Iphy slid out of his arms and scampered away. She probably wanted to see the Hunters, as she knew a few of them. 

He let tears fall. This was supposed to be a holiday. Everything he’d done at Hogwarts… it didn’t seem worth it. There was a war brewing, and he was off having fun at school, playing Quidditch, learning magic. But everything had to be kept separate. 

Iphy reappeared, with someone following after her. Harry didn’t look up as whoever it was rounded the racks and found him at the back.

“Oh, Harry,” Nyssa said. She sat down beside him, and someone else dropped down on his other side. Going by their boots, it was Thalia. 

No one spoke for a long time. He lay his head on Nyssa’s shoulder, and she took his hand. Neither girl attempted the lie that it would get better because they all knew it wouldn’t, not for a long time. 

There would be more death before the war was over. They would fail to save people. There would be people who would sacrifice themselves for the greater good of their world. 

And the fucking gods didn’t fucking care.

He felt the rage begin to bubble, the desire to tear Olympus to the ground. He took a slow breath. “What if we just didn’t fight?” he said softly. “What if we just let the gods and the Titans fight, and we didn’t take sides? Let them kill each other.”

Nyssa hummed. “And who’s saying that? Harry or the thing inside you?”

“I don’t know,” Harry breathed. “That’s what scares me.” He sat up, leaning back against the wall, so his shoulder pressed to Thalia’s. “You’ve been rather patient, given everything you’re heard.”

“You told me you’d tell me everything.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m a wizard, the druidic kind. So, I have two types of magic. The school I’m going to is so I can learn druid magic. A psychotic megalomaniac, right up there with Kronos, tried to kill me after murdering my parents, and I’m pretty sure I have a shard of his soul living inside me that’s really bloodthirsty, violent, and all the worst of the Ares traits I have. I also get a bloody nose whenever I overtax Hecate’s magic, and I think the soul is the problem. The knife I gave you is goblin steel and celestial bronze. You don’t have to use it.” He glanced sideways at her. “But I would feel better if you had it.”

Nyssa sat forward, looking over at the newest Hunter. “Don’t the Hunters have arrows that would harm mortals if you shot them? Harry gave me a knife made of dragon bone.”

He spent the rest of the day answering all her questions. As afternoon reached toward evening, the three of them ventured out of the armory. There were piles of weapons outside which meant everyone knew where they were, they were just giving them space. 

The Hunters were scattered around, and they stood when they saw Thalia. Phoebe approached them, stopping in front of Harry.

“Thalia told us what happened.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “Thank you for trying to help Zoë. She said you nearly died.”

Harry blushed. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Thalia rolled her eyes. “It really was. Artemis had to heal you some, or you definitely would have.”

Nyssa scowled at him and punched him in the shoulder, making him wince. He probably deserved that.

Phoebe straightened. “We honor you with the designation of friend of the Hunter of Artemis.”

Thalia smiled. “Doesn’t mean much, but you have our respect.”

Nico saw him and raced toward him, stopping in his tracks when he noticed Harry was surrounded by the Hunters. Harry stepped back. “I’ll see you later.” He looked at Thalia. “Don’t leave without saying good-bye.”

“Of course.” And she led the Hunters away.

Harry joined Nico, and they walked for a while. He wanted to tell Nico about Bianca, but it wasn’t his place. He didn’t actually know what happened. And he was just so damn tired.

“Where did you go?” Nico asked.

“I had a dream, and I thought the quest needed help. I found them, but I ultimately didn’t do anything to help.”

“Did you do any cool magic?”

Harry gave a sort of hum. “I tried. It didn’t work.”

“You look exhausted.”

He huffed. “Understatement. But I don’t really want to sleep.” He didn’t want the nightmares he knew would probably come.

“Harry!” Will’s voice reached him. 

He didn’t even fight the training medic when he dragged him toward the infirmary. Chiron was there to give him a check-up, much to Will’s chagrin, but he allowed it. Then Will gave him something to drink, and Harry felt himself drifting off.

CRACK!

Harry woke with a start. It wasn’t morning. He didn’t bother checking the time as he bolted out of bed. He leapt down the steps outside the Big House and happened upon… he wasn’t really sure.

In the distance, he saw a fissure in the ground with Percy chasing after Nico toward the forest. Harry raced after them… or more specifically Nico. Even after Harry was certain Percy had stopped, he pushed on. 

“Nico!” Harry called, as he caught up with the boy. 

“Stay away!” Nico cried, swinging a hand around, and a whip of darkness shot out at Harry. 

Harry threw up one of his shields, sending it ricocheting to the side.

“You knew!” Nico screamed, more tendrils of darkness spiralling around him. “You knew Bianca was dead, and you didn’t say anything!”

Harry stepped closer. “I didn’t know the details. I arrived after everything was over. She was a hero. That’s what’s important.”

“And do heroes always have to die?” Nico spit out.

“Not always. Sometimes, they live happy ever after, as cliche as that sounds, but they have to fight and claw to keep it. A hero’s life is hard.”

“What would you know?” 

The tendrils shot out at him, and Harry flicked them away. “Not everyone’s story is the same. Not everyone fights the same type of battles. Heroes deal with loss, and it sucks. You hear stories about heroes saving the day, but it’s not always like that. Sometimes, we fail. But we have to pick ourselves back up and keep fighting.”

Nico scowled at him, stepping backward.

Harry sighed. “Go. You need to figure out for yourself who you are. Just know that Kronos doesn’t give a damn about you.”

“Like the gods do?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe they don’t either. But I care about you. If you need someone to talk to, you have me. You can always come find me.”

Nico kept walking backward until he disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

Harry trudged out of the forest, finding Annabeth, Grover and Percy huddled together. They were whispering and casting glances around, until Annabeth saw him.

She hurried over, embracing him. “I thought you were in the infirmary.”

“I was.” Harry looked at Percy. “You told Nico about Bianca?”

“Yeah.” Percy glanced at Annabeth, having some kind a silent conversation.

Harry smirked. “Yeah, I already figured out who his dad was.”

“Really?” Annabeth asked. 

“Underworld kids have this look behind the Mist. Or maybe it’s my magic. Then Bianca sort of confirmed it.”

“What?” Percy gasped. “When?”

“After she died. She told me in a dream. That’s why I came to find you. I thought Thalia was going to die, since I didn’t know you’d be with them.”

“We’re not telling anyone.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, don’t figure that would be good information to get out. Right up there with my being a druid.”

Grover let out a shocked, “Baahh?”

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry woke early two day before Christmas. After Nico had fled Camp, the four that knew what had happened went their separate ways to sleep. They made a plan to sneak into the Poseidon Cabin that night and have a pre-Christmas party with just them and Nyssa, so Harry could hand out their presents and tell Grover everything. Percy and Annabeth were set to leave on Christmas Eve. 

The Hunters were leaving after breakfast, so they were probably already up and preparing. Harry dug through his bag and pulled out enough butterbeer for all the Hunters and an array of magical sweets. 

Iphy popped out of the depths, with a strap in her mouth. Harry pulled on it, and a weathered satchel came out. He flipped it open and found more knives from Hecate’s vault. He raised a brow at her. “Are these from you?”

Iphy chirped, bouncing on her front legs. Harry smiled and loaded everything into the satchel. He slipped out of the infirmary, moving through the dim light of the moments before dawn. 

His first stop was Cabin Eight, but it was spotless, with the sheets piled up for the cleaning harpies. He stopped in the Ares cabin to drop off his bag, taking only the satchel with him. 

Dawn was beginning to light the horizon when he found them in the amphitheatre. Thalia stood when she saw him, walking over to him with her arms crossed. She didn’t wear the typical Hunter’s getup, instead sticking with her normal punk style.

“You’re not going to cause trouble, are you?”

“Not my intention, no,” Harry said with a smile. 

She ruffled his hair. “I wasn’t going to leave without telling you.”

He stepped passed her and closer to the other Hunters, who thankfully didn’t look ready to kill him. “So, I’ve been told that some of you are familiar with Marlene McKinnon.”

Eight of the twelve stiffened, heads swiveling to him. 

“What would you know of her?” Phoebe asked. 

Harry flicked his wrist, and his wand slid into his hand. 

Phoebe stood, eyes wide, stepping closer to him. “Is the war over?”

Harry shrugged. “Sort of. The psycho that killed her… killed my parents, tried to kill me, and now no one really knows what happened to him. My mother says he isn’t dead, but fuck knows where he is.”

“He’ll come for you,” she told him.

He snorted. “Yeah, kinda expect he will.” He put his wand away and opened the bag, pulling out the knives. “These are from Iphigenia.”

Iphy chirped from Harry’s shoulder. 

“Celestial bronze and goblin steel.”

Each of the Hunters took one of the blades, thanking the former princess and scratching her head. 

Harry handed the satchel to Phoebe. “Not sure if you’ll know what these are.”

Phoebe looked inside, and her eyes widened. She pulled out a bottle of butterbeer. Nora saw the bottle and raced over, reaching into the bag. She froze for a moment before pulling out a chocolate frog.

“I love these!” 

“If you find yourselves in Scotland or London, let me know and I’ll get you more.”

Thalia stepped up beside him as the other Hunters sat down and passed around butterbeer and sweets. “I’m going to miss you, kid,” she said. 

“Yeah, me too.” He looked her over. “You look good… happy. You’re more at peace.”

“It was that damn prophecy. I knew about it, before…”

“You died?” Harry supplied. 

“Yeah. I knew who my father was, always did. Grover told me about the prophecy. I… I didn’t want that to be my life. Now it never will be.”

That evening, Harry walked into the Poseidon Cabin. Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Nyssa were already there. He missed Thalia, already, but she was happy, and he couldn’t really fault her for that. He pulled out sweets and butterbeer, passing it around. 

“What’s this?” Grover asked. 

So Harry told him. Everything. Then he told the others about life at school, playing Quidditch, learning magic. He told them about the cerberus living in the school.

“If it’s even a third of the size of the real Cerberus,” Grover said, “There’s no way they can be providing it enough room to thrive.”

“Maybe I can get him out and give him to Hades to give his a friend. I haven’t seen it yet. Whenever I plan to, something comes up. I really want to explore more, but there are so many things I want to— need to learn.”

Annabeth nodded. “You’re schooling should come first.”

Harry shook his head. “No, I mean… would I have been able to help Zoë if I had better skills with healing magic? Would I have been able to find you faster if I had tracking spells? I just… I want to be able to use my druidic magic as fluidly as I can use a sword.”

“You’ve only been in classes for half a year.”

“Yeah, but if that prophecy everyone’s talking about is supposed to be about Percy and it’s when he’s sixteen, we’ve only got a year and a half until the big showdown with Kronos. If you think I won’t use magic in that, you’re kidding yourself.”

They settled on the idea of Annabeth starting to make a list of things Harry should look into, whether there were spells or potions for different situations. But for now, they were going to celebrate Christmas. 

Harry pulled out the Christmas Crackers Sophie had sworn by, and they each collected a few things. Harry and Annabeth both got a set of wizard chess pieces, which Annabeth insisted on breaking in at their earliest convenience. 

The crackers must have some kind of special magic, because everything they got was exactly perfect for whoever won. One of the hats looked just like Grover’s typical one, but when he put it on, it hid his horns without looking misshapen and weird. He also got a set of magical pan-pipes, that would sound like whatever instrument the player wanted them to. He was giddy.

Nyssa got a magical whetstone that would instantly sharpen any blade with a single pass, and a set of sunglasses that shifted into welding goggles with a tap on the frame. She got two straw hats, that Grover ended up eating alongside the sweets. 

Percy got a pirate hat (which sent everyone into fits of giggles). His cracker opened to reveal two little floating orbs of water, with seahorses inside. Percy reached toward one, and the seahorse shot out of the orb on wings. After some excitement, the five of them managed to get the two creatures into the pool in the middle of the cabin. Percy was so distracted by watching them in the water, he passed on doing any more crackers. 

Annabeth, in addition to her chess set, got a magical magnifying glass, which allowed the user to look inside something (like animals or closed boxes), and a compass that would point the holder toward whatever they were looking for. 

Harry needed to get each of them a bag or pouch like the one he had given to Clarisse on her birthday, so they could keep their magical items hidden. Then again, none of the cracker prizes were overly strange given some of the magical items found around camp. But still… It might be useful. 

Finally, they all pulled out their gifts. Harry opened his first. Annabeth get him a book (shocker) on ancient weapons training, since he’d started with the less-common weapons before he left for school. Percy and Grover gave him a bag of sweets, and Percy also passed on Tyson’s gift of a new pair of glasses that would protect his eyes, would never fall off, and repelled water. 

Nyssa gave him a re-supply of all of the things he used to clean and maintain his weapons and a crystal prism (“so you don’t have to look for a rainbow”). She also somehow made a harness for Iphy that looked almost like a leather jacket. Iphy climbed into Nyssa’s lap, and she put her gift on the polecat. 

Then Iphy started chirping and dove into Harry’s bag. When Harry reached in, she pushed a handle into his hand. He pulled out a sword. She chirped again and ran over to Nyssa, trilling at her. 

“Apparently, this is for you,” Harry told her. 

Nyssa took it and pulled it from the sheath. Her brows lifted as she looked it over. “This isn’t celestial bronze. Is this completely goblin silver?” She ran her fingers over the intricate designs on the blade. “Gods, I want to apprentice under them!”

Iphy raced back to Harry’s bag, and he helped her pull out three knives which she had him give to the other three. Before Nyssa could start telling them all about goblin-smithing, Harry handed Annabeth and Percy their gifts. Just like with Nyssa’s book, he translated their books and added a nondescript cover to them. 

For Percy’s book on magical sea creatures, it had the title The Life Cycle of a Sea Cucumber. And his magical water plants volume was supposedly a book called The Best Ways to Keep Your Sea Grass Green. Annabeth’s books had been just as fun to re-title. The Not-Quite Comprehensive Books of Wizarding Britain and Beyond had become A Complete History of Roads and Magical Theory was given a cover with plain block text of Evolution of Plumbing. He’d also decided to give her his extra copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection which he rechristened How Window Glass Has Shaped History. 

Annabeth schooled her face pretty well, even if the smile she gave was insanely forced. Percy couldn’t even pretend. He looked incredibly confused. 

Harry had fun coming up with titles of books that no average person or demigod would be interested in reading, and that would make Percy and Annabeth look weird reading. He tried to keep a straight face, he really did, but when he glanced over at Nyssa, who was fighting a laugh, he broke. 

As the two of them giggled, Percy and Annabeth became even more confused. Finally, through gasps for breath, Nyssa managed, “Look inside.”

When they did, Annabeth beamed. “These are in Ancient Greek! You figured out how to do it?”

Harry nodded. 

Before they could do anything else, there was a knock on the door. Harry got up. “I’ll get it.” He walked toward the door. “I swear, if it’s Will trying to get me back to the infirmary…”

He swung the door open. It wasn’t Will.

Chapter Text

Harry

Of all the people Harry thought he might see, Haseya wouldn’t have even made the list. She was dressed as a muggle, in jeans, boots, and a plain shirt under a dragon-leather jacket.

“Hey, kid,” she said with a smirk at him. “Surprise. Chiron said you’d be here.” She stepped in, tapping his chin. “Close your mouth. You’ll catch billywigs.” Then she closed the door. 

“What… What are you doing here?” he stammered. 

Grover stood, scowling at her. “You smell like blood.”

Haseya opened her jacket and looked down at herself. “Damn, I thought I cleaned up.” She looked at the other occupants of the cabin. “These the ones that know?” She gestured at them with her thumb. When Harry nodded, she continued, “I was in the area at a dragon sanctuary.” She crossed the room and scooped up a butterbeer. “One of their matriarchs passed this morning. She was an Appalachian Stonescale, and we think she might have been around since before the European settlers came here.”

She sat down on the edge of the pool, sticking her fingers into the water. The new residents (the flying seahorses) circled her hand. “Mum’s been at the reserve for the past month. They did what they could to keep her comfortable.”

“And you smell like blood because?” Grover muttered. 

“We’re natives, little satyr. We honor the dead. Every part of a dragon is used in the magical world. If we can keep the market stocked with ethically sourced supplies, it’ll be harder for poachers to turn a profit. Blood, heartstring, liver, spines, bone. With a dragon her size, the local market will be set for at least a year.”

Grover shifted on his hooves. “Was she a mother?”

Haseya nodded. “We think she had a least forty clutches of eggs. Stonescales average two to three making it to adulthood per clutch. Once they reach about two hundred, there’s not much that can harm them. They’re called Stonescales for a reason.”

She summoned a chocolate frog, eating the sweet, and looking over the card. “Hey, it’s Uncle Newt.” She set it aside. “Anyways, with everything at the reserve, we decided to have Christmas on this side of the pond, this year. I checked with Chiron and got you a pass for a couple days. I’m taking you to the local magical shopping center— well, the local native one. I hate the main one. Then after Christmas, if you want to meet Uncle Newt.”

“Can I bring friends?”

“Chiron said you might want to. He mentioned a couple of you were leaving tomorrow.”

Annabeth nodded. “Percy lives in Manhattan, and I’m going to San Fransisco. I’m supposed to get a flight in the morning, though.”

Haseya smirked. “I’ll get you there by dinner.”

“With magic?” Annabeth breathed. “Like druid magic?”

“Well, I guess I could, but since it’s winter, I’ve got other ways that don’t require a bunch of paperwork.” She turned to Harry. “By the way, kid, I’m going to teach you to shadow-travel.”

Annabeth scowled. “But shadow-travel is an Underworld thing. You’d only be able to do that if you godly parent…” She trailed off. “Winter… Your mother’s Persephone?”

Haseya looked her over with admiration. “Athena kid, then. Not officially. I was never properly claimed. But I came about the same way you did.” She stood. “Since we’re all sorted, I’ll be by after breakfast tomorrow. I’ve got to get Sophie from the international portkey station. She might join us tomorrow, but international portkeys are a bitch.”

Harry stood by the tree that had formerly been Thalia’s home, his friends by his side. After his knee-jerk trip to try to save the people on the quest, he’d never actually unpacked anything. So, everything he could possibly need was inside his bag. 

Haseya walked up the hill on the outside of Camp. She was dressed similarly to yesterday, but with her scarf, hat and gloves on. “Alright, kids, ready for an adventure?”

“Hmmm,” came the distinct voice of Mr. D as he appeared next to the tree. “Who do we have here?”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is Haseya. She’s a native witch who went to Hogwarts.”

“And an unclaimed demigod.”

Haseya looked between them. “Is there a problem?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Mr. D is just being annoying.”

“Annoying, is it, Harvey? How would you like to spend some time as a grapevine?”

“I’m sure my parents wouldn’t take issue with that,” he deadpanned. He looked back at Haseya. “This is Mr. D. Not as exciting as when you met Hestia, but it could be worse.”

Then she seemed to make the connection to things he told her previously. “Mr. D? As in Dionysus?” She floundered for a bit, looking like she was considering bowing to him. 

Harry turned back to the god. “We got permission from Chiron already. Besides, the only ones you might actually care about are me and Nyssa, and we’ll be back later. Oh, and tell your wife I say hi. It was very nice to meet her on the solstice.” He gave Mr. D a smirk. “You certainly married up.”

Mr. D sputtered for a moment. Harry could understand, that’s why he said it. Yes, Mr. D had been a god and had given his wife immortality, but by many accounts, Ariadne was a kind and well-liked goddess on Olympus, and that hadn’t changed from when she was mortal. 

Harry laughed and walked away. He heard Mr. D mutter something that sounded like “mouthy little shit” but didn’t pay it any mind. The god wasn’t wrong. 

Haseya extended her hands. “Hold on. And don’t hold your breath.” So they did as she said.

Harry felt a thrill wash over him as he felt himself lose solid form. Darkness flowed around him, and it was calming. When they landed, Grover toppled over, losing one of his shoes in the process. Percy and Annabeth staggered back to lean against the wall of the alley they’d arrived in. 

Harry looked at Haseya. “That was amazing.”

She laughed and handed a small piece of ambrosia to Percy and Annabeth, and a tin can to Grover. “A satyr friend of mine said these helped his stomach.” Grover bleated out his thanks and ate it.

“Who do we have here?” Sophie said. 

Harry turned around to see her standing at the mouth of the alley, bundled up against the weather. He waved at her and made introductions. Sophie led them out onto the street, where venders had stalls set up outside shops. 

Haseya bought them all warm, non-alcoholic, mulled cider, spelled to keep the large cup from getting cold. They walked around, with Annabeth bombarding Sophie with dozens of questions. They neared a Gringotts branch, and Harry ducked inside to withdraw some spending money. 

Griphook appeared, ushering him into a side chamber. “I was going to send you a notice that I had complied the information you requested.” He held out a large file. “As your family account manager, it’s my opinion that it would be a smart investment, however, I doubt it would be one your guardian would allow.”

Harry stood there for a moment. “Give me a moment. I’ll be right back.” He returned to the street. He found Annabeth and Sophie engrossed in a conversation. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Sophie.” He dragged he a few steps away. “How much do you charge for legal advice?”

“Depends on the topic. If it’s for you, I’d need an agreement with your legal guardian.”

“Consultation then?”

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know. This is the second time my account manager has brought up my legal guardian regarding my finances, and he can’t say more.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I can do a free consultation.”

They walked back into the bank and the office where Griphook waited. She extended her hand to the goblin, and his brow raised when she locked wrists with him. Harry watched as she spoke in a language he didn’t know, and Griphook responded. 

“I’m Sophie Kowalski. I’m here for my client, Harry Potter. Please, explain the situation to me.”

“Mr. Potter approached me to compile information on a potential investment, however I cannot proceed with anything without his guardian’s permission, as he isn’t of legal age. You understand the delicate nature of the situation. And as he isn’t of legal age, I can give no more information than that to him.”

Sophie gave a soft hum, letting her gaze drop as she thought. She saw the file on the desk and turned it to look at the name of her company on the front. 

“I see the situation is problematic, and quite complicated in a legal situation if even a goblin of your reputation and standing can’t find a loophole. Thank you for your time.”

Harry deflated a bit. He was hoping there would be some way to get around things.

“However,” Sophie said, “I have a separate matter. Are you taking on new accounts?”

Griphook smirked. “I might have to pass a few of my smaller accounts to associates. However, if your account is worth my time…”

“My wife and I run a company, and we have been searching for the right fit for an account manager. As we are hoping to turn it into an international business, it would be remiss of me not to take advantage of this situation.”

Griphook nodded. “I shall have the necessary paperwork drafted up and delivered to you later today.”

“And as we seem to have a potential business partner, it would be ill-advised not to look into their background further. And as our account manager, would you be able to dig a little deeper into the background of this person?”

“Only in as much as to not compromise the integrity of this institution and the security of this potential business partner.”

“Excellent. Once we review the contract, we will reach out for a meeting.” She said something else in the language Harry didn’t know, and Griphook departed. 

Sophie scrubbed at her face. “This is why I never went into family law. All the bullshit with titles and guardianship and lordships and house seats. I’m going to have to pick up some books.”

Harry picked up the file, sliding it into this bag.

“Also, don’t feel like you have to do anything more than you want to, or anything at all. It’s just the best way to give me a legal foothold to wedge a few doors open. I don’t know if I’ll be able to help. My family doesn’t really have much standing in the political scene in the UK, but I know families with the Potter status are complicated. At least you’re not sacred twenty-eight, that would be it’s own shit-show.”

They walked back outside, where everyone was waiting.

“Everything alright?” Haseya asked. 

“We’ll talk later,” Sophie said, kissing her cheek. “We’re about to be in for a fight.”

Haseya grinned. “I love a good fight. Who with?”

“I’m not sure, yet.”

Chapter Text

Harry

The group moved through the crowd, Haseya and Sophie buying various treats for them all to try. Harry couldn’t keep up with all the names of things he was tasting. 

When they found a shop that sold bags and trunks, Harry dragged them inside. He insisted on buying each of his friends a bag to hold their magical items. 

Percy went for a similar belt pouch that Harry had gotten Clarisse before the start of the school year. Apparently, he had trouble not losing his bags. So, Harry got him one that would hold five items and a box he could leave in his room or cabin where he could store the things he didn’t need to keep with him all the time. 

Annabeth grabbed a plain, yet sturdy satchel, ever practical-minded. He made sure there was a pocket like he had, where she could keep things that only she could remove. 

Grover picked out a rucksack that advertised to be near indestructible. He was going in search of Pan, had heard him calling, so he needed to be prepared for anything. 

Nyssa picked out a brown, leather bag that sat against her leg like a holster. Metal studded belts wrapped around her hips and thigh. There were chains and rivets shining and dangling from it. 

Harry smiled. “You’re a closet steam-punk fan.”

Nyssa blushed, ducking her head in a way that her hair would have hidden part of her face had they not been held in place by her hat. “Shut up.”

“Any chance of a corset in the future?”

And she punched him in the stomach hard enough he had to gasp for breath. 

“I deserved that.”

Then Iphy, who had been sitting inside the warmth of Harry’s jacket, snaked her way out, bit him on the ear, and leapt toward Nyssa, who caught her easily.

“Hey!” Harry protested. 

Iphy chirped at him with a scowl on her face and slid into Nyssa’s coat instead. 

“Traitor.”

Nyssa giggled. 

Harry made his purchases, and they left the store. As they went, he made some of his necessary stops, picking up ink and parchment, and there were even pens and notebooks for sale. He picked up plenty of those. The American druids actually adapted with the times, a bit. Another stop was an apothecary where he stocked up on a few of his potion ingredients. 

Annabeth caught a glimpse of the bookshop, and she was inside before anyone could say anything. Percy rolled his eyes while the rest of them laughed, following after her. Sophie disappeared to the second floor to find a few books for herself. 

Harry wandered the shelves, perusing the titles. He should find a book on tracking spells. That would have come in handy with finding the people who’d been on the quest. 

And healing. Would he have had better luck with helping Zoë had he used druidic magic instead of Hecate’s? Or maybe potions. He could find a book on healing potions. Those might be good to have in stock in general, given the fight that would be coming. And it was unlikely Kronos and his allies would wait for Percy’s birthday. 

He found a few books on healing and potions. Maybe he could talk to Madam Pomfrey. She might have need of an assistant. But would she accept the help of the first year? Percy Weasley could be an option. He was exceptionally studious and a perfectionist, if Ron’s incessant whining about his brother was any indication. But would he ask why Harry was interested?

“Looking into potions?” Sophie appeared over his shoulder. She stepped closer, looking at the book in his hands. “Oh, Harry, you’re far too young to be worrying about this sort of thing, but Haseya says there’s trouble brewing for you. If you need a place to brew things, I can clear out one of our store rooms. And I was decent when it came to potions if you need help.”

They finished up in the book store. Annabeth and Nyssa both had a couple books that they insisted they would pay him back for, but he refused. 

As they made their way through the streets, everyone seemed a bit lighter than they had in days. Harry rounded a corner and walked into an old man in a long blue coat. He quickly apologized. 

“Harry Potter!” the man cried. 

“Uncle Newt?” Haseya said. “What are you doing here?”

The man, Newt Scamander, beamed, pulling Haseya into a warm embrace. “Lovely to see you, dear. What are you doing here? Did you see this? It’s Harry Potter!”

Sophie snorted, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We know, Newt. We brought him and his friends out for a day of shopping. He’s visited our shop.”

“I’m just headed to the apothecary. Francine is still out of sorts. I wish I could figure out what was wrong with her.” He stopped and looked over all of them. Then he sniffed, leaning closer to Grover.

“Did you just smell me?” Grover said, forcing down a nervous bleat.

“A satyr?” Newt breathed, glancing at Haseya. “These are… they’re like you?”

Haseya nodded. 

“Mr. Satyr, would you help me with something? I have a friend in dire need of some kind of medical aid, but… I don’t know how to help her.”

He led them away from the shopping plaza, toward a wooded area. 

“Just a warning,” Haseya whispered. “My family can be… a lot.”

“I heard that!” Newt called back. He waved his wand and a suitcase appeared on the forest floor. 

They gathered around it, as he opened the lid. Whatever Harry had expected, it hadn’t been a spiral staircase leading underground. 

Newt descended with a practiced ease, calling, “Haseya, could you be a dear and close the door when everyone’s inside? And reactivate the enchantments?”

Annabeth looked over at the demigod-witch. “You’re family has a fallout shelter?”

Sophie chuckled. “It’s a bit more than that.”

Grover inhaled, brow furrowing. “I smell food.” He ventured down first, and the rest of them followed. 

Harry looked around as they reached the bottom of the stairs and came out into a bright, warm sitting room. There were sofas and chairs arranged around a blue-flame fire. A pudgy man with a gray mustache sat, snoring softly in one of the chairs. Through a wide archway, there was a kitchen and dining area, with two older women buzzing about, cooking, with things flying around. 

One of the ladies turned toward them, opening her mouth to speak, and froze. “We have guests.” Then Sophie and Haseya stepped into the room. “Has! Soph!” She rushed out of the kitchen and swept them both into an embrace, kissing their cheeks.

“Hi, Grandma,” Haseya said with a smile.

“Tina!” Newt called to the other woman. “They’re here to help Francine.”

“They’re kids, dear,” Tina said with an annoyed yet fond look on her face. 

The two women looked very similar, but Queenie (Harry was only guessing there) had sharper, more pointed features, with her pale, grey hair in an elegant twist that would make any Aphrodite girl jealous. Tina’s features were a bit softer, and her hair was a darker shade of grey, left in a simple braid. 

The man, who had been asleep, jolted awake at Newt’s enthusiasm. “What’s going on?” He looked around, blinking owlishly. “Ah! My girls!” He clambered up and embraced Sophie and Haseya just as warmly as Queenie. 

Sophie tried to make introductions, but Newt waved her off. “That can wait. Francine’s this way.” He grabbed Grover’s arm and dragged him through a door. 

Harry had seen a lot in his few months in the druidic world, and the year at Camp before that, but the vast mountainside with sky and sun and grasslands was still a shock. 

“What is this?” Annabeth breathed. 

Then the sky clouded over, and thunder and lightning clashed. Rain began to fall. Then a massive golden bird soared overhead, snapping claws and beak at them. 

Grover let out a shocked bleat and leapt behind Newt. 

“Francine, do settle, dear,” the old man said. “I’ve brought some help.” He glanced back at the demigod audience. “This is a thunderbird. I rescued her from some poachers a couple weeks ago, but I can’t release her until I know she’s healthy.”

Francine the Thunderbird landed on a rocky outcropping in front of them. Grover took a hesitant step closer. “What’s the problem?”

He listened to the thunderbird screech and continued asking questions and giving reassurances. Then he gasped. “She’s egg-bound.”

Newt cried, “What?”

“She says she’s been fighting laying her eggs because of the poachers, and she wanted to have them somewhere safe. She’s been trying since being here, but… well, she can’t.”

Newt pulled out his notebook. “There has been some speculation among magizoologists who have been studying these amazing creatures, that part of the egg incubation and development happens before they’re laid. Mr. Satyr—”

“You can call me Grover.”

“Grover, what do we need to help her?”

Newt led the satyr off to some work room, speaking to each other in quick phrases. The rest of them returned to the living area, where snacks sat on the table. Harry shed some of this layers since the Scamander… home? Yeah, home seemed to fit, was pleasantly warm. 

“You want to see more?” Haseya asked. 

“More what?” Nyssa asked. 

They were led out another door and everything stretching on and on and on. A chuckle from beside them made them all turn. 

“Most of you aren’t like these guys, are ya?” the mustached man said. “Yeah, I’m not either. Took some getting used to.” He looked over at Haseya. “You’re not breaking any laws are you?”

“They’re like me, grandad.” Haseya smiled at him. “Same Camp and everything.”

“No kidding. You haven’t been back in a while.”

“A lot’s changed.”

He nodded. “Oh, if you find Rolf and Raymond, send them up. They’ve got chores to do.”

Haseya gave him a lazy salute and led them out into the menagerie. 

Chapter Text

Harry

Harry followed after the group, who were excited to see the other creatures living in the Scamander menagerie. Annabeth and Haseya talked at length about the creatures and the science/magic behind the space in general. 

They reached an area that was set up as a vast lake. Two boys, no more than ten clambered out of the water, soaked to the bone. 

“Has!” they cried and bounded over to them. 

One was nearly a head shorter than the other. Haseya introduced them as Rolf (the taller and older of the two) and Raymond.

Haseya conjured them towels. “So what are you doing in the lake? You have chores.”

Raymond wrapped his towel tightly around himself. “We’ve only seen the one kelpie for a while. We were trying to find the other. We’re just not that good at holding our breath.”

“What’s a kelpie?” Percy asked. 

Something shot out of the water, shaking its head. Harry could only stare at the creature. It was large and green and looked more seaweed than animal. It made a sound, looking right at Percy.

“Oh, that’s a kelpie.” He stepped closer to the water. “Where’s your friend?” 

The kelpie whinnied, throwing its head. 

“What? Really?”

Annabeth put a hand on Percy’s arm. “What is it?”

Percy grinned. “His mate is about to have a baby.”

The Scamander clan stared at him. “Really?” Rolf asked. “I’ll get the others.”

The two boys took off. Percy climbed down to the edge of the water and dove in, the kelpie doing the same. By the time the others arrived, Percy was back on land, grinning like an idiot. 

Newt was fretting, because he wanted to be there for both his creatures. 

“She’s still got another day,” Percy told him. 

“How could you know that?” Tina asked. 

Percy glanced at Haseya, who shrugged. So he answered, “Comes with being the son of Poseidon. You know, horses, water, swimming, kinda my thing. Can I stick around until she has the baby?”

“Don’t you need to get home to your mom?” Annabeth asked. 

Percy winced. “Yeah.”

Sophie turned contemplative. “I could argue for her if things get complicated. Come on, kid. We can go pick her up.”

Annabeth went with them. They also said they’d take care of letting Chiron know of the extension to their trip. 

Everyone returned to the sitting room, where Queenie had cocoa and cookies, freshly baked. Harry sat on the window seat by the… well it wasn’t really a window, but at the same time it was. It was a window-snapped opening from the living area out to the reserve. 

Haseya sat down beside him, a mug of something not cocoa in her hand. “Something’s happened to you, hasn’t it?”

“It was… Kronos pulling strings. He got Annabeth, and used her to trap Artemis. And there was a quest, and people died. I tried to help, and I failed. And it’s just…”

“A lot.”

“Yeah.”

Harry woke Christmas morning to the smell of breakfast. He pulled on his sweatshirt and walked into the sitting room. Queenie was the only one there, buzzing around the kitchen, humming and waving her wand. 

“Good morning, Harry,” she called, then she turned. “Sorry about your friend.”

“My friend?”

She gave a slightly pained smile. “Sorry, I can’t help what I see. I’m a natural legilimens. I read minds. I caught your nightmare, so I took down the silencing wards around your room to try to wake you gently. I know Newt and Tina sometimes need it.”

“I don’t remember what I was dreaming about.”

“In your dream she died and became stars.” She gave him a soft smile, this time. “The things our mind creates.”

He sat down on one of the stools. “Look again.” He showed her what happened. 

Her eyes widened. “Oh my.” She shook herself. “You should never have to witness something like that.” She sat a cinnamon roll in front of him. 

“Oh, well isn’t this nice.” At the voice, Harry turned to see Sally Jackson walking into the kitchen. “I’m usually the one making everything.” She was in warm-looking pajamas and fuzzy socks, an oversized sweater wrapped around her.

“Not here, you won’t,” Queenie said. “No one should be alone on Christmas.”

“That’s what Jacob said. Apparently I’m invited to all holidays from now on.”

“Yeah, neither he nor I have much family outside Tina and Newt and all the kids, even when we first got married. He doesn’t like when people are left alone. Oh, Harry, I almost forgot. A few owls brought you some gifts over by the tree.”

“Do I have to wait?”

“Oh, not if you don’t want to. When the boys get up, they don’t wait for anyone.”

The other demigods trudged in, following the smell of food. Harry took his gift pile. He opened a small, hand-carved, wooden flute from Hagrid. Hermione sent him a box of chocolate frogs. There was a parcel from the Weasleys, a box of fudge and an emerald green sweater. He tried the fudge, which tasted amazing. It was very nice of them.

The last parcel… Harry couldn’t figure out who it was from. He pulled off the note, reading it aloud. “Your father left this in my possession before he died. It’s time it was returned to you. Use it well.”

“Who’s it from?” Annabeth asked. 

“There’s no name.” Harry opened the gift and found silvery material inside. He lifted it. “It’s some kind of cloak.”

“Oh, sweet Merlin,” Newt said from the doorway. “That’s an invisibility cloak.” He rushed over and took the edge of the material in hand, looking it over. He continued to mutter about something called a demiguise and the fabric being off, and something about a Dougal.

As everyone finished the tea or cocoa and various breakfast foods, Grover stumbled in, looking exhausted but grinning. “Newt! It’s happening! Francine’s about to lay her eggs!”

Newt and Grover raced off. 

Everyone else ran after them, leaving Harry alone with Sally Jackson. She moved to sit beside him. 

“Percy told me what happened. I’m sorry you all had to go through that.”

“Percy and Annabeth had it worse, holding up the sky and all.”

“Just because they fought a Titan doesn’t make what you’ve been through any less traumatizing. I never wanted this life for Percy, and it’s terrible that any child must go through what you, demigods, go through. And you’re a… a wizard, too?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. “But—”

“But nothing. You are wonderful, and powerful, and you’ve had far too much thrust upon you.”

Harry looked away, his eyes burning. “What do you know about… my world?”

“Not much.”

“There’s a prophecy, by a druidic seer, about me. I don’t know what it is, but…”

Sally pulled him into an embrace. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She already knew about the existence of the magical world, so he told her everything, even some of the things he hadn’t told his friends, some of his fears and worries. And she listened. She offered words of understanding and encouragement and…

Was this what it was like to have a mum?

Chapter Text

Harry

As the evening of Boxing Day (not that the Americans among them called it that) drew closer, the non-magicals prepared to leave. Grover and Newt had plans to keep in touch, especially because Grover wanted to see the baby Thunderbirds, three of them, when they hatched. 

Percy was of the same opinion, especially after he helped Newt deliver the baby kelpie. Percy also really, really wanted to take the three kelpies with them to the canoe lake, but Harry reminded him that the rest of Camp didn’t know about the druid world. And apparently, the baby couldn’t be moved out of the body of water where she’d been born until she was at least two years old. 

Everyone sat down to eat at the table. Harry smiled as the people from the two sides of his life got on so well. Queenie, Jacob, and Sally talked food and baking. Tina, Newt, Raymond, Rolf, Percy, and Grover spoke at length about creatures of various types. Nyssa, Sophie, and Haseya were talking about the shop and the possibility of expanding beyond dragon-centric retail. Annabeth hit it off with Haseya’s grandparents, Albert and Bly, and her mother Aiyana about politics and gods know what else. 

Sally checked her watch. “Oh, dear, I need to get home. I have a meeting with my classmates in the morning, and I need to finish some work.”

Everyone reluctantly finished conversations and said their farewells. Harry made sure all of his things were packed. Then Haseya led them all outside and extended her hand. “Next stop, Camp Half-Blood.”

They landed, via shadow travel, by the tree. Harry nearly groaned when he saw Mr. D standing there. 

“You’re late.”

“You were informed,” Harry muttered. 

“Disrespectful brat.”

Harry smirked. “Always. Now, are you going to keep us here on the hill, or can we head to our cabins?”

Mr. D jerked his head toward the main camp. Harry turned back to Haseya.

“I’ll see you back at school,” she said. “I’ll teach you a few things.”

Harry stepped closer and embraced her. She stiffened for a moment, but returned it. Then he, Grover and Nyssa returned to Camp. 

Harry walked into the Ares Cabin. 

“Where have you been?” Phil asked the moment they saw him.

“Yeah, we were beginning to worry,” Michael added. 

He stood there for a long moment, looking over his adoptive brothers. Not that they knew it. As far as they knew, Clarisse had taken him in, but…

“You okay?” Trevor asked from his place sitting on his top bunk.

Harry looked over his brothers. “I want you to swear on the River Styx you won’t tell anyone anything I’m about to tell you.”

All five sat upright, suddenly very alert. Phil reached for his knife.

“It’s nothing to do with Kronos,” Harry added. He sat down on Clarisse’s bed, crisscrossing his legs. “It’s about my school.”

Phil’s hand fell from his knife. Before they could say anything, there was a scream from outside. “SNAKE!”

Yang stood, picking up his sword. “I’ll kill it.”

Harry extended his hand, shooting Hecate magic as him, slamming him back down onto his bed. “You don’t kill them. They’re just looking for some place warm. I’ll be right back.”

He walked out and found the Aphrodite kids gathered outside their cabin. They had to give him directions, because it had crawled under one of the bunks. Harry army-crawled under three different bunks, because they didn’t know exactly where the serpent was. He rolled his eyes at the small red-belly snake he found curled into a coil in the corner beside a box of make-up. 

“Come here, you. I know you’re cold, but I can take you somewhere warm and safe where you won’t have to worry about frightened demigods, yeah?” He extended his hand, and the snake slowly slithering into his outstretched palm. 

He wiggled his way out from under the bunk, careful not to jostle the snake any more than necessary. As he walked outside, a trio of satyrs arrived, probably to help wrangle the snake, since Harry wasn’t around much anymore. 

Satyr-Harry saw him and grinned, trotting over. “Human-Harry! You’re back!” He saw the snake in his palm. “Back to saving the snakes, too.”

“Yeah, can you take him somewhere safe?”

One of the other satyrs, one Harry didn’t know who was introduced as Simon, took the snake with gentle fingers, muttering to it, and he and the other satyr raced off. 

“Are you alright?” Satyr-Harry asked. “There’s been some talk that you’d been through something since you arrived nearly a week ago.”

“Yeah, well, I tracked down the quest and couldn’t save Zoë. And I learned some things about myself I haven’t really had time to think much about.”

The satyr put a hand on his shoulder. “If you need to talk, you know I’m around.”

Harry tried to give him a smile, but it felt forced, and he nodded. When he returned to the Ares Cabin, the other five inhabitants looked up from their conversation. 

“So this oath on Styx,” Phil said.

“I’m not ready for most people to know yet, and I certainly don’t want Kronos knowing.”

So, the five swore an oath of the River Styx not to speak about what he would tell them to anyone else until Harry told them.

To start, he pulled out sweets and threw a chocolate frog to each of them.

“Awesome,” Zeek said. “British candy.” He opened the package, and the frog leapt onto his face. He gave a loud scream, flailing backward. 

The others drew blades, ready to jump in to help him, while Harry cackled. He opened his own frog and caught it as it jumped. He bit the head off, and it fell still. “It’s just a spell.”

“A spell?” Trevor asked, carefully opening his own and catching the frog. “This is chocolate? That jumps like a real frog?”

“Only has one proper jump.”

“And this is a normal candy in England?” Zeek sputtered, pulling the chocolate off his face.

“It is in the Wizarding World.”

All five Ares kids froze.

“Come again?” Michael asked.

Harry pulled out six bottles of butterbeer and passed them around. They each drew a knife and popped the caps off. 

“Are we going to get in trouble for this?” Phil asked, taking a sip. He looked at the bottle. “Fuck, this is good. What is it?”

“Wizarding world beverage.” He took his own drink. “So, I’m a wizard.”

Zeek snorted. “Yeah, Hecate kid and all that.”

“Different kind of magic.” He pulled his wand and shot sparks. 

“You’re going to tell Clarisse, right?” Michael asked.

Harry grinned. “Funny, that. That’s the first thing everyone asks. Yeah, she knows. She was also the first to know that… we’re siblings. Like Ares fully adopted me.”

So, for the fourth time since he returned for break, he ran through the other side of his life. Or maybe it was the sixth. Did Zoë and the Hunters properly count? Ehh, whatever. 

They all had various questions, which he answered. He found it funny, if a bit predictable that everyone he told had questions that were typical to their specialty. Annabeth asked about the education, the politics. Nyssa was curious about weapons after she found out about the goblin smiths. Percy and Grover asked about the magical flora and fauna. Thalia wondered about the spells and the power dynamic. 

The Ares kids… it was all fighting and dueling and combat. He wasn’t surprised at all, really. He told them about Malfoy and the dual challenge. 

“Jackass,” Sherman Yang muttered when Harry told them how Malfoy had set him up. 

“Yeah. I knew it was a set up,” Harry told them. “My roommate wasn’t smart enough to figure that out.”

Trevor sat forward. “Did you really say you went for first blood?”

“Yeah, freaked him out some. I don’t think he took me seriously. Maybe next time, I’ll break his nose, just so he believes me in the future.”

They stayed up late, talking. Sherman Yang wasn’t so bad. He seemed to have had a rough childhood. He didn’t really trust people outside his brother, because his mother was abusive. He took most of the beatings, until they’d been taken by CPS. They’d been separated, and that hadn’t sat well with him. Then he’d been found by a satyr, the day Harry started classes. 

The other four Ares kids had weaselled their way into his trust, so when Harry had showed up, he’d immediately gone on the defensive. So, Harry couldn’t really fault him for it. It might take a bit of time, but he figured they’d come to some kind of understanding.