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Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form, and neither the OCs, if somebody wants their names or abilities, just use them.

AN-1: After a teaser in two different updates,  The Son of Storms  is finally here. Also, I think I promised in the first chapter of  Wolves in the Wilds  that I won't pick up another story, and I swore it by my laptop's motherboard.
Thankfully, there are two loopholes. First, I am no longer using that laptop, and second, WIW is being pushed back into the side-project range, like how  Unchained  was once upon a time.

AN-3: For the edits, this time I thank the regulars, Lordlexx and Rezurex, alongwith the esteemed HPfanfictioner66 and a wonderful guy named HadesReynes (who is also the beta for this story).

Now this is the last AN, but I think this is the most important one:

This story will be Harry-centric for the most part, since Percy will be born decades later, so the people who like to read stories where Percy comes to Hogwarts and saves Harry's ass or is the best sorcerer…please, this is not the place for you.

Secondly…as is with Ascension, Unchained and Phantom, I will be taking this fic more seriously than the WOT and WIW, so if you feel like Harry is too OP, or there are plot holes…rest assured that I am aware of them.

I read my work three times before it gets to the editors.

Ichor.

The blood of Immortals.

Golden and a little more viscous than mortal blood, it was not only the lifeblood of gods, but their essence itself. When an immortal, despite however powerful they were, was drained of their ichor to the last drop while in their physical forms…their death was assured in the metaphysical.

And their death meant fading. Being erased from the very existence, and cast into the realm of the faded. Or the abyss of chaos, as it was called.

In the thousands of years the Olympian Council had been upon Gaea, they had never seen an Immortal fade because of the sheer damage their very essence had taken.

Gods didn't have souls like the mortals. Their flesh and blood were too enriched with energy to die of physical injuries. Even Kronos, after being cut to thousands of pieces, had survived in the pits of Tartarus, just like Ouranos before him had survived the butchering of his physical form.

One simply couldn't kill an Immortal physically and expect him to fade.

But yet, as the head of the King of gods was bashed against his own throne's armrest, again and again, Hestia was forced to revise that thought. Especially because every droplet of ichor coming out of her youngest brother was being absorbed by his assailant, the golden blood sparking with her brother's divinity as it sank into the skin of the demigod pulping Zeus' brains.

Besides her, Hades and Poseidon stood with stoic expressions, their auras flaring dangerously in a warning to anyone who might want to interrupt the happenings. Poseidon looked ready to skewer Ares with a trident in his hand, while Hades looked all too happy to keep Athena's face down on the ground under his heel.

Her sisters stood a few meters away, their faces ashen with horror as they witnessed Zeus' state. Hera, in particular, looked scared for her husband, but remembering his unrepentant infidelity over the eons had her cheering for his attacker too. Behind them, the youngest of Zeus' Olympian children watched with fright and no small amount of shock as their all-powerful father was reduced to whimpers and broken coughs.

Artemis had tried to rush to her father's defense when all of this had started, Athena being just a step behind her half-sister…when Poseidon and Hades had decided to teach the second-generation Olympians a lesson on why they were counted amongst the Big Three. Now, with her bow broken into pieces and her face almost shattered under Hades' fist, Hestia almost worried for her niece. Almost.

After all, Artemis' actions from years ago certainly played a part in today's events. And then, her eyes glided over to Hephaestus, for he was too someone who had a share in the atrocity Zeus had committed. But now, the Forge God was looking at the state of his father with a seemingly expressionless look, however, his hand clutching the handle of his warhammer tightly as his eyes flicked between Zeus and his executioner betrayed his true emotions.

While certainly better than Ares…Hestia knew that Hephaestus was neither as good, nor as big a victim as he was usually seen by the mortals. Sure, Hera did throw him off the mountain, but as a god with major domains, Hephaestus easily could have changed his body if he so desired. He wasn't the god of the maimed, tortured, and crippled. His body didn't have an innate connection with those domains, so the body he kept was obviously something he chose. Not like Zeus' eyes were normally electric blue and his beard usually looked like a particularly bad thundercloud.

Not like how Hades looked apathetic to everything—much like the dead were—or even not like Aphrodite, who despite however many orgies she may have led in a single run, never looked anything less than her perfect self.

On the topic of the love goddess, Hestia turned towards the daughter of Ouranos…and sighed at what she saw. Utterly unconcerned with how her boyfriend had been laid out in a single strike from Poseidon, or how Zeus was being brutalized, Aphrodite only had the eyes for the black-haired man turning Zeus' face to a pulp.

She sighed again at the flush that had traveled down all the way to Aphrodite's toes, and the sheer hunger in her glowing eyes. She was not on bad terms with the love goddess, in fact, after Hades, it was Aphrodite she got along the most with. But…her wantonness was certainly concerning, especially because if the dem-god accepted her advances, then her nephews might very well fade at his hands as well.

By the Void, she hoped Ares and Hephaestus wouldn't be so foolish as to invite his wrath—though, equalling the magnitude of the folly and blunder Zeus had committed was something she was sure would remain unequaled for a long time, if any would ever equal it.

Deceiving your brother's paramour and making his child half your own was something only Zeus was capa-had been capable of.

He was five years old when Harry realized that there was really something freakish about him. Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley to the school's swimming pool, and Mrs. Fig had been away…so she had been forced to take him along too.

It was there that, for the first time, Harry thought, maybe his relatives were a little freakish too. Because of the twelve boys that had been present on the edge of the pool, no one had been as fat and chubby as Dudley, whose belly had already started to pour over his sides…and no one had been as skinny as he had been, since he had probably shown almost all of his bones that day.

His increasingly obvious malnourishment aside, when Harry had stepped into the pool—more like Dudley and Piers had pushed him—he had felt…warm. Warmer than he had ever remembered being, which was frankly speaking, not a high bar considering the baggy clothes and the tattered blanket he had.

The pool water was supposed to be cold. It was cold. But yet, when he felt the water on his skin, all Harry could feel was the comforting warmth the likes of which he sometimes felt in his dreams. It had taken him barely more than a minute before he was already copying the motions of the instructor, and swimming across the width of the pool without any problems.

Every single parent, and even the instructor had praised him…but he had only seen the murderous glint in Aunt Petunia's eyes and the jealousy in Dudley's

However, in that one moment, he hadn't been stunned because of the impending scolding he was sure to receive. He hadn't been scared that it could perhaps exhale into a beating. No. Harry had simply been stunned that he had swum for hours, and felt not even remotely tired.

Thanks to his insufficient diet, he had always been a weak child, getting tired easily and having just a skeleton for a body. But that day? That day his skeleton of a body had swum continuously for two minutes, and his arms hadn't felt like they were going to fall at any moment!

That day, Harry realized that he was freakish, and his freakishness somehow involved that swimming pool.

However, he never got to enjoy that pool again. Uncle Vernon made sure of it.

23 December 1984

"-re speaking right from the hospital, Charles. It has just been confirmed that Beryl Grace, a rising superstar in Hollywood has given birth to a baby girl. However, despite the good wishes and congratulations being sent to the mother, she is already being harassed by some of her fans for having a child even though she is unwed."

"Thank You, Dav-"

"Bloody insane the lot of them!" Vernon grumbled as he switched the television off, biting into the roasted chicken savagely, "All unwanted rejects we left behind, and look how good that decision was. A superstar in Hollywood and yet goes on to have a bastard."

"I am fucking sure his father was one too, eh Vernon?" Marge cackled at her own words, Vernon and Petunia laughing right after her as Harry served a second helping of the chicken to them. "Though, given that his mother was a whore, not too surprising she got knocked up in the school and had a bastard. Who was the boy's father? Some sailor right…hmph, seems like it is true after all. A sailor always knows where to find a whore."

"Too right," his uncle grumbled in response. "And even then she was not satisfied,. Blasted bitch had to go and get herself blown up along with her new husband, and this bastard was left at our doorstep."

"Should have thrown him," she sneered, chucking the bone in her hand at his head, "At least he would have not been a burden on your finances and home. Tell me, Vernon, is he still an ungrateful little brat?"

The wine glass in Marge's hand exploded at that, and Harry barely controlled the liquid in the bottle and the remaining two glasses. Ignoring the shrieks of his aunt and uncle, and the smug words of Marge about her strong grip…Harry instead clutched the kitchen platform with all of his strength, feeling the water inside the whole house rumble and swirl with fury.

At that moment, Harry felt angry at himself. More so than he had ever felt for his relatives even. Here he was, six years old, with an unexplainable control over water, the ability to somehow crack light bulbs… but he was still here. Working like a slave for his family, and then getting beat up by Vernon and Dudley for it.

Gods, how easy it would be just to go full Darth Vader on his family and will the water in their bodies to freeze them while he ran away from Privet Drive…but he couldn't do that. As sad and as bad as it was, he didn't know that first thing about living in the streets, except for the fact that little kids like him shouldn't be there all alone.

But would- "FREAK! Get over here and clean this mess!"

Of course.

Taking a cloth, Harry started to wipe away the wine from the table and floor, hearing the brother-sister duo continue to insult his mother and father both. They talked about his birth father having the good sense to throw his mother after using her for a night, about how his step-father must have been a dunce and a fool to marry his mother even though she got knocked up by another man.

They talked about how his birth father must have seen what a good-for-nothing freak he and his mother were, and that is why he left them for good.

They never saw the neon blue glow start to come from his eyes as he glared down at the floor…and neither did they feel their hair stand on the end as thunder started to rumble in the clouds above.

"Lord Hades," a winged shadow said as it appeared in the Lord of the Dead's throne room, foul glowing balls in the palm of its hand. "The Celtics just sent four souls to me, they were killed in Surrey, London."

"Why would Arawn do so?" He arched an eyebrow, looking down at the four souls. Three adults, one child…all staunch Christians, and therefore they fell under the dominion of the Celtic god of Death instead of Hel's, "They are not Greeks."

"But they were killed by one," Thanatos replied as he stood up, his wings disappearing with wisps of darkness. "Thunder fell from the sky on their house, and they all were burned to ashes along with the two houses in their vicinity."

"What did they do to incur Zeus' wrath?" Hades chuckled, summoning the man's soul to his hand as he examined his life, "Did the man fuck someone my brother had his sights on?"

"It was not the King of Olympians that did this, My Lord," came the slow, quiet response, and it took Hades a moment to parse through what the god of Death had said, "It was a child of six years that called down the thunderbolt."

The whole Underworld shook strongly a moment later, and even the Elysium felt the wrath of Hades as his eyes turned into the darkest pits of black imaginable. The souls suffering in his robe screamed more loudly than ever as his fingers tightened over Vernon's soul, and with a shrill scream of maddening agony, the Dursley was forever lost to the folds of Hades' personal dungeon.

"What in the name of Chaos did you just say, Thanatos?"

"The child…seems to be the son of the lord of the Skies, My Lord. However," Thanatos flicked his palm and brought up an image of a skinny, emerald eyes child, "He is not depicting the usual features of the children of the Lord of Olympus—the blue eyes and the aquiline nose, along with the constant presence of avians around them. Therefore, it is also likely that he is a progeny of your other brother."

"That is quite possible," Hades muttered as he reigned in his power, the Underworld calming down instantly as the Earthquake that had almost devastated Los Angeles stopped. "Poseidon's kids are as mercurial as they come, and he does have power over storms. It wouldn't be impossible for a child of his to use that facet of his powers."

"Shall we depart then, My Lord?" A female voice asked, the large, winged woman hanging upside down on the ceiling of the room, "It would be an honor to bring the child of the Sea in front of you."

"No." He intoned, smiling slightly as the shadows in the hall lengthened, "Poseidon has never done wrong by my children, and I will not do the same. He broke the Oath to have this child, so the Fates will punish him in due time by themselves. Why get myself involved when I can just watch Poseidon's spawn suffer and dance to the tunes of his father's folly? Let the boy live..for when he dies, I will have all Eternity to have my fun."

"And when the King comes to know of this?"

"Then we shall see how much of my brother his spawn has inherited," Hades laughed, conjuring a goblet of ale and raising it in Thanatos' direction, "After all, we both know how…stubborn and tenacious the Peverells were, Ignotus even more so."

"Hey, that is my chocolate!"

That was all Harry heard before someone punched him in the back of his head. Falling on his face with a shout, he cried out as his chin met the pavement, and the chocolate slipped from his grasp.

Tears welled up in his eyes from the burning sensation and the pain in his chin, and he turned on his back so that he could look at the boy who had punched him. Clothes with holes, unkempt hair and smudges on his cheeks, the boy looked like he had just climbed out of a gutter—which was not far away from his own state, Harry realized.

Brown eyes glared at him fiercely as the boy kneeled down to pick up the chocolate, clutching it protectively to his chest as he stood up. "I saw it first! It is mine! Go find yours somewhere else!"

"But I didn't find anything in the bin today!" He protested, rubbing his scraped chin as he stood up, "Can't you share it with me? Please, I will give you back a bar of chocolate when I find one again!"

"Get away from me," the boy cried out, backing away, "I will not give this to you, so go away before I fuck you up!"

"What does that mean?" Harry stopped, his eyebrows scrunched up as looked at the chocolate and then at the mouth of the alley, wondering if he could grab the thing and make a run for it.

"I don't know," the boy replied, taking a backstep yet again as he too looked at the exit, "But I heard some man say it to a woman before he pushed her against the wall and she started to scream while he choked her, so I will fuck you up! Then you will never try to take my chocolate!"

With that, the boy turned around and ran away swiftly, Harry following after him a moment later with a surprised "Hey!". But the punch to his head, and the barely reduced malnourishment came back to haunt him once again, as Harry could scarcely take a step after a few dozen meters. His chest burning with exhaustion as his breaths came in short gasps, Harry glared at the back of the boy moving farther and farther away from him with each passing second.

His stomach cold with hunger, and his feet in pain due to the running, he felt anger burn inside him as once again, someone took away his food and left him hungry. With a shout, Harry kicked the pavement, wishing with all of his might for that chocolate to come back to him—Dudley also did the same everytime! Whenever Harry had found something lying around in the house, a leftover piece of chicken, some candies…he always took them all!

However, before the tears in his eyes could drop, he felt something appear in his hands. Something familiar. Not wanting to believe it, especially after what had happened a week ago in Surrey, Harry still couldn't control his eyes from wandering down to his right hand…where that chocolate—which had just been snatched from him—was there as if it had never left his hands.

31 July 1986

"Another year done," Harry mumbled to himself as he sat on the wooden deck of an old ship rotting away on the Western shoreline of Britain, "Eight years old now, with four murders and God knows how many steals."

"Well…I have seen many demigods kill humans well before they are of age, but eight is certainly a rare number."

"What the hell?!" Harry shouted as he turned around, his right palm lighting up with pale blue flames while his left started to crackle with electricity, "Wh-What are you?"

"Me?" The horned, goat-legged, coat-wearing thing in front of him chuckled, waving a perfectly normal hand at him, "I am a Satyr. Gaphrus, they call me. I am…a spirit you can say, and I guide demigods to Camp Half Blood so they can learn what it means to be one, and stay safe."

"A Demigod?" Harry frowned, his hands still not lowering as he flicked his eyes over the 'Satyr', "Is that what I am? Son of a god?"

"You are quite readily believing my words," Gaphrus frowned, "Usually I have to summon some flowers or spend a lot of time making orphan kids believe me."

"I have never seen anyone with powers like mine," he shrugged in response, snuffing out the flames and the lightning in his hands before bringing them back, "I already knew I was different than the rest, being a demigod is as good a reason as any, sure beats what my relatives always called me. My aunt and uncle always said that I was a freak."

"I always told Chiron you need to find them young," the thi-satyr muttered as he walked up to him, looking at him up and down while Harry did the same, "Well, young demigod, one of your parents was a Greek god, and therefore, you must come with me to a place called Camp-Half Blood."

'Don't tell him about your father Harry,' a soft voice suddenly whispered in his head, making him jump in his place as he wildly looked around, 'Don't panic. I am not going to hurt you child, but you must not speak of your birth father until you reach the safety of Camp Half Blood.'

"What is your name, child?" The satyr's voice broke him out of his panic, and Harry looked at him warily, wondering why he was the only one able to hear the lady's voice.

"Harry," he answered, dispelling the flames and lightning for good this time, "Harry Potter."

"Well, Harry Potter," the satyr smirked as he snapped his fingers, and his horns and goat legs disappeared in place of normal human features. "Let's get you to the camp, now shall we?"

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO.

AN-1: I am so happy for all the positive responses this fic has received, and I hope that this one continues to please you guys over its journey to completion.

AN-2: As always, a big thanks to my editor LordLexx, and my beta Hades, who both have done great work on this chapter.

"I still don't understand which god is your parent for you to have both fire and lightning," Gaphrus remarked as they sat upon the back of a grey Pegasus the satyr had. "Maybe Lord Apollo? A few of his children over the millennia have shown aeromancy, would not be too strange if one of his children got lightning instead."

"But you told me his children always have blond hair and blue eyes, or at least one of the two," Harry pointed out, reading the book on Greek Mythology the satyr had given to him. "Can it be one of the Minor gods? One who probably looks after the storms?"

"Hmm, quite possible," he nodded in response, "but that would bring your fire abilities to question, and no disrespect, but the children of those known as minor gods are nowhere near as powerful as you at eight years old. And I still don't understand how you have telekinesis. I have seen demigods summon objects with the Mist or aeromancy, but nothing like what you are capable of."

"My aunt and uncle always said I was a freak," Harry shrugged in response, reading about how Poseidon married Amphitrite to make peace between him and Oceanus. "Maybe they were right."

"That is something Chiron can only tell you about Harry," Gaphrus sighed, before he looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "I think you might want to close that book and drop it in my bag child. We are about teleport, and I would hate for that book to get torn up because an inch of it was outside the Pegasus' capability."

"Okay Graphus." He nodded and stuffed that book inside his bag, before he looked at the wings of the horse he was sitting upon. "Wait, what do you mean teleport? Isn't this thing going to fly?"

"Well it can fly," he said, patting the side of the majestic creature, making the winged-quine neigh and snort. "But I don't think it is wise for us to stay out of the Camp's protection any longer than necessary. When a demigod learns about his true nature, the latent divine energy inherited from one's divine parents starts to seep faster and faster into their bodies. And th-"

"Why does this divinity seep faster into demigods after they learn of it?"

"I don't know about that. I am a nature spirit, not a demigod or even a minor god, Harry, but acknowledging who you are has a profound effect on your mental self, it's not so much of a stretch that it would have one on your spiritual self as well." Graphus explained patiently, tugging on the reins of Pegasus, as the creature trotted forwards while flapping its wings slowly, the satyr continued. "Regardless, now that you have learned about your divine blood, your aura will condense and grow day by day, which means the monsters will be able to sense where you are. And make no mistake Harry, you are a powerful demigod. I was able to feel you from over a kilometer away, and now that you know about what you actually are, it is only going to increase. Once we are within the boundaries of the Greeks, monsters will chase after you like bloodhounds every time you are outside the camp… and therefore you need to learn how to wield weapons, how to fight monsters, and how to use your powers."

As Graphus started to talk about the Camp in detail, Harry listened with only half his mind, the other half more preoccupied with the feeling of leaving the ground for the first time in his life. Gripping the saddle tightly, Harry watched with wide eyes as the beach beneath him became more and more distant with each passing moment, the Pegasus ascending rapidly through the air.

He giggled a little as the Pegasus banked sharply, and the right wing's feathers tickled his nose. As if feeling his joy, the Pegasus neighed loudly and tossed its head, doing a little more elaborate movements as it journeyed higher and higher into the air.

The next second, the world blurred around him for just an eyeblink, like there was mist all around him—and before Harry could even see what Pegasus teleportation looked like, they were hovering just beyond the shores of an island…with the beach below him nowhere to be seen.

"Where is the beach?!" He cried out, turning back to make sure he wasn't imagining things, but all he could see were the blue waters of the Atlantic stretching upto the horizon. "Why didn't I feel anything?"

"Other than flying, Pegasi can also…travel instantaneously over the Atlantic Ocean, and some parts of the seas surrounding it," the satyr said, waving a hand at the ocean around them as the Pegasus began to glide towards the island. "But it is so fast over the waters that I just call it teleporting."

"Wow," he gasped, looking down at the grey equine with stars in his eyes, "Must be useful when you have to go to Europe."

"Yes, although, demigods nowadays mostly come from the States only." he said, and they touched down on the sandy beach, "Now, we shall first go see Chiron. He is a centaur, and has been training demigods since the Ancient Times, so be respectful."

"Isn't he a son of Kronos?"

"Harry," Graphus gasped, turning around and slapping his palm over the boy's lips with an alarmed, terrified face, "What did I tell you about taking an immortal's name?!"

Before Harry could even begin to understand what was happening, a chill enveloped the entire area, and the wind stopped moving in its entirety. The waves which had started to recede back into the Atlantic froze midway, and the birds flying above it too became stationary. But it was not Graphus' horrified exclamation or the sudden stoppage of everything around him that caught his attention first.

It was the sudden explosion of fire that came from the forest on the island.

The Pegasus reared back loudly, and unused to sitting on horseback, Harry fell off the magical animal on the beach. Thankfully, a cushion of seaweed and sand prevented him from any injury, and Harry quickly stood up as more and more explosions began to come from Camp Half-Blood.

"Monsters must have entered the camp once again," Graphus said from above him before he jumped down from the Pegasus. Pulling out a small metal tube from his satchel, the satyr handed it to him, "Take this and think about a weapon. At least having something on hand is better than having none. I am going to assist my kin, you go and find some demigods to stay safe behind."

With that, the satyr ran into the forest and disappeared amongst the trees, while the Pegasus nudged him once with her head and flew eastwards too. He stood there dumbly for a few moments, wondering about what to do with the piece of shiny steel in his hand…and as the waves behind his ankles resumed once more, Harry took his first step into the Greek World.

Chiron was not having a good day.

With the stress of having the Hunters of Artemis and Children of Apollo nearly pepper each other with arrows once again, he had been about ready to drink some of Dionysus' best…but of course, the Fates had other plans in store for him. He had just received the return confirmation from the satyr that had left for Europe yesterday when monsters had made their presence inside the camp known.

Gathering up his bow and quiver—which thankfully never ran out of arrows for him, a gift from Lord Apollo—he had run outside the Big House, where the Ares and Hermes cabins had already started to form together. The Apollo and Aphrodite cabins were just behind them, with the Demeter cabin beginning up the rear, and given the shouts and screams he could already hear from the forest, Chiron knew where the Hunters of Artemis were.

Galloping into the trees, he shot three arrows within an eyeblink, nailing the hellhounds creeping upon a rather young Huntress' back without even looking as he continued on. Arrows flew through the air like rain as the archers of Camp Half-Blood too entered the fray, killing and dissipating monsters into golden dust left and right.

Right after shooting a cyclops in the eye, Chiron swiftly grabbed another arrow from his enchanted quiver, swung out with it like a dagger, and stabbed a dracaena in its throat. Wrenching it out of the monster's throat, he took aim on another one as he kicked a hellhound with his rear legs, caving in its head and sending it back to Tartarus. Taking note of the monsters all around him, Chiron grit his teeth and started shooting arrows at a pace unmatched by any in the camp.

Save for the Lieutenant of the Hunt, the Daughter of Atlas.

She ran through the branches and the trees just like her Patron, her silver knives and glint of her arrowheads only visible once there was no chance for escape. Taking the eye of another cyclops and then its life, Chiron took stock of the battlefield. Ares and Hephaestus' cabins were in the thick of it, swords and spears and hammers swirling and cutting through the air as they tore through the monsters, their golden ashes falling to the earth as if it was by Khione's blessing.

"CHIRON!" A voice shouted, the immortal centaur turned around swiftly to find the little girl running towards him. The five-year-old girl had just been a few feet away from him, her little knife in her hand when a large tree trunk came soaring through the air. It all happened in slow motion for him, his immortal blood once again becoming a cause for sorrow.

The giant trunk hit the back of her head, and he could see every microsecond of how her eyes bugged out, how her face bulged outwards…and how her skin cracked before her head and half of her torso was gone in an explosion of blood and gore. The rest of her body fell right after, but on the dewy grass…her lower body slid all the way to his hooves, blood pooling out from where her lungs and stomach should have been—but all that was left was an empty husk, her intestines having spilled along the ground.

"ESTER!" Almost a dozen people screamed at once, but Chiron only had eyes for the destroyed corpse of the little girl who had come to the camp when she had just been in her swaddling clothes. The daughter of the Forge god had been a bright thing, cheering up everyone with her smiles and wide eyes…but that won't happen anymore.

All because these fucking cyclopes entered the camp again.

All because Lord Zeus had once again refused his petition for a barrier around the camp.

"Archers!" He shouted, knocking an arrow and killing the cyclops grinning at the death of Ester with a shot to its throat, "Take formation behind the Ares and Hephaestus cabins! And Aphrodite cabin, use your charmspeak to make the monsters stop in their place, or at least slow them down! Demeter cabin, coordinate with the Satyr and the spirits. Bind the hellhounds and the Cyclopes!"

"Hunters! Attack at will, take out the Dracaena first," Zoe shouted right after him, giving him a nod before she ran off into the trees. "Kill these monsters in the name of our Lady!"

However, before he could move up to the elevated platforms meant for him in place of watchtowers, a burst of fire exploded out from the forest a few hundred feet away from him. The flames reached a height more than enough to clear the canopy of a hundred feet, and the poisonous yellow color clued him to what had entered the demigods' home.

A Higher Drakon.

More than a hundred and fifty feet of coiling, sinuous, building-crushing strength, with a poisonous breath and devastating flames. Scales that even celestial bronze would struggle to pierce through without the strength of fifty elephants behind the attack, along with teeth and claws that had shredded more armor than any war in the history of Greeks and Romans combined. The trees were rapidly set ablaze, dying shrieks of the spirits within echoing in the forest amongst the screams of the monsters and demigods alike. From where he was standing, Chiron couldn't see the Drakon, but deciding to be helpful in any way he could, he started to shoot down any monster in his sights.

However, despite how many monsters he and the archers on the watchtowers killed…the real danger was always on their minds. The Drakon was advancing through the forest unimpeded, the majority of campers and hunters still busy with the hellhounds and dracaena and thus, the massive reptile was facing minimum resistance. The Satyrs were more busy trying to save as many spirits and as much of nature as they could than fight the monster…not that they would have been any useful with the way they had let themselves waste in the last few centuries.

And where in the name of Chaos was Lady Artemis?! Her hunt clearly considered upstaging the campers a bigger priority than at least slowing the Drakon down! Even from here, he could hear them taunting the campers and making fun of Lord Apollo's children.

"The Drakon is coming out of the forest!" Julia shouted from the tower to his right, and Chiron let the arrow on his string fly, before he shifted and laid sights upon the Higher Drakon that had invaded the home of his children today—and promptly wished that he hadn't.

A torso, and two pairs of legs were hanging out of its closed mouth, a silver parka and remnants of the blood-soaked Orange shirts telling him about the gruesome fate their wearers had suffered. Bits of intestines were still stuck to its lower jaws, and its whole maw was covered in blood, giving its already crimson-eyed head a much more terrifying face. Its paws were similarly bloodied, dirt and grass sticking to the large weapons of murder, yet they were unable to hide the red upon its claws. Even from this far away, Chiron could make out the bits and pieces of cloth and flesh stuck to various sharp points on the Drakon's body, from the spines on its back to the whip-like tail it had…the Drakon had completely butchered through the demigods that had tried to stop it.

As it tripped the wire laid outside the treeline and a vat of Greek fire blew in its face, he was finally able to make out the hundreds of injuries and wounds littering its giant body. A bleeding gash there, a dented set of scales there with arrows at almost every third foot. It was slightly limping from its right hind leg too, Chiron noticed, right at the moment the explosion of jade green flames dispersed into the air and the Drakon's face was revealed.

Or what was left of it.

A large chunk of its upper jaw was simply gone, torn away from its head along with the right part of its lower ones. Its purple blood fell to the ground in large splashes, the earth sizzling and burning due to its acidity as the Drakon let out a loud, guttural roar. The force of it was enough to remove a hanging piece of its gums away from its mouth, and Chiron grimaced as the Drakon whipped its tail in pain, tearing through dozens of trees at once—and killing the dryads within instantly.

"FOR ARES!" Melania, a fifteen-year-old girl shouted as she ran towards the disoriented Drakon, her large greatsword raised with fire swirling at its edge. The aged Centaur shouted out in a warning towards the demigod, but by then it was too late. She slipped upon the puddles Drakon's blood left on the ground, and a blood-curdling scream came out of her throat as her skin began to burn and drop off her body. Like a moth to a flame, the monster was drawn to her painful, soul-searing shrieks…and with a speed belying its gigantic size, the Drakon pounced upon her screaming, already melting body. There was nothing but a bloody smear left upon the churned-up ground once the Drakon moved forwards, the torn clothes and remaining flesh sizzling and melting away into the dirt.

With a shout of rage, Chiron and the archers all around started to pepper the Drakon with arrows, with the Greek FIre ones finally usable, and thankfully, the archers inside the forest too came to their help. A heavy groan came out of the monster's throat as Greek Fire exploded all over its mangled face, the magical flames burning through its flesh and bone and tearing open even more of its already ruined skull. Its eyes were the next to go, its lethargic movements and the damaged layer over its pupils allowing the arrows to sink inside with a burst of blood and clear fluid.

With lumbering, heavy steps, the Drakon rumbled in its throat, the insides of its brain and jaw muscles visible for all to see as green embers ate the monster. With a loud shout, someone launched another exploding arrow, the green flames painting its trajectory as it shot right into the ruined eye of the Drakon. With an explosion of brain matter, purple blood, and pieces of its flesh, the head of the Higher Drakon was no more…and the headless corpse twitched slightly in its place for a moment before it fell to its side.

However, even as it died, the Drakon took more than a dozen demigods with it. Its acidic blood, which had been blasted high into the air, came back down in heavy drops. The demigods closest to the beast fell to the ground screaming as the blood rained down on their faces and neck, eating through their skin and muscles and turning their screams into gurgles…before there was nothing but silence.

The earth shook as the large reptile fell, its gigantic body already dissolving away into gold dust which spread over the whole area, covering the disfigured bodies of the demigods in a shroud. Grief was something Chiron was long familiar with, the thousands of years he had been alive had more than made sure of that, but as he watched the wails of grief come from the demigods and Hunters alike for their fallen brothers and sisters…it still felt as raw as the first time he had witnessed one of his children die. Some things aren't meant to get easier.

Zoe Nightshade came to a stop beside him once he reached the ground, her stony face glaring at the golden dust as they both stood in silence, and it struck Chiron that other than him…Zoe was the only one who could comprehend how he was feeling.

"It never gets any easier," he muttered, looking at the tears streaming down everyone's faces. "How many Hunters have you lost this year, Lieutenant?"

"Twelve till this morning," she replied, taking out a cloth and rubbing the blood off her knives, "But after this battle…I think at least twenty more."

"Where was your Patron, Lieutenant?" He said after a few moments, the sharpness in his words surprising even him for a moment, "Why wasn't she here despite the several audible prayers I heard, spoken by her Hunt no less?"

"Careful Chiron," she spoke slowly, her dark eyes glinting in the fading sunlight, "That is Lady Artemis, an Olympian Goddess thou are insulting."

"Apollo is my witness today, Huntress," he snarled right back, standing up to his full, rather impressive, height and glaring down at her. "I, and dozens of my campers, heard your hunters bicker childishly with the demigods over hunting skills in the middle of a monster attack. Let the Olympians summon me if they wish, for I have had enough of your righteous, arrogant bullshit."

Thunder rumbled over their heads at those words, and with a flash of light, both of them were standing in a large, opulent hall. However, Chiron was so used to the precious metals, the overabundance of beautiful gems and paintings that decorated the throne room of the Olympians it didn't even register with him.

His eyes were only upon the Olympians, their large forms seated on their thrones as they all looked at him and the former-Hesperide. He bowed down to Zeus and Hera, the monarchs of Olympus looking as majestic and imperious as ever as they sat in the center of the council.

"Lord Zeus, Lady Hera," he greeted, raising his head to look his half-brother right in his electric-blue eyes. "May I assume the reason for our sudden summoning was the attack on Camp Half-Blood?"

"You assume correctly," Zeus muttered quietly, but it was enough for the whole sky above Manhattan to rumble. "Artemis has taken offense to your words, and the tone in which they were delivered…however, Apollo, Demeter, and Aphrodite have supported you and demanded action against her. That, along with your millennia of service and unfailing devotion has allowed you to air your grievances in regards to this matter. Therefore, we want to hear it from you Chiron, what exactly happened in the Camp, and what quarrel you have with the Hunt."

"Father!" Artemis interrupted, glaring at him with her silver eyes glowing and her fingers tightening upon her throne. "Chiron has not only insulted me, but he has also outright insulted my Hunt! He called them self-righteous bullshitters, as if the gir-"

"Shut up Artemis!"

The Moon Goddess instantly did that, her jaw dropping open as her brother, the ever cheerful Apollo nearly exploded into his divine form. His eyes were nothing but burning stars like the celestial body he was the god of, and Apollo nearly cracked the marble of his throne as he walked toward his sister. And while Chiron only had the eyes for the visibly furious Sun god, he could see how the rest of the council was interested in the forthcoming argument.

"Your girls what? Dear sister," he practically spat out, pointing a finger at Zoe, "Your girls what? They aren't self-righteous bullshitters?! That may be true for you Artemis, because you have always liked to assume that you and your handmaidens practically shit rainbows!"

"Apollo…" Artemis growled out, her own eyes erupting in a blazing silver fire as her bow materialized in her hands, "Take care of your words little brother, one more word about my hunt, and I wi-"

"And you will what? Artemis?!" He snarled back, taking a step forwards as his armor formed over his toga, and a sword appeared in his right hand, "Fight me? Need I remind you of the fact that who is stronger between us? I am the god of Sun and Knowledge sister. I know all and I see all, so unless you want your face to lick this floor and your defeat to become the latest news upon Olympus, you will stay quiet and let Chiron speak…Otherwise, I swear on our mother's name that I will roast each and every one of your hunters to a crisp for the millennia of insults I have tolerated from you and them both!"

"You won't be alone in that," Aphrodite's voice came next as she flashed next to the Sun god, and Chiron groaned internally as he felt her control over hate start to mess with everyone in the hall. "Her stupid, little bitches got more than twenty of my children killed today. You will answer for this Artemis!"

"Why do you even care?!" Artemis shouted right back as she stood up from her throne, "It's not like both of you care! You can just go after this meeting to have more of your kids like rabbits you both are! And I don't answer to you slut! Don't you dare assume that you can command me to do anything, especially when all you can do is act pretty and get fucked by anything with a cock!"

"Enough!" Zeus shouted, stomping his leg and shaking the entire hall with his rage as he glared at the three gods, "Apollo and Aphrodite, return to your places. Quietly."

"And Artemis," he turned towards his daughter, every word conveying his displeasure as clear as anything ever could, "as Apollo said, sit quietly and let Chiron speak."

"Yes..Father."

Once there was a semblance of normality in the hall, Zeus nodded at Chiron, and the aged centaur lowered his head as he trotted forwards towards the center. Returning his bow to its place back in the Big House, he looked at the burning hearth in front of him and prayed to Hestia to support his words once the ruckus would inevitably restart.

"Last night, Lady Artemis and her hunters came to the Camp, and as is their ritual, they all stayed in her cabin," he began, nodding towards the Moon Goddess, "This morning, Lady Artemis had already left before the Hunters came to the breakfast, and thus, she was unavailable to…control her hunters when they started to behave like they normally do when she is away."

"And what is their normal behavior?" Poseidon asked, looking at Zoe and Artemis both before he turned towards him. "I assume it is still the same as you told us five decades ago."

"Yes, Lord Poseidon," Chiron nodded, sighing as he looked down. "They insulted Lord Apollo's children over their lack of archery skills, and derided the children of both Lord Ares and Lady Aphrodite over their appalling, disgusting and laughable talent in combat."

"Which still does not warrant the severity of the words you said Chiron," came the reply from Zeus, who frowned slightly. "Even if they were serious with their comments, it doesn't warrant someone controlling them like they are animals."

"No, My Lord," the centaur shook his head, "It doesn't. However, once the monster attack started…I heard several hunters shout toward demigods about how they were not upto the task, or how they better leave the monsters to someone who could actually kill them. It wasn't every hunter true, but it was certainly enough that several of the campers got killed due to confusion and chaos created by their jeering and interruptions. Also, I heard several Hunters pray to Lady Artemis for assistance once the Higher Drakon appeared, but she never did answer them. We killed the Drakon eventually, but the casualties would have been much lower had she decided to assist us today. Once the Drakon was finally dead, I called out Zoe Nightshade on where her Patron was, and how her hunters' childish actions caused more deaths than what.. should have happened."

"Why didn't she hear the prayers?" Demeter frowned at the Moon Goddess, "Especially when it is only her hunt she listens to."

"What are you trying to say, Demeter?!" Artemis exploded out of her seat, her bow drawn back, and pointed at the Goddess of Harvest and Weather, "I never heard any of those prayers, or I would have answered them in an instant! And don't you dare ever insinuate that I neglect any prayers offered to me!"

"Your stance about what childbirth requires and means for a woman's worth in your eyes tell that pretty well Artemis, O Goddess of Childbirth and Children," Dionysus drawled out, lazily curling a strand of his dark hair on his finger, "Besides, Old Chiron is right. I have no doubt that your hunters, arrogant little things that they are, did all of that."

"Be quiet Dionysus," Zeus snapped, lightning flashing in his dark blue suit as thunder flashed above New York, dark clouds rolling in over the whole city. "Why Artemis didn't hear the prayers will be investigated later. For now, it is clear that the Hunters have crossed the line over what is considered acceptable and their arrogance needs to be curbed. Therefore, my verdict is this; For the next six months, the Hunt will protect the Camp upto the third wall, so that the Campers can rest and recover from this attack. The Demigods will patrol only the innermost, fourth wall, and if any Huntress tries to move against my decision, then she will be evicted from the Hunt and the Camp both."

"Father!" Artemis gasped, turning towards Zeus with an alarmed look on her face. "I mus-"

"SILENCE!" He shouted once again, this time actually summoning his Master Bolt to his hand, "I am not finished daughter. For the next six months, the Nymphs and Dryads at the camp will no longer serve any food to you or your Hunt. Moreover, For the next five years, you are prohibited from recruiting any Huter to your service that is already on her way to the Camp. You may provide her the safety of your Hunt until she reaches Chiron, but no mention of joining you will be made. Am I clear?"

"Yes…My Lord," she bit out, clearly unhappy with the decision, but powerless to stop it, "It will be done as you have commanded."

"I am not yet finished," he raised his palm, "Since the competition between your Hunt and the Camp has gone long enough, we will let the matter of superiority between you two be decided in a peaceful way. Have a game organized, which utilizes your strategy and combat skills without causing bloodshed…and this better be the end of it. Council Dismissed."

With a snap of Zeus' fingers, Chiron once again found his world filled with nothing but brightness, and then he was back in the Big House. Sighing at the task that awaited him, Chiron picked up the bottle of alcohol on his table and took a large sip before he walked out of the room into the Camp.

Apollo and Demeter campers were busy tending to the wounded—and of course, they were refusing to help the Hunters, who had seemingly had a shortage of healers. Ares and Hephaestus cabins were carrying the wounded and the dead to the Hearth, where they would be wrapped in shrouds and sent off to the Realm of Hades to be judged. He would need to have a meeting with Satyrs and the Dryads about their fallen, and the damage the forest had suffered. After that came the task of sending letters to the mortal parents who had actually cared about their children—which was frankly…a disheartening low number. And then he would have to break the news about the upcoming 'Games' to the camp-

"Chiron!" Elena, a daughter of Aphrodite, ran towards him, and his eyes widened as he saw a boy in her arms. "Found this guy near the shore when I went for a perimeter sweep. He was unconscious and was bleeding badly from a cut above his right eye. But Charles fixed him up quickly and then I brought him here—Oh! And he had this with him!"

Taking the black-haired child from her arms, Chiron looked at the weapon Elena held out toward him. It was something he had seen before, Chiron was sure of it…but for the life of him, he couldn't place the origins of the beautiful silver Xiphos. Deciding to check up on the weapon later, he turned the face of the sleeping child towards him…and dread filled every fiber of his being.

After thousands of years of knowing him and his children, there was no way Chiron wouldn't recognize Lord Poseidon's face.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO.

AN-1: I am so happy for all the positive responses this fic has received, and I hope that this one continues to please you guys over its journey to completion.

AN-2: As always, a big thanks to my editor LordLexx, and my beta Hades, who both have done great work on this chapter.

To read and know about the NEXT FIVE CHAPTERS, join my discord.

Blinking his eyes open, the first thing Harry saw was a large painting of a golden-haired, golden-armoured, golden-eyed man standing over a giant snake.

A very large, very mean-looking, dead snake.

"That's my father," a girl spoke from his right, and it was only his years of exposure to sudden sounds that prevented him from screaming his head off. Turning his head, he blinked as a blond girl looked at him with a wide smile as she pointed at the painting. "That painting is of when he slew the Pit Snake."

"Abigail, let the boy breathe," a much older boy said as he walked in, carrying a small bowl with him. "After I have seen his injuries, you can take him to Chiron. Okay?"

"Okay Michael," she chirped and bolted out of her chair, her golden curls bouncing wildly before she disappeared out of the door. However, before even a moment could pass, she stuck her head back in and frowned at Michael, "Hey brother? Do you know where Ester is? She said she was going to create new arrows for me!"

"Ester…is dead Abigail," the older boy declared softly. Not looking his sister in the eyes as she sat down in her place, "They are about to burn the shrouds by the beach…head there. I will be coming along shortly."

"Oh." the girl blinked, squeezing her eyes shut. "I…I will go then."

"Dozens of demigods were killed in today's monster attack," Michael softly said as he waved a hand and a spoon appeared in his hands. "You sure picked quite a day to come here…err, what is your name?"

"Harry," he said, sitting up with the blond's help. "Harry Potter."

"Well Harry Potter," the teen flashed with a blindingly white grin as he shoved the golden soup inside the small bowl under his nose, "Drink this up if you can move your hands, or I will feed it to you. After that, we will go to the Burning of Shrouds…and then you will meet Chiron."

"The Centaur?" He asked, taking a sip of the soup and shuddering as the taste of chocolate filled his mouth. Looking at the decidedly not-chocolatey-looking liquid, he licked his lips and frowned "Why is this chocolate golden?"

"It is not chocolate," Michael smiled. "It is a soup of Ambrosia and the water from the purest of underwater springs. Good for rejuvenation and clearing the cobwebs from the mind…don't heat it though, it is terribly explosive."

"But why does it taste like chocolate?" He asked once again, taking a bigger spoonful than the last and sighing happily, "Ambrosia…is that a type of chocolate? I have never seen a golden one."

"No," he laughed, opening the drawer on the table beside him and pulling out a golden-brown cube. "This is Ambrosia, food of the Gods. Demigods consume it in small quantities to heal, and it tastes like your favourite thing—a gift from my father because little kids like you usually fussed due to its originally bland taste."

"Woah," he looked at the cube with wonder, before he caught up with the rest of Michael's words and frowned. "I am not a kid. Kids need their parents to look after them, and I lived alone in London for two years."

"You are not alone in that," he laughed, lowering the collar of his shirt to show a pair of long scars. "A dracaena cornered me when I was about your age, and I burned her away with an arrow of sunlight. Not before she gave this to me though."

"What is a Dracaena?"

"The thing that caught you on your shoulder," came the answer, and Harry blinked as the image of a disgusting, pale…mixed together woman flashed through his mind. "They have poisonous claws, and the older one is, the more potent its venom becomes. I was probably scratched by one of the oldest, given that this scar has not disappeared even after years of Ambrosia and Nectar."

"So, mine was a kid?" He asked, pulling up his—new—shirt's sleeve and seeing nothing that indicated an injury. "She was pretty big though."

"Monsters are like that," Michael chuckled, standing up from the chair and eating the Ambrosia as he walked to the painting of his father. "Chiron tells us the Python was hundreds of meters long and his mouth was wide enough to swallow a large building whole. So finish that soup Harry, you need your muscles to be big and strong for when the monsters come after you."

Positively gulping down the literally divine soup, Harry jumped off the bed and felt a pleasurable heat spread throughout his body like he was next to a bonfire. Nodding as Michael raised an eyebrow at him, he followed the older demigod out of the room, only to emerge out in a large grassy land.

"How long was I out for?" Harry asked, looking at the long shadows and the red sky, "It is the evening, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded at him and started to walk to their left. "Come on, the Burning must have started by now. After the Shrouds have been sent off into the sea, you can get your tour of the Camp."

"So…what was the thing that was roaring so loudly?" he asked curiously, spotting the destroyed treeline a couple of hundred feet to his right and remembering the monstrous roars and explosions of fire that had come from the forest. "Was it a dragon?"

"Drakon," Michael corrected, "and it has several subspecies too. The one that attacked us was a Higher Drakon, amongst the deadliest of its kind. Thankfully, our traps proved effective against it…but the bastard still took several of us down."

Looking at the utterly wrecked landscape around where the Drakon seemed to have exited the forest, Harry gulped once, imagining the humongous body that must have rampaged through the area. Even now, after several hours had passed, the smoke was still coming off from the trees in the distance, black clouds rising up in the coppery sky with orange embers burning within them.

"What are the wolf-like things called?" He asked, the shadows between the trees reminding him of the way those large, red-eyed wolves had jumped at him after he had stabbed that Dracaena. Thankfully, a black-haired boy with a large sword had jumped between them and cut them all down, though he had lost consciousness before seeing anything else, his last vision being that of golden dust falling upon him.

"Hellhounds," he answered, shuddering a little as he looked at the shadows around them. "Probably the worst nightmare of any inexperienced demigod, since they can travel through shadows…and you are never without one. I went on a quest two years ago, to recover a sword rumored to belong to Lord Ares from the Alaskan border. There, one of my teammates got swallowed up whole by a hellhound, which had emerged right from beneath his feet like a shark."

Gasping a little at the image of the hellhound which must have been large enough to swallow a human whole, Harry gulped and looked down at his feet. Suddenly, the darkness of the alleys and rooms he had spent the last two years in didn't seem so fun anymore.

"Here we are." Michael's voice broke him out of his thoughts, and Harry blinked as he suddenly saw the hundreds of peo—demigods in front of him. Most were still in their armor, scratched, injured and in some cases even barely standing…but were holding their respective weapons. "Oh right, I forgot. Here is your weapon, Chiron gave it to me. So I am go-"

Catching the familiar silver cylinder Michael tossed at him, Harry didn't hear any of his next words as he felt something…crawl over his skin. His hair stood on the end, just like it had the night he had killed the Dursleys with the giant lightning bolt, or like the time he had taken a dip in the ocean for the first time.

It felt…right.

Moving a finger over the fine engravings over the metal, Harry looked at the demigods ahead of him, and like he had done earlier in the day, wished for a sword. With a… ripple that he felt in his bones, the metal wavered and flowed downwards, forming into a beautiful sword with the handle being wrapped in leather. Marveling at the weapon Gaphrus had gifted him, he ran his thumb over the tiny sapphire set into the part where the blade started, and walked towards the assembly in front of him.

"Demigods!" He called out, summoning his longbow to his hand as he looked at the sea of faces in front of him, "Today…our home was attacked yet another time by the spawns of the Pit…and several of your brothers and sisters fell in the battle. Now…we stand here, giving them the final farewell, with a hope that they may achieve the Elysium."

As was the custom, and as it had been done several times before, the spirits in the water carried the boats away, their own mourning lighting up the waters with a neon blue shade.

Pulling back the string, he looked at the boats with regret and sadness, once again wondering if it had been a lack in his teachings that had resulted in so many deaths.

A burning arrow formed in his hands as he stared at Ester's boat, the orange shroud on it dipping halfway due to the lack of half the body. Tears sprang up in his eyes as the moment of her death, and that of everyone who had died to that Drakon's blood swam through his mind…and of the thousands that had been before them.

Behind him, the cabin leaders knelt on the ground, followed a moment later by the rest of the demigods as he shot the arrow into the sky—a prayer to Lady Hestia, Lord Hades and Lord Apollo for the wellbeing of the souls that were going to the underworld, as well as their families that were about to receive the news. As the arrow reached the zenith of its ascension, the boats slowly started to disappear into a sudden mist, and Chiron lowered his arm as he saw Ester's shroud fade from his vision.

"Michael," he called out, turning around to look at the Leader of the Apollo Cabin. "Tend to the demigods that refused treatment until now, and send out teams to bring in the ingredients and herbs for refilling the inventory right away. After the army we have defeated today, there should be no monsters for miles around the Camp."

"On it Chiron," he nodded and turned around, his golden longsword flowing back up to his wrist to form a bracelet, before he turned around and said, "Oh, and Harry is awake now, he must be around somewhere."

Nodding at the information, Chiron looked around himself for the black-haired demigod, and almost jumped in shock as he found him…right beside him.

'How in the name of Chaos did this child come so close to me without me realising it?' He wondered, using the mist to take on the illusion of a wheelchaired human, 'A legacy of Hermes or one of the Underworld deities?'

"Hello…Harry," he greeted the child, once again feeling the worry and fear gnaw his insides as the features of Lord Poseidon stared back at him, "How is your shoulder?"

"It is fine," he nodded, jumping a little as the xiphos in his hand reformed into the metal cylinder, which in turn turned into a silver watch on his right wrist. "Whoa! How did it do that?!"

"A method to conceal it from the mortal eyes, so you can carry it with you everywhere you go," he explained, gently taking hold of the demigod's wrist and turning it over to look at the dial, "It is a beautiful weapon Harry, I don't know from where you got it, but do take care of it —and it will do the same for you."

"Okay," he nodded, taking back his wrist and rubbing the watch, before his eyes narrowed at the wheelchair. "How did you do that?"

"That?" Chiron asked, looking down at his human legs as he wiggled his toes, "That was a gift from the twin children of Lady Hecate, so that new and young demigods like you are not scared or intimidated by my real form."

"I was not scared,'' he huffed, looking at the slightly greyed-out hair and the warm eyes of the immortal centaur. "You are not scary at all. Uncle Vernon was scary, with his big hands and that loud voice…and those monsters that attacked me earlier today were scary."

"Well, I am quite happy you think that Harry," he laughed, grateful for the sheer honesty and the bit of levity the little demigod had given him after the day he had experienced. "Now, how about a tour of the camp, before I show you where you have to live, hmm?"

"Mhm," he nodded, following after the disguised centaur. "I didn't get to see much of the camp while walking here, but there were a few…different houses on the way."

"Those are the cabins of the Olympians," Chiron spoke, pointing at the one nearest to them, a sandstone and marble structure done in soft blue, with green tinted glass mosaics. "That one is for Lord Poseidon. His children used to stay there while they were in the camp, and similarly, the one beside him is dedicated to the King of Gods, Zeus."

"So, where is the one for Lord Hades?"

Chiron winced at those words, and an unnatural chill spread throughout the whole camp as within a single moment, the ruler of the Underworld decided to show his…displeasure. The torches all over the Island died out, every flame winking out of existence save for the Hearth where even Lady Hestia sat upon the logs silently, not doing anything to ward off her brother's presence.

"Lord Hades…doesn't have a cabin for his children, Harry," he ground out, reaching out with his own infinitesimally feeble presence, begging and pleading with the Dark One to leave the campers alone, not when it was not their fault that this insult was given to him, "And I beg you to not speak of this again."

"O-Okay," he gasped out, stumbling back to his feet as the weight from his shoulders receded, and his senses stopped screaming at him to run away. "Wha-Was that Him?"

"Yes," Chiron grimaced, looking at the Poseidon and Zeus' cabins with sadness. "Now, let's continue before you offend another God, and this time they actually decide to smite you out of existence."

"I am sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the watch once again and feeling a sense of warmth and comfort envelop him. "I didn't do it on purpose, how was I supposed to know Lo-he would get angry."

"No, you weren't," he sighed, turning around to look at the demigod. "I am sorry…my words were out of reason. Now, did Gaphrus tell you anything about the Camp's structure, protections or general days here?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "He only told me about the Olympian Council, the basics about each of them, and then he gave me this weapon before he disappeared into the forest."

"Well, I guess we should start with the most important parts then," Chiron began, turning his wheelchair around so that he had a full view of the cabins. "The cabins are built to house the respective Olympian's children, save for that of Lord Hermes and Lady Artemis. The former also provides a home to the children of the various…Gods who don't have a cabin to their name, while the latter is for the Hunters of Lady Artemis."

"What are the Hunters of Artemis?" He asked, looking at the silver and white two-story house with curiosity. "Are they those silver-dressed girls who were fighting with knives?"

"They are," he nodded, before he sighed and said, "and now that the topic of the Hunters has been brought up, remember one thing Harry. Don't you ever, ever talk to them, walk to them or even look at them until and unless your very life depends on it. They don't take kindly to boys, and if the boy is a demigod, then even more so."

"Okay Chiron," Harry nodded, deciding to do just that—he had never been good at talking to new people anyway. "So, the Olympians have their cabins, in which their children live…So what happens to Lady Hestia's kids? She was an Olympian right? Before she gave her throne to Dionysus? Where is her cabin?"

'Why the hell is this kid asking all the difficult questions on his first day?' Chiron nearly groaned out, the only thing keeping it back being the thousands of years of patience he had developed, 'I didn't come out alive of that meeting only to get killed a few hours later due to these questions!'

"That is because I am a maiden goddess, Harry Potter," a soft voice whispered from right beside them, and Harry actually jumped in his place at the sudden words. His hands immediately lit up with fire, two years of living in the streets having cautioned him to the dangers of people who could walk silently.

"Hmm, so what I felt was right," the newcomer—a girl, Harry realised, seeing the long, brown hair falling down her back as well as the strangely, slightly luminous amber eyes. "You are a wizard…it has been many years since a union between a god and a sorcerer happened."

"Who are you?" He asked, and Chiron gasped at the clear rudeness, as well as at the way the flames grew bigger and hotter, "And what do you mean I am a wizard?"

"I will answer one at a time, child." The girl laughed, moving her finger over the fire in his hands, "I am Hestia, the eldest child of Kronos and Rhea and the Goddess of Hearth, Home and Family. Now, you wanted to know why I didn't have any cabin to my name, despite being an Olympian prior to my nephew's ascension?"

"Mhm," he nodded, removing the flow of energy to his hands as on some level, he simply knew that Hestia wasn't going to harm him in any way or form. "I did. Especially because every Olympian save for Lord H-him has a cabin here. Even Lady Hera, who Gaphrus told me hasn't ever given birth to a demigod, and neither she will."

"True, Hera isn't the one to break her marriage vow," she nodded, looking at the magnificent, over-the-top cabin her sister had commissioned for herself a few centuries ago. "Regardless, the reason why I don't have a cabin is that I am a maiden goddess. Which means that I will never have intercourse, and thus, I will never give birth to a child."

"Don't know what intercourse is…but I read something about 'maiden goddess' in the book," Harry frowned, closing his eyes and thinking back to the various paragraphs he had read since last night, before a picture of a spear-wielding goddess came back to him "Ah! Now I remember, isn't Lady Athena a maiden goddess too?"

"She is," Hestia laughed, conjuring a barrier just in time to block her niece from hearing their conversation. "But her way of creating her children doesn't involve physical intimacy, so she still adheres to her vows, while creating her children at the same time."

"What is physical intimacy?"

And that was the day Chiron watched something he had never imagined happening. Hestia, the purest and the most reclusive of all Olympians, the first goddess to swear herself to Eternal Maidenhood…gave an eight-year-old male demigod a lecture on what Intercourse was.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own PJO or HP

AN-1: I couldn't control myself from writing an extra chapter this cycle.

AN-2: You can read the NEXT FIVE CHAPTERS right now! Join my discord to know how!

AN-3: A very big thanks to HadesReynes and LordLexx for the edits, as well as an extra one to Hades for being such an awesome beta! You guys are awesome!

31 July 1987

"Well, you were only a foot away from the bullseye this time," Michael snorted as he ruffled Harry's hair, snickering at the withering look the shorter boy was giving him. "Come on, that's enough practice for today. Now let's get to lunch before Abigail and Dan finish everything."

"But what about sword work?" He raised an eyebrow at the blond, "You can't just show how good you are at archery and then expect me to leave you without a bout or two?"

"I swear to my father, you were a lot better in the starting months," he grumbled, willing his sword into his hand as Harry did the same. "Now, first blood or weapon out of hand?"

"Weapon out of hand," he grinned, feeling the familiar weight of his xiphos settle into his palm as he twirled the weapon, its edge singing through the air. "Wouldn't want to mess up that pretty body of yours, not after what happened last night at the dinner."

"Yeah," Michael absentmindedly nodded, remembering the feel of Cynthia's wonderful ass grinding upon his crotch right in the full view of everyone. "That'd be ba-WHOA!"

Bringing up his sword to parry the slash that came out of nowhere, he winced at the jolt that traveled up his arm from absolutely abnormal strength behind that blow. However, seeing an opening with the way Harry's arm was stretched, he brought his sword and landed the pommel square in the center of his thigh. Using the infinitesimally small bit of lightspeed that he was able to access, Michael barreled into Harry, sending him flying away into the forest with a shockwave that cracked the ground beneath them. Huffing and panting like a dying animal due to that single picosecond he had spent in the lightspeed, Michael fell back on his ass and sighed happily. It wasn't that he wanted to curb stomp the kid, not when he had finally started to gain some confidence and ego due to his quickly growing magical powers and physical prowess. But he had a date with the totally hot, bombshell daughter of Aphrodite in a few minutes, and he wasn't going to let Harry's desire to win a swordfight get in the way of that.

Because damn if he wasn't going to fuck Cynthia and her thick ass into the ground tonight.

Turning away from the destroyed trail of trees, he sighed and shook his legs a little, his whole body aching like someone had used it like a punching bag for hours on end. Winking at a gaggle of girls practicing with the spear, Michael had just returned his sword to its bracelet form when a punch landed on his cheek and sent him flying through the air.

Skipping and rolling across the ground, he groaned and winced as the broken fingers of his left hand made themselves known, along with the bruises that were no doubt forming all over him. Stumbling to his feet, Michael shook his head, seeing double for a few moments as opened and closed his jaw. This…this was exactly why he didn't want to spar with anyone other than his own siblings, or the Hermes, Demeter and Dionysus campers. Being a son of Apollo had given him a lot, be it speed, archery, swordsmanship or even the handsome looks…but what it hadn't given him was the sheer physical strength some of the cabins sported. He was magnitudes stronger than the strongest bodybuilder on the planet, and last, he had checked, bench-pressing an eighteen-wheeler had been no sweat for him…but he was still weaker than the weakest child of Ares or Hephaestus.

Harry, it seemed, was definitely the son of a god who had physical strength involved in any of his domains, because the kid was increasing in physical stats like crazy. Spitting a tooth that had come loose from the force of the punch, Michael glared at Harry, who was standing right in front of him with a carefree grin on his face. That one punch had bruised the right side of his face, and knocked a tooth out of his mouth, to say nothing of what the rest of his body was feeling. And that smug little bastard was standing there with just a tattered shirt, torn up shorts…and a dozen little cuts. With a smile.

And this was after he had been thrown through more than a dozen thick trees.

By the gods, who the fuck was this freak's father?!

"That was probably the hardest you have ever punched me!" He said, opening his palm and summoning his sword back to him, "How did you move so fast? One second you were stopping my sword and the next I was flying through the trees!"

"I have learned how to access the speed of light, but I can only do it for a nanosecond or three," he grunted out, motioning to his legs. "Any longer and I will destroy myself due to the overload of divine energy. Now, let's get this over with so that I have some time to heal before my date."

"I bet Cynthia would love to kiss you better," came the snort as Harry looked at the daughter of Aphrodite, who was teaching some of her siblings to use charmspeak, "or maybe rub ointment on you with her tits."

"I will have words with Turner about leaving around mags like that," Michael grumbled, remembering the innocent, slightly excitable kid he had first met a year ago in the infirmary. "I am half sure that one of these days I am going to find you rutting some girl right in the middle of the camp."

"Maybe," Harry grinned back, eyeing the buffet of flesh that was the Aphrodite and Demeter girls. "Though, I will blame it on you and Turner. You guys are always going on and on about these things…I was bound to get affected."

"You sure it wasn't that Naiad who turned you into a lecher?" He asked in return, using the healing powers of Apollo to mend his body. "That one that mistakenly kissed you on the lips instead of the cheek she was aiming for?"

"Pretty sure it was you both," Harry snorted, "and as I have come to know, we mature a lot differently to the mortals. Not my fault I get a hard-on at the sight of those jean-clad butts, or the tight tops and shirts that have suddenly become a fashion here."

"Yeah," Michael chuckled, raising his hand in the air and conjuring hundreds of bolts of light above him, "Imagine my surprise when my ten-year-old ass got an erectiON!"

The bullets of light shot towards Harry at the last word, and the son of Apollo fell to his knees, dead on his feet and spent beyond measure. However, as the tiny bullets of light exploded all over the area where his opponent had been standing, Michael grinned and looked up at the sun.

"Well Dad, looks like that trick worked," he groaned, feeling the warmth of the sunlight increase for a second as his energy got replenished a little bit, "Now, let's see about that Ambrosi-"

"Damn that hurt," a voice spoke up from the area still clouded in dirt clouds, and Michael groaned in defeat as he turned around, barely able to keep his arms and legs from trembling, "Good thing I got that shield down, otherwise I would have been toast. Didn't know we were having a battle of powers, though. I thought it was all about swords this time."

"Fuck me."

"So, how did your spar with Michael end?" Turner asked as soon as he lay down upon his cot, the older boy leaning down from his bunk above him. "I heard some explosions, and saw the bit where you were sent flying by him from my post."

"I punched him in the kidney, and then blasted him across the ground into the lake," he answered, stuffing his face into the pillow and letting out a groan. "I swear, if someone else asks me about the spar one more time I will blast his face with fire."

"You should have seen how Dianthe was looking at you after you turned away from him though," Lee, another unclaimed demigod snorted from his right, cupping his cheeks as he smiled at him "'Oh my God! Harry is looking so sexy! How the fuck did this kid grow abs overnight!' Gods, she looked ready to jump you!"

"After seeing all the porn you guys keep stuffing beneath my eyes, I might have just let her," Harry chuckled. "Though, maybe not jump me. Her tits would have suffocated me to death before anything would happen."

"Damn Turner, we have turned our little friends here into a lecher!" Lee exclaimed, looking up at the son of Hermes, "You sure he is not the son of Eros or even Lady Aphrodite?"

"Nah," he said quietly, grinning down at the boys. "They both claim their kids quickly, and besides, with how fast he has grown, I have no doubt that a strong male god is his father."

"Yeah, kid was a runt when he came here," Lee snorted, reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair. "Now look at him, the body of Matt Biondi and a height of 5 feet at just nine years of age. Even for a demigod, that is absurd unless you are a kid of the War god or the Forge God."

"If you guys are done talking about me like I am not even here," the kid in question snarked, whipping out his hand and slapping Turner on the back of his head, "Then please shut up and let me go to sleep. And we have Capture the Flag tomorrow, the first one ever, so don't wank off to those mags you are hiding under your pillows. With how bitchy and itchy the Hunters were when I saw them last year, they will be out for blood."

"Aye Aye Captain," Lee grinned, saluting him as he sat up. "Though, what will you do without your best archer? Last I checked, Michael and Cynthia still weren't back from their date. You sure he is not going to die of dehydration? Cause I tell you mate, that daughter of Aphrodite is a succubus and she will suck his nuts dry."

"Gross," Turner gagged, and Harry was right behind him as he sent a small shock right at Lee's nuts. "Thanks for that imagery, Lee."

Snorting at the antics of his other two best friends, Harry closed his eyes and sent a prayer to Hypnos…so that somehow he may have a dreamless sleep for once. The reason? A continuous series of visions and dreams that had been coming to him for the last three months. There was no rhyme or reason to them, or at least none that he could decipher. Each one was different than the last, and no vision had ever repeated itself.

Some showed him the Golden age of humanity under the reign of Lord Zeus, while the others showed him the failures and cruelty of gods such as Hades, Hera and Athena. But for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out why the hell was he being shown these things? Was it his divine parent's doing, preparing him in the history of their world? Was this something every demigod underwent, despite the lessons from Chiron every day?

However, before he could think more about it, the world in front of him shifted and lit up with a brilliant white, and he mentally sighed at yet another unanswered prayer. Opening his eyes with a sigh, he saw a scene that made him blink in shock. He was standing in the Olympian Throne room, and right in front of him were the chained and bound forms of Lord Poseidon, Lord Apollo, and Lady Hera with the other Olympians in their thrones.

"I am more amused than angry you know," the familiar voice of Lord Zeus echoed around the room as the God of Thunder and Sky sat on his throne, his face resting against his fist as he looked down at his son, brother, and wife, "How could you four even think that you would be able to depose me, the King of Gods?! I have more power in my fist than the four of you combined!"

"You are a tyrant brother, nothing more, nothing less," the battered and bruised form of Poseidon scoffed, spitting in the direction of his King, "You very well know the reason for your power over us. Since your birth, you have considered yourself well above the rest of us, all because of the reason that mother decided to grow a backbone after five of her children were swallowed. You took the throne that rightfully belonged to Hades or Hestia, and we let you because of a misguided sense of thankfulness. You have filled the council with your children, sent away our brother, and taken Hestia's throne to give to this drunken, waste of sperm you call a son."

There was complete silence in the throne room as Poseidon stopped speaking for a moment, and every god was looking at the Ruler of Seas like he had gone mad. A crackling sound however drew their attention towards Zeus, who was looking down at his brother with murderous fury, his master bolt clutched in his hand as errant bolts of lightning arced off his body and tore into the marble around him.

"Speak your next words wis-"

"Oh, stuff that spear up your asshole!" Poseidon interrupted, glaring up at his brother as he nodded towards the weapon, "We all know why you have all this power now, despite being marginally stronger than us all those centuries ago. Your children have spared no inch of land in Greece where your praises are not sung, and when whole kingdoms pray to you first for every fucking reason then why won't you have more power than the whole council combined! You are a tyrant Zeus, a dictator hiding behind the facade of democracy…and mark my words brother, your day will come, just like it did for our father. You may have absorbed Metis and prevented the birth of your doom by her womb, but prophecies cannot be changed…you will suffer Zeus, at the hands of your son you will suffer."

"I have had enough of this nonsense!" Zeus thundered, launching his bolt at Poseidon and sending him flying to the doors, "As the King of Gods and the Ruler of Olympus, I call for a vote against Poseidon, Hera and Apollo for the crimes of treachery, attempted deposing of their King and conspiring against the welfare of the Gods and Humans alike."

"Guys, I can't find Michael anywhere," Abigail panted as she came to a stop, looking at Turner and Michhone, the latter being the eldest demigod in the camp. "I think we will have to start without him. No doubt he and Cynthia are still fucking each other in some motel."

"Well, you go and tell Andrew he has the command of the archers today," Turner murmured, waving his hand at the daughter of Apollo. "Also, I want zero shit from any of them today. No jokes, no taunts for the Hunters. Just focus on immobilizing them. The Ares cabin is not participating today, and neither is the Demeter cabin…and the less said about my cabin, the better."

"Well, we have the plan, so stic-WHAT THE FUCK?!" Michhone shouted, jumping almost all of the way to the treetop as her eyes widened into saucers, "What in the name of Zeus is the Oracle doing out of the Big House?!"

Shocked screams and whispers rose up from all over the demigod population as the skeletal figure of the Oracle walked toward them. Emerald green mist swirled about its form, the tattered, barely there remains of the clothes it had once worn glowing with ethereal light as it soundlessly moved through the pale-faced crowd around it.

It came to a stop right in front of Turner, but instead of looking at him…the oracle turned it face skywards, and jade green mist billowed out of his mouth. It took a single, rasping breath, and the rattling, dry sound echoed all over the area. The wind died down, the leaves stopped rustling, and even the demigods stopped breathing as the Oracle of Delphi took a second breath, her brightly glowing eyes looking at something above them.

"Oh shit," Lee whispered quietly, as he too looked up. "She is looking at Harry."

"I said, get the fuck out of my way!" He snarled, slamming the butt of his xiphos into a Hellhound's snout and then opening it from mouth to stomach, making its dark maroon blood splash out—right before the monster was sent back to the Pit in a puff of golden dust. "Fucking. Idiotic. Little. Shits."

The pause between each word was punctuated by him lobbing fireballs at the canines, making their howls of agony echo through the empty area, right before he fell on top of them like a maelstrom and carved them up into nothing but monster dust. Panting a little as the last Hellhound disintegrated under his fist, he looked up at the dusty motel ahead of him. Cliche…but then again, Michael was a lover of the movies that went like this. Taking a look at the motel once again, Harry blinked as he realized something. Despite being situated on a busy highway, there was not a single another vehicle besides the car Cynthia owned. And if that wasn't shady enough, the lack of any life inside the motel certainly was.

Gripping his sword tightly, he moved forwards to the building, an invisible shield forming all around him as he drew upon his inherent magical powers. Approaching the Countach, he stopped in his tracks as he saw something glistening upon the white door of the car, the Sun making it impossible for him to see anything else as it shone down upon the stark white car. Moving closer, Harry froze in his tracks as he was finally able to make out what the thing on the door was.

Blood.

The Sun glinting off the door had made it impossible for him to discern it a few feet back, but now that he was closer, he could see it clearly. As clearly as he could see how it covered the shattered remains of the windshield too, the sun reflecting off the blood and lighting up the insides of the car with a ghostly red color.

When you see the father through the son,

And find no sign of the Jewel,

Know that you have found what you wanted to.

A Dove will be lost to the progeny of the Sun,

And to save her from a fate most cruel,

Know that you must become what you are meant to.`

"Mic-Michael?" He whispered with shock, looking at all the blood. The seats, the dashboard and even some of the roof was completely covered with it. Gripping the door, he ripped it off the vehicle like it was made of paper, throwing it into the motel behind him as he looked inside the car…and promptly wished that he hadn't.

Michael's right hand was lying there on the seat, torn off at the elbow…with his sword still clasped in the fingers. A numbness spread over his mind as his eyes refused to move from the limb, despite every fiber of his being wanting to move away from the car. For the first time in years, Harry felt his magic bubble out of his control, and just like that night three years ago…he felt something inside him click.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and clouds formed in the sky as he took a deep breath, the air acting as fuel for the fire that was starting to burn inside him. Rage overtook his mind like it never had before, even during the worst of what the Dursleys had to offer. Since coming to the camp last year, Michael had done his best to make things good for him, from personal lessons in bladework, to just hours-long chats about anything and everything. He had been a brother in all but blood to him, and slowly, Harry had realized that he loved Michael.

And now, something had torn Michael away from him. He wasn't a fool, and neither was an optimistic, bright-eyed kid. Not anymore, especially after what he had seen in the last year. He knew that Michael was dead, otherwise he would have used an Iris message to call for aid. Moreover, he and Cynthia were probably engaged with each when the monsters got a drop on them, otherwise, nothing short of a Tier 3 monster would have gotten him.

Unknown to him, his heightened emotions were triggering his latent demigod powers, just like the extreme bout of hate and anger had done it three years ago. But this time, this time his body was hundreds of times stronger, and able to handle the divine energy without causing his own death. Moreover, after years of consciously using and experimenting with magic, a part of his mind was able to instinctively recognize the slowly awakening power in his blood, like how it was able to translate all forms of Greek into English for him.

His xiphos materialized in his hand, the sapphire on its crossguard glowing with a soft sea green light as he kneeled down and laid his palm upon the ground. A dark blue light began to come from his eyes as he turned them to the south, somehow understanding the vibrations in the ground and what they meant.

The ground cracked for meters in every direction as he shot forwards, every window in the motel shattering due to the shockwave that formed as the heightened emotions and the first taste of divine energy supercharged his cells. However, Harry didn't even notice how his speed had doubled, or how a soft, blue glow was traveling down the edge of his blade. His only focus in that moment was the system of caves a few hundred meters away from him, from where he had felt the steps of a heavy, giant monster.

The monster which had taken away his first friend and brother.

With a scream that almost tore his vocal chords, Harry jumped into the air, controlling the air around him to boost himself as he rocketed towards the cliffs. Directing the power inside him he cloaked himself in a swirling storm of lightning, and with a roar akin to the crack of thunder, broke through the rocks in front of him. Punching a large rock into nothing but pebbles and dust, he glared at the cave in front of him, the putrid, horrendous smell of rotten meat and blood as much of a giveaway of the monster's location as the vibrations in the ground were.

Gripping his xiphos tightly, he allowed the lightning around him to spark away into nothingness as the heavy steps of the monster became audible to him, and as the shadows in the cave lit up with a flare of orange… Harry saw the murderer of his best friend.

He saw red.

Chapter Text

Burning crimson eyes were the first thing Harry saw as the monster started to come out of the shadows, its steps shaking the ground beneath his feet. A plume of fire burst out of its snout as a loud snarl echoed around the cave, the sound of its claws striking against the rocks making his hair stand on the end. Gripping his sword tightly, Harry watched as the eyes started to gain height, the bone-chilling sounds of its growling breath increasing in volume.

As a bolt of lightning erupted in the direction of the monster, the flash of light illuminated its face for just a split second…but it was enough to send a shiver of fear down his spine.

A Chimera.

A fucking Chimera.

It stepped out into the meager sunlight, the bloody snout dripping crimson as its giant form loomed over him. With burnt orange fur forming its mane, the lion's face glared at him, fire escaping its maw as it breathed heavily. Behind the head, a series of gleaming white spikes traveled down its spine, flanked on both sides by two large leathery wings and looking as sharp as the muddy, bloody claws on its paws. The chimera snapped its jaws once, revealing the large, long, and numerous teeth it possessed—and the barbed tongue that was cleaning off the blood and flesh stuck to them. The snake sprouting out of its back turned around to look at him with poisonous yellow eyes, and as its tongue flicked out to taste the air, Harry shivered at the cold voice that reached his ears.

"Another demigod?" It hissed, and the lion head seemed to growl in agreement as the chimera bent down at its knees. "And we barely finished the last…but this one seems more powerful. By the Great One, this demigod will keep us fed for a long time!"

As the snake finished hissing out the words, Harry decided that those were going to be its last. Holding his sword with both hands, he blurred into motion, his xiphos coming down in a diagonal slash that cut through the chimera's hide. Sliding on his knees underneath its belly, he carved through its abdomen, jumping back to his feet once he was past its hind legs. However, in his haste, Harry had forgotten about the snake head, and only his reflexes saved him from getting his throat crushed in by its maw. Stumbling back onto his feet, Harry whirled around with a telekinetic blast ready on the tips of his fingers, but now that it was alert, it was laughably easy for the chimera to smack him in the ribs with its prehensile tail. The motion was so quick that it took him a second to realize what had happened, right before he slammed shoulder first into the cave's walls. He groaned painfully, half of his body inside the stone and his chest hurting like after one of Mia's punches.

However, before he could even think about pulling himself out, the snake wrapped itself around his leg—and almost crushed the limb beneath its grip. Crying out in agony as he felt the serpent constrict even tighter, Harry instinctively released the energy inside him, a wave of electricity exploding out of him…right into the snake's face. The serpent shrieked in pain as the lightning imbued with divinity seeped inside him, its eyes bursting into ruptured holes right away while the rest of its body spasmed and jerked away the demigod's leg. But, even as it suffered with the painful voltage the beast jumped away with a painful roar that shook the walls, it realized that something was not normal.

In the past when it had tangled with the demigods able to wield lightning, their elemental attacks hadn't been this painful. At least not with the amount of electricity this one had shocked him with. Unknown to both of them, it was not only the divinity inside Harry that had mixed in with his attack, but the magic that came from his wizard side as well. Pulling himself out of the wall, Harry grimaced as his leg and shoulder both screamed out in protest, but thankfully, the adrenaline was numbing the pain for the moment. Something slid down the bridge of his nose, and Harry swiped it off only to blink at the familiar feeling of blood on his fingers. Looking down at his hand, he sighed slightly even as he willed his powers to heal the wound on his head. Thankfully, it wasn't a large gash, as it seemed the lightning which had empowered him for those short moments had also increased his durability by an order of magnitude.

But before he could think more about the shroud of lightning that had enveloped him, the chimera roared loudly and pounced upon him, its maw opened and it was full of bloody, wickedly sharp swords. Or at least the canines were—Daggers at the very least and the rest of the teeth didn't exactly look too inviting either. Knowing that he would tire long before the monster would, Harry realized that he had to finish this fast. Especially because the chimera had an insanely fast regeneration on its side too—the large cut he had delivered to its side and stomach had already healed, not even a hint of the wound remaining behind. Jumping sideways, he tried to bring the lightning back, but other than the normal electricity he had been producing for years at this point, he didn't feel anything different. Moving deeper into the cave to avoid the lunging bites of the monster, Harry thought hard on anything he could do to kill it. As he stumbled upon a rock, an idea came to his mind, and he willed a light ball to form high above him, revealing the ceiling of the cave…which was devoid of any stalactites. Of course. Ducking behind a large rock to take a moment as he heard the beast struggle against the somewhat tight opening, he looked around at celestial bronze weapons lying all around in the cave. There were more than three dozen swords and spears, some of them not even bloodied as they rested on the floor…some of them he even recognized.

And then his eyes landed upon a set of knives resting at the other end of the large chamber, the rubies laid into their hilts catching his eyes amidst the blood they were lying in. His blood froze in his veins, and Harry mechanically walked over to them, not even noticing how the chimera had finally made it inside the opening. Stopping a foot away from Cynthia's knives, Harry fell to his knees as the unmistakable truth hit him. The Daughter of Aphrodite was dead. And it had not been that long ago too, he realized, watching the blood ripple slightly as the ground shook from the chimera's weight. He had failed, by mere minutes, and as the hot, putrid, rotten breath of the monster washed over his back, he watched the blood in front of him ripple even more.

"It is rare that we find a mate for ourselves out of the Pit,' the snake's hiss echoed around him, drowning him in the clear sadistic glee the monster was feeling as the serpent came around to rest its head on his shoulder, 'But then…the Daughters of Aphrodite do make for a good enough substitute. It felt good you know, her screams as we took her like the victors we were after snatching her away from her mate. Even now, she continues to please us, her flesh and divinity making us stronger by the minute as we absorb her body…or whatever was left of it after we mated."

Like it had happened a few minutes ago by Cynthia's car…he once again felt something inside him shift, but this time it felt more…heavy, for the lack of a better word. Lightning once again exploded out from him, but this time, the whole cave shook as the ground itself trembled at his fury. Eyes glowing a vivid shade of azure like the bluest of lightning bolts and the purest of waters, his hand snapped up, catching the snake head within its grip before it could even realize what had happened.

The snake started to thrash and hiss at once, and the body of the beast raised its paw to strike his head, something which would have undoubtedly finished the fight right then and there. However, the next moment, something unexpected happened. Growling in a bestial manner much like the monster behind him, Harry grit his teeth as he tightened the muscles in his arm…and simply crushed the snake's head like an overripe fruit. Feeling the blood and flesh drip between his fingers as the other two heads roared out in pain, Harry felt his anger grow even more. Grabbing onto the body of the snake that functioned as the lion's tail, he unleashed thousands of volts right into the monster's bloodstream. His eardrums were almost blasted away by the agonized howl the monster let out, and the ground shook even more as the large monster thrashed wildly.

Slowing down to a stop once he felt the electricity reach lethal levels, Harry stared at the monster with a frown. Looking at the charred stump where the snake's head had been, he raised his foot and stomped upon it, flattening the stub with a squelching noise as blood splattered out of it onto the ground. Looking at the blood on his shoes, he remembered when he had moved a puddle of water back in Surrey after a rain, making it flow into the garden where it belonged. Reaching out to the blood around him like he had done it with water so many times in the past, he imagined molding it to his desires, moving and shaping it like how he wanted…and the blood did that readily. The droplets rose into the air, collecting together trickle by trickle, the pool of blood at his feet too answered his call.

Once a sphere the size of his head collected in front of him, he looked at the weakly groaning chimera, the monster still stunned from the lightning it had suffered. But a part of him was confused regarding one thing. Though this shock had been leagues more powerful than the last one, a chimera shouldn't have been crawling away from him. Even now, the monster could have easily turned the tables upon him, one bite from its maw and it would have been over. And since it had the strength to crawl across the ground, he was flummoxed regarding why the monster wasn't attacking him. However, unlike Harry, the monster had realized him for what he was.

For who he was.

Shaping the blood into a crude spear-like shape, Harry looked the chimera right in its eyes, the crimson orbs no longer as hateful and hungry as they had once been. Delighted in the way it shied away from his eyes, and tried to move away despite the sparks still jumping across its fur, he raised his arm as if the spear was within his grip instead of floating in the air…and brought it down sharply.

The condensed, hard mass of blood followed his directions perfectly, the sharpened tip connecting with the chimeras pupil. The hardened eyeball, an evolutionary trait of the chimera after too many arrows to the eyes, resisted for a moment, but the next moment, Harry roared loudly and pushed through it. The eye burst into a bloody mess instantly, his spear sinking into the monster's head before he let his control over the blood fade away.

It howled once again, breathing out intense gout of flames at the demigod as the blood splashed upon the ground. Pushed back by the sheer force of the attack, Harry grunted as he slammed back first into the wall, feeling his clothes burn away due to the fire and his sword drop from his fingers. But, contrary to what he had expected, his skin was not burning along with them. Oh sure, demigods had higher durability to elements compared to mortals, but this is no normal fire. Even a demigod could endure only so much of a monster's flames before his skin started to burn away…but that was apparently not the case with him. As he started to walk towards the chimera, the flames continued to wash over his form, but instead of the rising heat across his body, Harry didn't feel a thing.

Even his hair was untouched by the heat and fire.

Grabbing onto the opened jaws of the Chimera, he grunted as the ridiculously sharp teeth pierced into his flesh, going through his palms to come out of the other side. Pushing his body to its limits, he started to pull the jaws apart, and the Chimera started to thrash even more as it realized what was happening. The fire cut off immediately as it started to close its maw, pushing against the ground to stand up, its right paw already moving in an attempt to bat him away. His knees buckled as the beast rose up to its full height, the sheer weight and power of its large body pushing him down as its jaws inched closer and closer by the second. His own blood fell upon his face and flowed down his arms, and Harry watched the glint of victory once again appear in the Chimeras eye as it growled softly—the ruined mess of its left eye already bubbling and shifting as it regenerated.

Feeling his wrists scream out in pain and protest, Harry saw the moments Michael and Cynthia had suffered from in his mind. His brother, surprised and killed before he could do anything but pull his sword out…and Cynthia, ravaged and defiled in the most disgusting, horrifying of ways before this monster ate her remains. The walls rumbled even harder this time, cracks spreading throughout the cave, his eyes glowed a vivid shade of sea-green, and the slowly closing jaws stilled instantly.

The chimera whined in confusion, and a pained sound came from its throat as the muscles in his arms bulged, the veins pushing to the surface as he grit his teeth and pushed. Bit by bit, inch by inch, he forced the jaws apart, and the chimera could do nothing but struggle as it tried to remain on its feet. Moving even an inch would have meant falling on its flanks, and the monster knew that would mean a death sentence with how much it was straining to keep its jaws from being torn apart to the neck. However…this beast was not The Chimera, who was a Tier 5 monster—and whimpers left its throat as Harry started to stretch its mouth wider and wider, his nose beginning to leak blood and his head started to throb painfully.

With how much the ground was shaking, it soon lost its footing too, falling to its side just like it had feared a moment ago. However, before it could do anything…Harry screamed loudly, and tore its mouth apart as the creature lost its focus on its muscles for just a second. The monster stilled instantly, blood fountaining out of its exposed throat as the cave stopped shaking too.

He breathed heavily as the monster started to disintegrate, golden dust falling to the ground as it returned to Tartarus. The glow in his eyes went away at that, sea green clearing away to show the shining emerald as Harry fell to his knees in exhaustion— the shock of using his powers in such magnitude in quick succession hitting him hard. He winced as the holes in his palms finally began to sting, his nose practically sprouted blood to the ground and his headache increased even more. His body began to burn up as the sweat on his body began to steam off, and Harry groaned weakly as he coughed out some blood, his throat raw and parched. Deciding to call Chiron for support, he tried to crawl over to where his clothes had been burned away, hoping to use the drachma for an Iris message.

But before he could move more than an inch, blackness started to envelop his vision, his skull feeling like something was crushing it from inside out. A whimper left his throat as he coughed, his hand reaching out to Cynthia's knives as strength started to leave his body. As his chin met the ground and his eyes finally closed, and the last he heard was an eagle cry loudly right above his head.

"My Lady," Alecto, currently in her human form, bowed her head as Persephone, the Goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld appeared at the entrance of Hades' palace, "I assume the winter is to come early this year?"

"Quite," the beautiful woman nodded, her yellow sundress changing into a black, form-fitting gown, highlighting each curve she possessed, "There have been some happenings in the world above which need to be brought to my husband's attention. Where is he right now?"

"Lord Hades is currently hosting Lo-" Alecto stopped midway as the ground trembled mightily, and Persephone felt thousands of souls enter the Underworld in just a moment, "WHAT IN THE NAME OF CHAOS IS HAPPENING?!"

"That's Poseidon," she murmured, floating off the ground as the stalactites above began to fall down, "But he hasn't raged like this in centuries."

"What caused the Earthshaker to be so furious?" Alecto asked no one as her wings materialized out of her back and she flew up, watching the lines of the dead increase more and more with each passing second, "Did someone attack his demigod child?"

"Poseidon broke his oath?!" She asked, turning towards the Fury, her face paling rapidly as she momentarily lost her control over the flight before righting herself. "How long have you known this, and why was I not informed?!"

"Because I decreed it so," Hades said, appearing above both of them as his aura flared brilliantly, stopping his brother's rage from destroying any more of his world…to a degree. After all, there was no stopping Poseidon's rage once it was triggered, especially when it was his brother who was the Earthshaker. "Dammit Poseidon, I get why you are so upset, but direct this Earthquake to New York will you?!"

Growling in irritation as a stalactite landed on his head and shattered, Hades poured out even more of his power, his divine form shining through for a moment before the Underworld stilled completely. Satisfied that his world would be disturbed no more, he floated down to his wife's level, seeing her after more than five months. Persephone shivered as she once again felt her husband's dark, terrifying power wash over her. Knowing every single tick and habit of her after thousands of years, Hades smirked with satisfaction as he felt her arousal, her nipples stiffening beneath her tight dress in response to his show of power…and of course, the fact that she was seeing him after five months of separation certainly factored into her state.

But there were other matters to be discussed, namely, her husband's decision to keep her out of the loop. Growling in her throat, Persephone floated down to the ground, crossing her arms over her chest as the other two followed her. Her eyes flicked over to Alecto, and the Fury understood her wish instantly, her head lowering in a bow as she sank into her own shadow.

"Why was I not informed about Poseidon siring a demigod?" she asked once again, staring her husband right in the eyes, "You dare hide something this huge from me?!"

"Careful my dear," he murmured silkily, reaching out with his hand to stroke a finger down her cheek, as he leaned down, his mouth right next to her ear "Don't raise your voice too much…the dead don't like it. As for why you were not told, the last time I said something of such importance to you…you shared it with your mother, and the Master Bolt claimed the lives of Maria and my children both. You remember it, don't you?"

A primal fear washed over her mind as she remembered that day, when Hades had truly shown her how powerful he was, when the Master Bolt had struck the hotel his mortal lover and his two demigods had been living in. His divine form had utterly destroyed their palace to the last particle, and the whole Underworld had suffered apocalyptic damage in the wake of its Master's fury.

"So yes my dear, I kept you out of the loop this time," he hissed, his hand rising from her cheek to the back of her head, where he gripped her hair so tightly that an involuntary cry of pain escaped her throat. Her head tilted back to alleviate some of the pain, and Hades chuckled as he felt her arousal spike. Placing featherlight kisses along her pale neck, he bit down harshly upon where he knew she liked it the most, and savored the taste of his wife's skin even as he spoke with anger, "And now, you can know about it, because it seems your father has crossed all limits and somehow changed Poseidon's son into half his own."

"H-Has he went mad?!" she half-moaned and half-gasped as her thighs rubbed together, her mind stuck on a single thought. Poseidon was going to declare war. "Why would he do something like this? He already has a demigod girl running arou-Mmm!"

"I don't know," Hades growled, feeling his lust reach a fevering high as he watched Persephone's breasts strain her dress to the point of tearing it, "But what I do know is that you have been ignoring your wifely duties for five months, my dear. Get to them before I decide to take you right here and now in full view of your subjects." The smoldering look he got in return let him know that he had successfully taken her mind off of the spawn of his brothers for the time… and put them on a much more enjoyable activity. He may be the ruler of the dead and damned, but he still enjoyed practicing making life.

So, that happened.
Comment if it was good, and if it wasn't, tell me why it didn't live up to your expectations.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form.

AN-1: I have a linktree, from where you can join my discord, and find the NEXT FOUR CHAPTERS! linkt.ree/PP092

AN-2: A very big thanks to LordLexx and Hades for the edits and for being the beta for this fic.

AN-4: I also have a discord, where you can read the next chapter right now! Use the link on my profile to join! We have finally reached 1000 members, and you can join for discussions and live updates!

He was dreaming once again, he realized, as he saw the sight in front of him. A large palace, made of the whitest marble imaginable, with gold lines running through it, towered in front of him. Golden lightning bolts were affixed over the giant doors, and above the palace, clouds swirled peacefully, sunlight filtering through them in bright streaks.

"My palace, built by the Hecatoncheires when Olympus was created," a powerful voice spoke from behind him, and Harry turned around to look at the speaker. A gasp escaped out of his throat as he beheld the black-haired, blue-suited man. His electric-blue eyes and the aura around him easily gave away who he was looking at "Of course, it has undergone several additions over the centuries, especially after the—well, that is a talk for a later time."

"Lord Zeus," he mumbled quietly, hastily lowering his eyes and kneeling down. He placed his fist over his heart just like what Chiron had taught them to do, "It is an honor to be in your presence."

"Rise, Harry Potter…or Evans, whichever you prefer," the Sky god spoke pleasantly, crossing his arms behind his back and walking by his kneeling form, "What is the last thing you remember?"

"I-uh-I was fighting the Chimera," he murmured, looking down at the cloudy floor beneath him, closing his eyes as he focused upon the memories of the monster, phantom sensations of fangs piercing his skin and his muscles tearing from exhaustion and reminding him of what he had been doing, "I had grabbed its jaws, and tore it open from mouth to neck. Before I fell unconscious…and an eagle cried over my head."

"Hmm, so no lasting damage to your brain," Zeus nodded to himself, turning around to look at him, "That eagle was one of my wind-spirits, and he carried you back to Camp-Half Blood before your condition could deteriorate any further. You accessed quite a bit of divine energy in the bid to kill that Chimaera, more than what your body could safely handle at this stage."

"Thank you, Lord Zeus," he said, before a frown made its way on his as he looked up at the King of Gods, "forgive me for asking…but why did you save my life?"

"Why would I not save the life of my son?" He arched an eyebrow, conjuring a throne-like chair before he sat down on it, "Half though you may be, you are still my son Harry."

"Whu-What?!" he whispered, his face draining of color as his vision swam, and he fell to the ground. He had known that he was a child of some god…but this?! This was way out of what he had ever thought. A son of Zeus?! the strongest, wisest, and the most revered of gods?! "I am your son?!"

"You are…though not completely," he nodded, a somber expression coming over his features as the sky over them thundered, white clouds turning somewhat darker as a harsh gale blew through the area, "A Demigods birth is a process, Harry, instead of a single-night affair unlike what the demigods and the mortals themselves think. More powerful the god, the more time he or she needs to have intercourse for the conceiving of the child. For someone like Apollo, this takes barely two weeks of sex. For someone like me, who is the most powerful god, it takes more than a month."

"So did you leave my mother mid-way?" He asked, taking care to not let the growing irritation and hostility show within his voice, knowing that despite however correct he might be…it won't matter one iota to Zeus, "Is that why I am half your son?"

"No, my son, it's not any fault of my own that you carry only half of my power within you," Zeus softly said, sighing heavily as he looked down, "Another god entered your mother's room once during the time we were together, and took her forcefully against her will. I came to know of this only after the deed was done, and by then it was too late."

"Who was it?" He growled, remembering the smiling redhead he had seen in his dreams once or twice, her emerald green eyes so like his own, "Who did this, father?"

"It was Poseidon, my child," he sighed wearily, and Harry snarled as his eyes shone a powerful mix of blue and green, his hair swaying in the wind as electricity crackled across his form. "He was the one who raped your mother to humiliate me, and get his sick, twisted pleasure from it, just like he did with Medusa and Pasiphae."

Harry's eyes shot open the next moment as the dream ended, and the first thing he saw was the familiar painting of Lord Apollo. Groaning as he tried to sit up, a burst of pain shot through his head, and the memories of his dream came back to him instantly. Fuck, Lord Zeus was his father wasn't he? All those times when had used lightning, and created winds with nary a thought…he had just been doing that instinctively. Using the powers the God of Thunder and Sky had passed on to him.

However, with those memories came the flashes of the times he had swam through the Thames as easily as he walked on land. The times when the water had felt like a home to him, never needing to breathe, never needing rest despite however many hours he had swam through the depths of that river.

"Fucking bastard," he swore, Zeus' words and all the memories of how Poseidon had been the furthest thing from a god echoing in his mind. The treachery and rebellion against his father, the rape of Medusa and how he had taken his anger out on Pasiphae among the various other things his dreams had shown him over the months. Maybe it was the act of the Fates themselves? Preparing him for when he would come to know how his mother was defiled by the Sea God.

"Oh good, you are awake!"

The air was driven out of his lungs at the same moment that he heard Abigail's voice. She hugged him tightly, and he grunted as his back once again made contact with the bed, his face full of her golden blond hair. Wrapping his arms around her, Harry sighed as the thoughts about using Poseidon's trident to impale him into Tartarus faded from his mind.

"Hey midget," he smiled, pinching her waist and making her yelp. "Were you the one who attended to me this time? My own blond nurse?"

"Don't get any ideas pervert," she giggled, intentionally pressing her budding breasts into his chest. "You have been sleeping for two days Harry, get up and come out before everyone thinks about making your shroud too."

"So, err-you guys know about Michael and Cynthia?" He asked uncomfortably, not meeting her eyes for the fear of judgment and disgust he would find in them. "Who told the camp?"

"Father came to our cabin the same night you were brought back by that huge eagle," she said, sniffling for a moment before a sad smile came on her face. "He gave us Michael's possessions, and the keys to his mothers house in Manhattan. Apparently, she died last winter, and her properties came to be in Michael's name, which as his siblings, we all have inherited now. Lady Aphrodite did the same for her cabin, except the only thing they got was the Countach Cynthia had charmed a man into giving her for free."

"I am sorry." he whispered, burying his face into her neck and sniffling quietly, the memories of the blood-soaked Lamborghini and the spot where Cynthia had been…coming back to him, "If I had been just a little bit faster, I would have saved them both—or at least prevented Cynthia's death."

"Maybe you would have," she nodded back, sitting up on his stomach as she wiped her eyes, "Or maybe we would have burned your shroud instead of theirs two days ago. You can't change the past Harry, so stop beating yourself up about it—especially since you barely made it back alive from that fight. If it hadn't been for that wind-spirit flying you here, you would have died from the overuse of divine energy. Your flesh was almost glowing by the time you made it here, cracks going over your skin like it was about to flake off any minute. If the treatment had been even an hour late, you would have died for sure. So thank whatever deity who decided to save your life."

"I will," he muttered, sending a prayer to Lord Z-his father as a thanks for the help he had provided. "Now, you think I am fit enough to leave this wonderful bed, Nurse Abigail?"

"You most certainly are Mr. Evans," she nodded with a mock-serious voice, getting down from him and picking up the paper on the table. "Broken ribs, cracked ribs, cracked tibia, punctures in palms, mild burns, torn muscles, and a dozen other things I don't want to read. Now get up and go to Chiron, he wants to hear the details of your quest."

He had seen the most brutal, bloody, and destructive wars in history first hand, from the fall of Titans and Giants to the Greek-Roman wars that had happened numerous times over the centuries. But as he looked at the knives, the fangs, and the silver xiphos in front of him, Chiron couldn't help but shiver as he saw another war brewing on the horizon.

By Chaos, what had possessed Lord Zeus to do something so…depraved and insulting and twelve sorts of wrong?

He had known that Harry was the son of Lord Poseidon straight away when he had first laid eyes on the boy—and always assumed the boy to be particularly strong with the Storm given how easily wielding lightning came to him. But even in the most wildest of Lord Morpheus' creations, he could not have imagined him to be a changeling.

They were rare, as rare as the sight of the Tier 5 monsters themselves, but one appeared every couple hundred or so years. A demigod son of two gods, birthed due to the influx of another's god's divinity into the growing fetus and the mothers flesh. And Lord Zeus had a precedent for it. A total of nine times he had done this to various gods and their paramours, but each time, it had either been one of his sons or some other minor god. And even then, he had never let so much of his power go to the children he had changed into half his own. Hades, out of those nine, only Lord Apollo had recognized what had happened once, with none other than Chiron knowing the truth about the other eight.

But this?! Deceiving his brother's paramour, changing his demigod son? And given how similar the two brothers looked, no one would have ever even realized the situation unless Lord Zeus came out and said it outright. After all, it was the only reason why a wind spirit would carry an apparent son of the Sea back to safety.

"I knew it from the first day, you know," Lady Hestia's voice echoed in the empty room, and Chiron sighed as he clenched his fist, "But a part of me always hoped that I was wrong."

"Given that he ordered Harry to be carried back, I am sure he had already told him his version of the events," he said, feeling a protective dome go over the Big House for a moment as Hestia stopped anyone from listening in on them. "Do you think Lord Poseidon knows?"

"He doesn't," Hestia said, growing into her adult form as she took a seat before him, lowering the hood to reveal her beautiful amber eyes, the perfectly sculpted face, and the luscious brown hair falling to her waist in waves, "If he knew, he would have started the war on Olympus by now."

"Which is going to happen sooner or later," he grimaced, looking at the array of items on the table. "What does he gain from doing this? Humiliation for his brother, personal satisfaction, or was he unable to control himself once he saw Poseidon's paramour?"

"I don't know Chiron," she sighed, worry flickering through her eyes as she looked up at the ceiling. "But if I know Zeus at all, then it can be just as petty as taking Poseidon's woman to show him up. But what I do know is that Harry is a very powerful demigod, and an equally powerful wizard as well—and given how Zeus ordered that wind-spirit to bring him back to the camp, I can imagine he has already made contact with the boy."

"Do you think that this time it was Lord Poseidon who did the deed?"

"Poseidon is many things Chiron," Hestia softly said, fire dancing across her hair for a moment as she looked at him, "He has done several wrongs and blunders and atrocities in his life…but this is something only Zeus can do. Besides, I saw Harry's mother once, standing together with Poseidon on the shore of the lake in Hogwarts. She had prayed to me then, to keep her home and her child safe, and that sheer joy and hope in her eyes couldn't have been created."

"Are you going to do something about it?" he asked, closing his eyes as the mother of all headaches began to pound away the inside of his skull, "Maybe tell Lord Poseidon about it before he finds out from somewhere else and attacks Olympus?"

"Oh…he knows now," she sighed, and Chiron coughed as he felt the air inside his lungs leave him. "I can feel his growing anger right now…By Chaos, he must have seen the eagle carry his son back to the camp, and with how high Harry's capabilities with lightning and air are, it must have cleared up the things for him. Fuck!"

"Wh-Why hasn't he done anything then? Claim Harry as his own, or maybe come to the camp himself to meet his son?! Because I assure you Lady Hestia, Lord Zeus will claim the boy as his own at the dinner today—and if the way the boy had been asking questions about the Ancient Times meant anything, someone has been sending him the memories of various things from the Old Days."

"I don't know everything about what my brothers think Chiron," she gently said and stood up, "I am late for my meeting with Hades, so I must take my leave now—and you have your own task coming up to you. Don't say or do anything about this Chiron, let the future take its course."

At the last word, Hestia disappeared in a swirl of flames, and Chiron immediately felt that little spark of hope and positivity within him die at her departure. Of course, Harry had to choose right that moment to enter the Big House, and now that he knew the truth, it was all too easy to spot the little bit of Lord Zeus in his features. The sharper cheekbones and the slight greyish sheen his hair had when light struck at a particular angle—along with the slight flecks of blue he was now able to discern in his emerald-sea green irises.

"Was that Lady Hestia?" He asked, and Chiron nodded, knowing the next words before they even came out of the boy, "Whoa, never seen her so…grown up."

"Only a few ever do," he nodded again, and leaned back into his wheelchair. "Now that you are all healed and fine, do you think you can tell me about what happened after you moved past the fourth wall?"

"Right, Uh…after the fourth wall," he muttered, taking a seat on the sofa and closing his eyes, "I killed a couple of dracanae, saving a huntress from at least a maimed leg and receiving three dozen glares for it. I used the mist to hitch a ride to the last known location of Michael and Cynthia, where I found out that they had driven to a motel a couple of miles away. I decided to walk to that place, killed a few hellhounds, and within a few minutes I was able to see the Countach. However, once I reached closer to the car, I saw the smashed front, and smelt the blood from it. The windshield was shattered, and the hood was almost broken off…and Michael's arm was still inside the car with his xiphos gripped in that."

"There was no body?"

"No…the chimera had eaten him right on the top of the car after severing his arm," Harry said after a moment, and Chiron gripped the armrest of his chair so tightly that the wood snapped underneath his fingers. A Chimera, at the age of nine?! Before he could even say something in the face of that, Harry continued, "I felt angry, you know? My first friend, my brother was dead and Cynthia was missing, a girl who had always helped me whenever possible. And then, I sort of felt something shift in me…and I could feel the earth below me for miles. I felt the monster then, walking a few hundred meters away from me, and I ran to it. I broke through the walls of a cave system, and found it inside, a chimera and its lair. We fought, and I killed it after a sudden rush of strength hit me. However, I was once again late, and it had already…eaten Cynthia before I got there."

"Very well," Chiron nodded, making the items behind him float to Harry, "As the spoils of your victory over the chimera, you got its fangs. And as a thank you for avenging her daughter, Lady Aphrodite has decided to give you her daughter's knives. Along with it, Lord Apollo has asked you to visit his temple tomorrow morning."

"Oh…okay then," Harry nodded, taking the knives and the fangs from him, before picking up his sword from the table, "Is there anything else you want to tell me Chiron? Or any guesses about who my parent is?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Harry," he said, closing his eyes as he leaned back, his mind awash with the thoughts of how this was going to blow up in everyone's faces, "You ready for dinner now? You must be famished after the last three days."

"I am telling you what I saw," Ashley, a son of Apollo who had mostly handled Harry's case, grunted out, smearing peanut butter all over the bread, "that was chimera venom in his blood you lackwits. I am the best at poisons and toxins, and believe me, after the chimera attack five years ago, you better believe me when I say it."

"So you are saying that Harry, our Harry got bit by a chimera, and then also killed it?" Lee asked, his eyes wide as he took a bite of the pizza, "Gods, that kid scares me more than the thought of Lady Artemis turning me into an animal to hunt."

"Well he is coming right towards us, so you can ask him all about his quest now," Turner said as he nodded in the direction of the Big House, and soon, chatter on every table stopped as they spotted the demigod in question walk towards them, "Is it me or Chiron is really looking ike he'd be anywhere but here?"

"Well, we do give him a lot of hea…fuck me."

Turner's voice trailed off into a whisper as lightning flashed across the suddenly dark sky, and a bluish-white thunderbolt appeared over Harry's head. Electricity flickered across his whole form, and his eyes glowed a bright neon-blue for a moment as Chiron fell to his knees…followed by every shocked demigod around them. They all placed their fists over their hearts as the King of Gods claimed his son, the sky lighting up brilliantly with flashes of thunder.

"It has been declared," Chiron proclaimed, his voice echoing all around them as the demigods looked at the lightning bolt with wonder and horror both, "Hail Harry Potter, Son of Zeus, the King of Gods and Olympus, the God of Thunder, Sky, and Justice.

Regarding Hestia refusing to tell the truth, some members in discord also raised questions...but it is all part of the plot, and yes, it has an actual reason instead of just prolonging the lie and making it edgier. Also, comment and favourite if you like what you are reading!

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or PJO.

AN-1: College is a bitch. 10 hours a day are going to it directly, while sleep takes about 7. I am slowly settling into a new routine, and an abundance of time is only found on weekends. Updates might suffer for the next month too as I find a rhythm, or they may not.

AN-2: For reading four chapters in advance, use Linkt.ree/PP092.

AN-3: A very big thanks to LordLexx and Hades for the edits, as well as an extra one for being such awesome betas

It was…unfair, Harry thought as he looked at the absolutely lavish room he was in. A bed larger than what even five people would need, with white marble walls and ceiling…while just a day past, he had been living in an absolutely overstuffed, underprepared Hermes cabin. Twisting and turning on the soft mattress, Harry sighed and stood up, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings which had just been turned into his permanent residence. Because while his divine half-brother might let him inside his cabin even now, the Hermes campers, especially the unclaimed ones, were probably not going to like it. Standing up with a frustrated grunt, Harry walked over to the mirror and looked into it, seeing the statue of his father behind him, its electric blue eyes looking down at him through the reflection.

Was Zeus able to watch his kids through those eyes? He wondered, raising his palms to look at the circular scars on his palms. And if he was…did he always do so? Like even on the girls? Shuddering slightly as he remembered the less-than-flattering myths about Zeus, Harry turned around and moved out of the bedroom, almost banging his head on the wall purposefully as he saw yet another statue in the very center of the entrance hall. Picking up the shirt he had thrown on the couch, he walked out of the cabin—a mansion really—towards the temples. While they were not really used anymore, what with them being able to pray to the gods directly, during the meals, or even in the cabins themselves, sometimes a god would demand a particular demigod to be sent to their temples. For quests that were personally given by them.

Walking over to the Apollo temple, Harry looked down at the knives that were sheathed at his sides, the rubies reminding him painfully of how Cynthia had taught him to manipulate the mist…and how the gemstone had been covered with her blood. Shuddering slightly to banish the memories back into the depths of his mind, he looked at the camp behind him, wondering if anyone else had seen what he had witnessed that day.

Walking into the golden temple dedicated to the Sun God, he looked at the statue in front of him, one which was devoid of any armor or weapons. Just a scroll in one hand, some herb in another, and a bow slung across his back.

"I always found these aspects of mine better than the others," a strong, but amused voice spoke from behind him, and Harry turned around, bowing immediately as he saw the aforementioned god before him. Apollo walked closer to him, and strong but soft hands gripped his shoulders before pulling him up—his honey-like voice dripping into his ears as Apollo made him look up into his sky blue eyes. "Rise little brother. After what you and Michael shared, and what you did to avenge him, you need not ever bow to me. Besides, we are family are we not?"

"I guess we are Lord Apollo," he muttered, shivering as he felt his whole body warm up, the kind that made him wish for back in the winters he had suffered in the streets of London. "May I ask the reason for the summons?"

"Eh..call me Big Brother," he winked, snapping his fingers to conjure a couple of simple chairs. "Take a seat first, will you? I am sure you are still not fully recovered from the epic battle you had with the chimera."

"Well, there is a mild pain in my hands, and in my leg where the snake bit me," he said back slowly, sitting down on the chair as if expecting it to explode any moment. There was a moment of silence in the temple as both of them looked at each other, Apollo with a friendly smile, and Harry with a growing discomforted expression. "I-I am sorry. I fai-"

"In saving Michael, my favored son?" Apollo interrupted, his smile and twinkling eyes gone in a second as he turned serious, "and in saving Aphrodite's favored daughter of this time, too?"

"Y-Yes," he gulped, his eyes lowering of their own accord as he felt his whole being scream at him to run away, to disappear in a hole and never come back out of it. A pressure descended on his body, on his mind, and on his soul as he felt the heat around him rise sharply, the toasty warmth of the winter Sun turning into the blazing summer that killed everyone.

"Were you purposefully late to their last location?" He asked, leaning his face against his fist, his eyes closed as a soft wind blew through the chamber. "Did you summon the chimera to their location, or impair their fighting prowess in any way?"

"I did not," he mumbled, and the stifling, scorching heat around him disappeared instantly, "I was ju-just so slow! I was late by minutes, and when I got there, Micha-"

"Shh," Apollo said as he stood up and pulled him into a hug, and Harry sobbed loudly as he unconsciously wrapped his arms around the god, "You really loved him didn't you?"

"I d-I did," he gasped between tears, finally feeling the sadness and the loneliness grip him, "He was the first adult in my life to be nice to me, he taught about swords, about bows, about demigods…about everything!"

"I know," he murmured softly, running a hand through his black hair. "He told me about you, you know? Back when you first came to the camp, and Aunt Hestia gave you the Talk. I swear, I have not been so shocked in my life. "

Harry laughed wetly at that, tightening his hold on Apollo, and for a moment, he could imagine that it was Michael he was hugging. Tears came fast as he broke down completely, and his half-brother just held him, running his hand over his back and mourning with him.

"He is in a good place, you know," Apollo muttered after a few moments, and Harry gasped as he felt water drop on his head. "Elysium, Persephone told me yesterday. And I want you to know this Harry…I don't blame you in any way or form. You did the best you could, and he did too. Now, since you were considered a brother by my favored son, and having impressed me with a number of things…I grant you this boon, Harry Potter. Either you can wish for a talent in Photokinesis equal to what Michael possessed, or you can ask a favor of me anytime in the future—given that it doesn't harm Olympus, Camp Half-Blood, or the demigods in any way, direct or indirect."

"You didn't include the mortals in that," Harry mumbled, removing his arms from around the god and taking a step back, his face burning with embarrassment even as he frowned, "and pardon my words…but why would you offer me Photokinesis?! Your own children rarely ever inherit that power."

"Call it an intuition," Apollo smirked, before he smiled softly and kneeled down, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. "Also, I did not include mortals in that because you don't seem like the murdering type…and well, if you do turn out to be a psychopathic superpowered teenager, then it will be a danger to Olympus, and daddy dearest will end you himself. He doesn't like powerful people you know, especially after the time when your uncle, Hera and I led a rebellion against him."

"Weren't you wrong though?" He asked slowly, testing the water as he watched for any sign of anger on Apollo's face, "Rebelling against a king is always a bad thing. Lucifer was also sent to hell for the same thing."

"There are many things you still don't know about our world, and our father, both, Harry," his half-brother said with a smile, standing up as he started to slowly vanish, "We have a terrible history, Harry. Each of us, except for Aunt Hestia, has committed several atrocities, sometimes out of passion, sometimes out of anger, and sometimes of our ego. No one amongst us has a clean soul, Harry, not even him. Now…your decision?"

28 September 1988

"Alright kid, here are some cookies," Harry passed on the box to the child of Aphrodite in front of him, taking one of them for himself as they sat around the fire he had created, "So Justin, how old are you?"

"'m seven," he answered, nibbling on the chocolate chips as his blue eyes looked at him, "How old are you?"

"Ten," he smiled, ruffling the shorter boy's hair, "Rest now Justin, we will resume once the Sun has risen…and don't snore, or I will drop cold water on you."

Smiling as the boy nodded with a giggle and burrowed into his side, Harry draped a blanket over both of them, sighing as he sagged against the large tree trunk behind him. More than a year had passed since Michaels's death and the revelation of how he came to be in this world. Things changed wildly, and quickly after that. His sudden shifting into the Zeus cabin and Apollo's cryptic words aside, Harry had quickly discovered that being a kid of the Big Three was nasty business…especially after what the last three had done.

The very same day he had met Apollo, all of the camp had seemingly shunned him for some reason. Except for his friends Lee and Turner, it was as if everyone else was scared to come near him, as if afraid of catching some incurable disease. Thankfully, Chiron had been there for him, along with Aunt Hestia. Both had told him about how the children of the Big Three were mostly waiting time bombs, who changed the world in some permanent fashion each and every time—and most of the time…It involved a lot of deaths.

Well, they had used gentler language and more supportive statements, but in a nutshell, Harry had understood only this much. Three months later, Turner and Lee both had died in a quest given to them by Hermes, something about rescuing a dozen demigods that had been guided by the God of Travellers and Thieves to a forest a few hundred miles away. Turner had died there, torn apart by a pack of hellhounds, but every child had been brought to the camp successfully. Lee had died in the camp itself two days later, succumbing to the poison from a lesser hydra, as well as a couple of dracanae.

Out of those thirteen boys and girls they had rescued, not even a single one was a child of the Olympians. All of them belonged to the minor gods, and a part of Harry was thankful for that. He didn't think the Athena or the Hephaestus cabins could handle any more strength. However, the deaths of his only remaining friends had made Harry decide something, which was beneficial to him, as well as to the camp. He went out of the camp, with only twenty-five drachmas, a couple hundred dollars, and a bag filled with clothes, ambrosia and nectar. With his sword fastened to his wrist and his knives on his waist, he had set about to kill each monster in his path, and rescue each demigod he crossed paths with.

For each one he rescued, he took five drachmas from Chiron—after all, for the ones that were really far away, the only option was to hire the Gray Sisters or the Olympus travel agency. And he really didn't want to traumatize the younger demigods so soon by introducing them to the three hags. Sighing as he felt three large lifeforms move closer to him, Harry looked at the creek in front of him and swallowed the rage that threatened to overwhelm his mind, burying the hatred for Poseidon deep in his psyche as he called upon the water.

Feeling the ground beneath him shake as the cyclopes reached within forty feet of him, Harry froze the water into three lances, and felt for the disturbance in the air. It was difficult to do so, especially when there was a steady wind blowing and already rustling the leaves of the trees…but after a few moments of concentration, he got the feel of each of their heads. Grunting with annoyance, he sent the three spears to each of their heads, hearing the sound of flesh getting pierced right as one of them walked over a bush in front of him and showed its eye.

Closing his eyes as they dissolved away into golden dust, Harry leaned his back against the tree and watched the handful of stars visible through the canopy. In one year, he had grown much more powerful, physically as well as with his inherited powers…on all three sides. As much as he wanted to one day kill Poseidon and impale him with his own trident, he couldn't deny the usefulness of the Earthshaker's powers. Especially since it seemed that he had inherited all of them, though his Cryokinesis was still a little shaky.

"That's the tenth one this month," Chiron sighed as he watched Harry lead the boy into the Camp. "Do you think we should stop him, tell him to stay here for a few weeks?"

"And what would that accomplish?" Hestia asked, smiling as Harry caught sight of her and waved, "You know it as well as I do that the Fates want something from him, something which will bring an upheaval the likes of which we have never seen before. They have never restricted me before, but the moment I decided to remove the enchantment on him, as well as talk to him about what Zeus must have told him…they stopped me."

"He is growing at an unprecedented rate, even for a child of the Big Three," he muttered quietly, worry in his tone as they watched the demigod in question create a small bird made of water, placing it in the newest demigod's hands, "I feel the Great Prophecy might come to pass soon, and he may be the subject of it."

"If it comes to that, then all the better that he has the strength to survive all that he will have to endure," she placated him, laying a hand on his shoulder—and just like that, Chiron felt all of his worries melt away into hope and calmness. Sighing as he leaned back into his wheelchair, he looked at the other demigods, and the way their eyes were locked onto Harry as if he was some caged beast. Seeing where his eyes were, Hestia too sighed with disappointment, even though she could understand the reason for their apprehension. A part of her wanted to test the Fates, see if she could whisper even an iota of truth to him.

It tore her from inside, to see him glare out at the Atlantic with so much hatred and anger on his face, to see him train hour after hour with his abilities until he collapsed with exhaustion—only to wake up and repeat it once again. Once again, she felt a thought worm itself inside her brain, one that had plagued her so many times over the thousands of years she had been alive.

What would have happened had she pressed for her claim on the throne? Or had Hades done so for his claim as the eldest son of Kronos? Shuddering slightly at the images that popped up in her brain, Hestia smiled as Harry ran towards them, his eyes regaining some of that sparkle and life which had steadily bled out of them over the past year.

"Aunt Hestia," he greeted with a large smile, and she beamed at him, opening her arms in an invitation he happily accepted, "I missed you the last time I was here."

"I was with Hades," she said, patting his head and laughing as his grip tightened upon her. "You can't hog all of my time Harry, much as you may wish otherwise."

"I wish it was so," he mumbled into her cloak, sighing as he felt like he was home, not the overly-opulent Zeus cabin, but somewhere warm and cozy where he would never have to fear anything. "Can I have some cookies once again, they really help the newbies calm down…and I really, really love them."

"On one condition," she chuckled, increasing her height even more so that she could tuck his face beneath hers, enjoying the way she could wrap him in her arms, "You will stay here for at least a complete day, participate in the game today, and then spend the night in the Camp itself by my hearth. Deal?"

"Mmm, okay Aunt Hestia," he looked up at her and nodded, and beamed at her as a box of cookies appeared on the table. "Thank you so much! By the way, what was the thing you wanted to say to me last year? I forgot all about it later on, but now that I remember, you never told me about it afterward."

"It was just some nonsense dear," she smiled, cupping his face as she leaned down slightly. "Now, why don't you go and freshen up? We can talk later by the hearth in the night. For now, rest and come on time for the game, okay?"

"I don't want to play with the hunters," he grumbled, disengaging from the hug and crossing his arms over his chest, lightning literally dancing in his hair as he glared at the walls, "When I brought in Dorea, they had almost shot their arrows at me. Thankfully Dad decided to make the sky shake right then, or I would have burnt them all to crisp."

"Harry," Chiron said warningly, leaning forwards to look the ten-year-old boy in his eyes, "Control that anger. Thousands before you have perished and made enormous blunders because they couldn't control their rage, and they destroyed themselves as well as those around them. Is that what you want?"

"Seems like a good option to me," he muttered, looking at the whispering campers from the corner of his eyes as he kicked at the ground. However, once Hestia cleared her throat and looked pointedly at him, he threw his hands and turned around. "Fine fine, I'll go and do yoga and sleep the anger off. Apó tous theoús, a kid can't even joke around here!"

"Do you think his fatal flaw is anger?" Chiron whispered quietly, erecting a barrier around them as they watched Harry enter his cabin, "Sometimes it feels like it, but if that were the case, he would have picked a fight with the Hunters by now, with how rude they have been to him over the past year."

"He has the blood of Zeus and Poseidon both," she said, conjuring a seat and sitting on it, "if anger and rage turn out to be his fatal flaws, I shudder to think what would happen. But it can just as easily be an ego-centric personality, or a personal loyalty enough to destroy anything."

"All right, the Ares Cabin and Athena Cabins will be our attack force and defense too," Ivan, the eldest son of Athena at the camp said as he looked at the various cabin leaders around him. "Apollo Cabin will provide support from the treetops and foliage, and Zeus cabin wi-"

"Will do as it pleases," Harry interrupted as he brought out his sword. "I can fly and ambush them, so I will be on the attack."

"You don't know shit about ambushing Evans," Ivan snarled, taking a step forward as he pointed at their flag. "This is the first game you are going to play, and you think you are qualified enough to make decisions about your own posting?"

"Shut the fuck up you overinflated narcissist," Harry snapped in response as he rose into the air, a shroud of lightning enveloping him as his eyes glowed a brilliant electric blue, "I have rescued dozens of demigods, and killed hundreds of monsters in the last year. A chimera, a hydra, giants, hellhounds, dracaena, all dead in single attacks. What have you done in the past year beyond making origami and having these mock battles?"

Not giving them a chance to respond, Harry turned eastwards and flew into the forest quickly, disappearing between the canopy with practiced ease. Quickly jumping from branch to branch, he appeared right above the spot which marked the halfway point between the demigods and the hunters.

Now, he just had to wait for the Sun to rise.

"Fay, Miami, and Debra" Zoe grunted as she walked over to the daughters of Hecate, "Weave an illusion, make them think Hellhounds have also appeared in the forest alongside us."

"On it boss!" Debra grinned, and her older sisters nodded as they raised their hands, manipulating the mist with a delicacy and talent only the daughters of the Goddess of Magic could do. "Say, why are we having this competition again? We won the last one, right?"

"Well, A, it's fun," Miami smirked, deciding to add a small amount of blood to each of the Hellhounds' snouts, "and B, because it's an order from the King of Gods himself. Also, I heard from Phoebe that this is the first time his son will be participating. I wonder if he is really as strong as the kids of the Big Three are known to be."

"Pray that thee never have to find out," their Lieutenant warned, her voice grave and serious as she looked at each of them, "World War 2 was just them caught up in their fatal flaw and using mortals for fighting. However, they were also some of the weakest Big Three demigods I have ever seen. The myth about them being monsters in human skin is very true, and this one is already looking to be on the stronger side. He killed a chimera with his bare hands on his first quest, tearing its mouth open and smashing one of its heads to a pulp. The last time I went in to talk with Chiron, some boys were talking about how he'd defeated a lesser drakon with just a single lightning bolt, so take care if thee come across him."

"The Sun is up, everyone to their positions!" Phoebe shouted from her perch on a tree, knocking back an arrow and closing her eyes, "Also, the one who gets that flag for us will be given a new, Celestial Bronze bow blessed by Lady Artemis herself."

"Well, let's see how this son of Zeus is, eh Lieutenant," Debra raised an eyebrow as the Hunters moved into the forest, leaving behind Phoebe, Atlanta, and the three illusionists to defend their flag, "Take your time will ya? I didn't even get to take out an arrow last time!"

Nodding at her sister's words, Zoe smirked and unsheathed her hunting knives, the gleaming edges thinner than paper and stronger than mortal steel by magnitudes. Spinning the blades between her fingers, she signaled with her palm at Nairobi, the huntress in charge of the right flank. The younger woman nodded in response, whistling quietly and taking twenty hunters away from the central group, and at the same time, the left flank did the same. The plan was to cross the creek dividing their territories at the same time with more than half of their numbers, leaving behind two dozen huntresses to slow down and defeat the campers who would slip past them. Darting between the trees, Zoe whistled sharply and shortly akin to a bird, and five huntresses from her group climbed up into the canopy, jumping from branch to branch as they swiftly moved forwards.

Ahead of her, Zoe could hear the campers moving towards them, even though they were at least a hundred feet away—her divine ears enhanced by Lady Artemis' blessing allowing her much more improved senses than the rest of the Huntresses. Jumping on a rock and pushing off it, she leaped up on a tree, scaling up its trunk and peeking out from its top. However, she had to duck down just a moment later as an arrow almost got her in the eye, making her fall off the thin branch she was sitting on. Slabbing her knife into the trunk and placing her boots on it, Zoe stopped her descent and looked in the direction of the campers.

'Where are thee, Harry Evans?'

Submerged in one of the creek's deepest points, Harry waited for the Huntresses to step forth into the water, imagining a sparking, shining ball of electricity inside him that he had received from his father. Bringing that power to bear, Harry avoided the urge to control the water and drown the Huntresses into defeat, despite how easy it would have been.

He wanted to keep that aspect of his life a secret for as long as possible.

Grinning as the Apollo campers launched a volley of arrows to his left, he took a deep breath and controlled the electricity on his skin from escaping into the water. He kept up building the charge, silently urging the Naiads to move back as he prepared himself. The next moment, arrows sailed over his head, the Apollo campers on his right making the Huntresses stop their forward momentum entirely for a few moments. And as they ducked and ran to avoid the arrows, he felt more than twenty huntresses step into the creek at the same time.

The next moment, in the barely there sunlight…the whole forest lit up with a bright flash of blue, accompanied by the short screams of twenty huntresses before they fell unconscious—and the victorious cackle of one demigod as he flew up into the air. His eyes alight with power, Harry raised his arm and manifested his sword into his grip, the sapphire in the pommel shining like a star as lightning flowed into the metal. Dark clouds swirled into existence, thunder flashing between them with a terrifying brightness and silhouetting his form against them—and right the next moment, thunder lanced down to strike the middle of the Huntresses' territory, shattering the quiet that had descended upon the whole camp.

It was at that moment, with her vision blinded by white and her ears deafened by the thunder, that Debra realized what Zoe had meant when she called the children of the Big Three monsters in human form.

SO yeah, that happened.

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Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any war or form.

AN-1: Sorry for delay, but health has been down these past two months, and time is something I find rare and rarer these days. Still, working on creating a schedule , and I will have some extra time from April. So we might be back to five updates a month from April.

AN-2: I have a Linktree, from where you can find the next FOUR CHAPTERS! LInkt.ree/PP092

AN-3: A big thanks to Lordlexx and Hades for being my editors and beta readers!

7 months later

"Harry Potter, I have a quest for you," a female voice whispered in his ear, and Harry jumped awake with a start, his xiphos already moving through the air, only to clang against another one. "That was not very nice."

His mind fully awoke at those words, or rather…the pure ambrosia that dripped from the voice. It was sweeter than a nightingale, and somehow, Harry knew the identity of the Goddess—for no mortal could have such a voice—before his eyes even traced up the pale white, unblemished hand holding the sword up to the speaker's face.

"Lady Aphrodite," he breathed out, his brain almost shutting down for a moment as it refused to process the sight of the perfection that was the Goddess of Love. Her face was…unspeakably, unfathomably beautiful. Perfectly pink and plump lips stretched into a small, otherworldly smile upon a symmetrical, regal face with high cheekbones and blue eyes straight from the clearest, bluest of oceans. Hades, even her eyelashes were beautiful, teased out to perfection along with the barest hints of…whatever the fuck girls applied to their eyelids. Struck dumb by the sight of her, it took him a moment to return to his senses…and notice that he had just attacked a Goddess—one, which according to the campers, should never be angered or trifled with. With his back against a tree and his xiphos still in contact with hers, Harry bowed his head hurriedly and placed his right fist over his heart, "My apologies Lady Aphrodite, please excuse this blunder as a foolish reaction on my part."

"There is no need to apologize. Harry," she laughed, placing a finger beneath his chin and raising his eyes to meet hers, "It was a mistake on my part, waking a demigod in the woods when he is known to be…dangerous."

"It's fi…ne," he gulped midway as she suddenly stood up, and he finally got the chance to look at something other than her face. His mouth went dry, and Harry experienced the most powerful sensation of arousal he had ever felt as he saw her absolutely mouth-watering body. Perky, large tits that strained against the red halter dress she had worn, leaving a clear line between them, along with a tapered waist and flat abdomen. Her hips were wide, and from the slit that rode along the length of her left leg, he could see that her long legs were toned and muscled. He couldn't see her rear, but based on what her daughters at the Camp were packing, he had no doubt that Aphrodite had an ass that would make men lose their lives for just a glimpse. She was Lust personified, a woman straight out of fantasy, and she was…looking at him as he looked at her.

"My my, you like what you see Harry? No need to be ashamed, tell me what you want, Harry?"She smiled predatorily, clapping her hands together and pushing up her pale white tits even more while moving her leg just enough to give him a passing glimpse at her thigh, "What do you want the most, Harry Potter, right in this moment, this place?"

"I want to kill Poseidon," he answered, his eyes glazing over at her question, but the rage in his voice was unmistakable, "For what he did to my mother, I want to kill Poseidon."

23 July 1990

Harry grunted as he slammed his fist into the dummy, pushing it back by several feet before he charged in, jumping and spinning to land a roundhouse kick on its head. Wincing as his heel made contact with the Celestial bronze, he ducked underneath the hands trying to grab him, and fell on his back, spinning on his shoulder to kick out its legs from beneath it. Climbing atop the automaton swiftly, Harry reared his hand back and slammed it in its neck, lightning coursing through his veins into the metal body beneath him.

The dummy powered down at its death, and Harry sighed as he stood up. Walking over to the bench, he picked up the towel and wiped the sweat off his body, frowning as he saw his knives sitting on the bench along with his xiphos. Nowadays they reminded him of Aphrodite every time he looked at them, and more often than not, it was not because she was the most beautiful creature on Earth and regularly starred in his fantasies. It was because of the words she had spoken before giving him his quest all those months ago.

'Then you are wishing for the wrong thing, Harry…but for a right cause'

Cryptic as hell and with no contact between them afterwards, Harry had gone mad trying to decipher the meaning behind them. A part of him wanted to disregard it as just the ramblings of a Goddess looking for some entertainment…but somehow he knew that she was telling the truth. Of course, the fact that Poseidon hadn't wiped him out after that also meant Aphrodite hadn't tattled on him, despite using her charmspeak to make him say that. But why in the name of Zeus had she said that?! His wish to kill Poseidon was wrong, but the cause, his mother's rape did happen?! Was this wha-

"Attack on the southern side!" A shout came from the innermost wall, and Harry tensed up as he stared in that direction, able to hear the faint sounds of screams…and explosions? Picking up his sword and one of the knives, he teleported, a skill that he had learned last month. Appearing right on the top of one of the towers right as a large explosion of greek fire happened, he stared at the horde ahead of him. The monsters had already broken through the first wall, the magical barrier and booby traps all failing to st-oh fuck! His eyes widened as he saw a large form emerge out of the green explosion, its multiple heads each holding a demigod as the large, lethal tail behind whipped through the air, shattering the second wall instantly.

It snapped all of its mouths shut simultaneously the next second, and the screaming demigods in its even maws fell silent at once, halves of their bodies falling to the ground as their heads and torsos were swallowed. It was green, it was scaly, it was powerful. It was the Hydra. A Tier 4 monster, and probably more than fifty times harder to kill than the lesser hydra he had killed.

"The big one is mine, tell all others to keep the riff-raff off me," he said, jumping to stand by Chiron. The centaur was already launching arrows at an unmatched pace, leaving even the children of Apollo behind him, "And Chiron, when I tell you to, pull back all others."

"Understood," he muttered, knowing full well to trust in Harry's capabilities, especially since he was the only one who could deal with that monstrosity. "Be careful Harry. This Hydra is nothing like the one you fought last year. Its hide is exponentially tougher, and it can shoot three elements out of its six maws. Its regeneration rate is second to only the first Chimera…and I don't need to tell you about the poisonous fumes its breath emits constantly."

"Got it," he nodded, deciding to forego any armor—and it wasn't like a chainmail or a breastplate of Celestial bronze was going to stop the Hydra's claws or teeth in any way, "Don't die, old man, you still haven't scolded me for public display of sexual affection yet!"

Jumping down from the platform, Harry roared as he let the floodgates in his mind open, all of his anger and frustration bubbling out to create one hell of an emotional trigger. Slamming his fist right into the head of a Laistrygonian Giant, he grinned as the blood and brain matter exploded out around him, the whole torso of the giant nothing but bloody mist and chunks of dissolving meat. Bringing up his xiphos, Harry bent his knees and looked at the rampaging Hydra, the giant reptile trampling over demigods and other monsters alike as it breathed out water, fire, and ice in all directions, laying waste to everything around it.

Blood awash with adrenaline—or whatever the fuck its demigod equivalent was—Harry summoned lightning from the skies and pushed against the ground. The earth shattered around his feet as he jumped like a bullet, the thunderbolt striking him midway to cover him in a blanket of voltage. He streaked through the slowly darkening sky like a comet…and was immediately sent careening into the forest as the Hydra slammed its tail into him. A short, surprised scream came out of him before he slammed through the trees, breaking through the trunks like they were nothing but clay tiles. Groaning as he fell into the ocean after tearing through the whole forest between the shore and the Hydra itself, Harry sighed as his broken ribs healed, along with the large bruise that had formed upon them—with audible cracks that too.

Stumbling back to his feet, he glared in the direction of the Camp, the Hydra barely visible through the column of destruction he left amidst the trees. Grunting in anger, he called upon the lightning as he walked out onto the shore, his father's element exploding out from within him as he flashed through the land, just like he had all those years ago when he had accessed this power for the first time. Clearing the hundreds of feet of distance in practically a second, he simply tore through the monsters in his way, and stabbed his xiphos into the Hydra's knee. Snarling as the acidic blood splattered on his bare, blood-covered front, he channeled the lightning on his body into the wound. A tactic that worked surprisingly well against the monsters with acidic blood and tougher hide than normal.

The Hydra roared in pain, all seven of its heads thrashing about in the air as the whole battle around the stilled for a moment. Steam rose from his body as his eyes shined an electric blue, a soundless scream spilling forth from his lips as he channeled every bit of his power inside his sword, burning the child of Typhon and Echidna from within. The world fell away from his senses as his every thought, every cell was consumed by the thunder. However, the Hydra wasn't considered amongst the deadliest and most legendary monsters of the world for nothing. The shock was certainly painful for it, especially since its very insides were being cooked…but it was nothing that the Hydra couldn't handle.

Opening its leftmost maw, it shot a jet of fire at Harry, while lashing out with its tail at the same time. He grunted as the fire washed over him, the heat dozens of times worse than what the chimera had made him experience years ago. However, before he could so much as think of a way out, the Hydra's tail hit him again. Thankfully, he had managed to see it out of the corner of his eyes through the blazing orange flames, and managed to turn his body just enough that it impacted his back rather than his head.

His face hit the dirt immediately, the force behind the blow making him carve a trench for meters on the end as the lightning around him fizzled out. Stunned and probably concussed a little, Harry nonetheless swayed back to his feet, his hand empty of his xiphos' familiar weight.

"By the Gods," he muttered, shaking his head and blinking his eyes as the world swam for a moment. Groaning with pain, he twisted to his side sharply, sighing as a series of pops came from his spine. He turned and ducked as a hellhound went flying over his head, his eyes snapping over the Hydra as it made its way to the sec-third wall. The wound on its leg was as expected, healed and completely regenerated with a fresh armor of scales, and his sword was lying several meters behind it, getting tossed around the feet of the demigods and monsters alike as they battled.

Growling, he walked forwards, punching a hellhound on its nose and pulping its face in, while with his other hand, he launched a fireball right in the mouth of a Laistrygonian Giant about to chomp on a demigod from behind. Ignoring the feeling of blood and brains dripping between his fingers, Harry opened his fingers and grabbed the Dracaena in front of him, tearing its head apart with nothing but brute strength. Ignoring the shocked girl beside him, he raised a hand, and his sword shot back into his hands, the leather-wrapped hilt bringing a dose of clarity to his mind as he wiped the blood from his eyes.

And with that clarity, came a series of realizations as he stared at the Hydra, the last one minute having given him a feel for what he was facing. His physical power wasn't even close to scratching the Hydra's scales, let alone piercing them. But the speed of his last attack and the strength of lightning behind it had managed to sink his xiphos inside it. Without it, he had no hope of even injuring the Hydra as he was now.

Growling at his own weakness and the Hydra itself, Harry floated off the ground, his eyes trained upon the multiple heads of the monsters as he climbed higher and higher. He needed power and speed to cut through the Hydras necks. Boost his body to levels it had never seen before, and there was only one place to do it. Grunting as he asserted his control over the winds as well as the sky, Harry flew towards the gathering storm clouds above him. His teeth grinding into each other with effort, he pulled upon his powers even more, his velocity increasing with each passing moment as the wind roared in his ears.

By now the sun had completely gone down in the sky, and he could see the hints of the half-moon behind the dark clouds, right before thunder flashed in them. Rain began to fall upon him, strengthening and healing his body by the second as his speed increased even more, the winds beginning to howl as the storm gathered. He disappeared into the dark clouds, feeling his body change in ways he had never thought possible. As distasteful as it was, Poseidon's domain of water and storms was helping him a lot currently, and he had not even started with his father's domain. He felt the clouds charge around him, sparks jumping between them as he enforced his will upon them, calling all of the thunder in the storm to him.

The thunder answered his call.

His vision went white and dozens of thunderbolts struck him at once—and they weren't even the ones that naturally existed, their power instinctively controlled by his demigod nature so that he would not get destroyed. He screamed long and loud until he tore his vocal cords once again, blood coming out of his mouth only to evaporate instantly and millions of volts of electricity flowed into him, his whole body nothing but a lightning rod attached to a battery at that moment.

His veins glowed and his hair stood on the end as his eyes shone brighter than they ever had as pure, unadulterated power made its way into him. Down on the earth, Chiron and the archers by his side stared at the light show going on above them, Harry's form visible to them for a moment as it was silhouetted against the flash of lightning. After a dozen seconds of this, the lightning died out completely, and even the rain stopped falling upon them as everything went dark in the skies above.

And then, a star fell from the heavens above.

With the sound of thunder heralding his arrival, Harry shot down from the clouds, glowing like a comet as he pointed his hands at the Hydra. "PULL BACK!" Chiron screamed out at the top of his lungs, his loud voice piercing through the momentary daze that had fallen upon the battlefield, "Pull back now, no questions asked!"

Perhaps it was the fact that they had never heard him raise his voice, or perhaps it was their instincts, but not even the most battle-crazy and hotheaded half-bloods questioned his command. All of them instantly rushed back to the fourth wall, and the Demeter campers swiftly raised a wall of trees and vines, supported by the Hephaestus campers who threw up walls of steel between them and the monsters.

The Hydra roared loudly, its ear-shattering cry a prelude to the massive torrent of flames and boiling water it shot at the quickly approaching form of Harry. He, on the other hand, grinned manically even as the flames, scalding water and steam all washed over his form. As much lightning as he had absorbed in the clouds above, at that moment he was strong enough to withstand everything the Hydra could dish out, and return it back with equal force.

Concentrating his power on the tips of his fingers, he slowed to a stop a couple of hundred meters above the ground, and lightning burned Chiron's vision the next moment. However, even though his vision was nothing but white, the screams and shrieks of the monsters right before they were cut off—along with the continuous crackle of electricity—were enough to paint the picture of what was happening. Even the Hydra was screeching in pain as it was once again fried from inside, however, this time it literally had the power of a storm behind it.

Seeing an opportunity, Harry summoned his xiphos to his hand and teleported right amidst the flailing necks of the Hydra. Pushing all of the power inside him into his blade, he felt the leather burn away into ashes as the sword glowed molten white, electricity arcing off his body and the blade both. Roaring with anger, he settled his feet right on the part from where all the heads sprouted, and swung his blade with all of his might. The Hydra shook its whole body as the silver metal made contact with its first neck, and for a moment, the blade stopped right in its tracks, bouncing off with just a red scratch on the monster's hide. However, the next moment, Harry roared and swung once again…right as one of the Hydra's heads snapped around his stomach.

As the monster began to close its mouth and bite away the left half of his abdomen, his blade too began to cut through the necks—that single swing enough to decapitate all the seven heads in one moment. As his vision began to darken and he fell off the Hydra's back, the last thing he saw was the white spark in the clouds above…along with the disintegrating monster heads falling alongside him.

Chapter Text

AN-1: I don't own HP or PJO.

AN-2: This chapter might contain content offensive to some, so I am going to specify this here and now. Demigods grow up faster than mortals, which means an accelerated puberty, and I have said this before too.

AN-3: I have a Linktree, where you can read the next FOUR CHAPTER RIGHT NOW!

AN-4: A big thanks to Lordlexx for the edits and being an awesome beta.

"Wake up Harry," a warm, amused voice entered his ears, and Harry groaned in response, burrowing deeper into the soft, warm embrace of his blanket. Waking up could be put off for later. For now, he just wanted to sink in and die in the toasty, calming heat enveloping his whole body, his whole soul. A finger tapped the end of his nose, and he groaned even more, turning his face away from the interfering voice—and pressing it into the blanket as his arms wrapped around the warm body, a smile coming over his face as he slept upon…someone's thighs? His brows furrowed in question as sleep slowly left his mind, and he realized that his hands were actually around someone's waist, "Come on now Harry, no use in acting, especially in front of me."

"Mm not acting," he mumbled, groggily lifting his head and rolling on his back as his eyes opened fully, revealing the Goddess of Hearth sitting beside him on…the familiar bed of Zeus' cabin. She was in her adult form, a wide, beaming smile on her face as she ran her hand over his head dare he say…lovingly. Though, given that he had been using her as a pillow, maybe that wasn't such a far-off thing. And not a bad one either—especially when even a single touch from her sent his whole mind floating off into the clouds, free of any worries or thoughts except for calmness and warmth, "Hello Aunt Hestia."

"Hello to you too child," she smiled brightly, her auburn brown hair falling down to her chest in waves as she stroked his head—and a part of Harry imagined this is what his mother would have done, had she been alive today. "Are you able to sit up?"

"Don't wanna," he mumbled out, his voice so close to a whine that she laughed, mussing up his hair as he acted like the child he was. Tickling his neck, she delighted in the giggles and laughs that escaped him, her domain of home making both of them happier and comfier than normal. "Stop it. Let me sleep for a few more minutes!"

"You have slept enough already, young hero," she admonished him, pinching his cheeks as she stood up from the bed. "Come on now. You have been sleeping and healing from the various injuries you took for a week. Get up and go outside before Abigail starts to think you are really dead—like what half of the camp is saying."

"I am too stubborn to die, Dear Aunt," he sighed, giving up sleeping further as a lost cause, giving her a mock glare. "Couldn't you have let me sleep a little more. I swear, your legs are a better pillow than anything anyone could or would ever make."

"Thank you for the compliment Dear Nephew," she replied in kind, bending down to kiss his brow as she started to disappear from the room, fading away into embers as the smell of chocolate cookies invaded his nose. "A gift for you, in your achievement of killing the Hydra."

"Well, this is certainly a better wake up than the last time," he muttered as Hestia left the room, leaving behind a box of cookies in her place. However, just as he sat up properly, a sharp pain stabbed through his abdomen, and Harry gasped at the sensation. Moaning in pain, he summoned the staff lying by the wardrobe, supporting himself with it as he stood up slowly, "Ugh…I think I am gonna hurl my guts out. Fuck, did they get the teeth out or not?"

Stumbling and grasping the staff tightly, he walked out of the Zeus cabin, summoning a shirt over his bandaged and bruised torso. Raising a hand in front of his eyes at the sudden flash that went off in front of him, Harry lowered his arm to see Andrew, a son of Hermes, clutching a camera excitedly, his eyes practically sparkling as the developed photograph slid out. Blinking bemusedly at the sight, his eyebrows shot up into hairline as he saw the sight behind Andrew, a few dozen or so demigods standing with a large, bright pink 'thank you' over their heads.

"The fuck am I seeing?"

"A thank you note, I guess," Chiron's amused voice came over from his left, and he gave the aged, immortal Centaur a withering glare at the words. Turning his eyes once more towards the gaggle of demigods, Harry felt some of that irritation bleed away as he noticed that quite a few Aphrodites were also standing there, all looking at him as if he was an oasis in the middle of the Sahara. Given that his accelerated puberty—something that was more evident than other demigods given the power of his father—made him look like a thirteen-year-old at the age of ten, Harry didn't really have a problem with it. Though, maybe that was because he was the son of the horniest God in their pantheon, or any pantheon in different mythologies? His thoughts of Bella's rather spectacular bubble butt as she posed in those jeans were cut off as Chiron laid a hand on his shoulder, his voice soft and…fatherly? "I am glad you are up and well, my boy. You don't know how much you scared me with the stunt you pulled, and how proud I am of you. You saved us all quite a lot of casualties and damage that day Harry, the Hydra would have demolished half of the camp before we would have defeated it. I th-thank you Harry, for saving this old centaur much heartbreak and sadness."

"Oh come on now, Chiron," Harry muttered, blushing a bit at the praise and genuine affection in his voice. He rubbed the back of his head and the centaur squeezed his shoulder and patted his back, pushing him towards the demigods. "I did what anyone would have done…though, I won't mind a few days of leave from the watch and patrol duty if you are that grateful."

Chiron just snorted at the words, and Harry grinned as he walked forwards, trying his best to not show how much pain his abdomen was causing him. Honestly, what use were the literally harder-than-steel abs he had?! Though, given how randy the demigods were most of the time, maybe they had some use after all. He shook his head, wondering if his lust and horny nature were going to increase with each passing year, even as he took a long look at the lineup of Aphrodites standing a little apart from the other kids. By the Gods, he would have prayed to his father for help…but he'd run the risk of Zeus somehow increasing his rising libido instead of guiding him.

Or he would do the helping, only to help himself to the mature, buxom, voluptuous women of the camp himself. He strangely disliked that thought very much. Very, very much. Shaking his head once again, Harry raised an eyebrow as Ashley, the son of Apollo who had treated him after his first quest came forwards, a broad, beaming smile on his face. It was so reminiscent of Michael that for a moment, he went back in time, to the days when the older demigod had taught him about different things.

"Heya Harry," Ashley grinned, ruffling his hair fondly, "What is with you and venoms, dickhead? First a Chimera, then a hydra, and now you top them both by getting injected by The Hydra! You sure you are not going to fight the Pit Serpent next?"

"I don't have any plans of fighting any snakes which can swallow a man whole, thank you very much."

"You just jinxed yourself, Harry," Ashley shook his head sadly, a sympathetic expression on his face, "I just felt a change in your fate. I fear you have tempted the wrath and interest of the Moirai, my dear boy. They have decided that you will fight a serpent big enough to swallow your ass whole. So it has been ordained by them! And so it has been noted by my Father!"

"Bitch please," Harry deadpanned at the dramatically posing son of Apollo, all of his lust and fantasies vanishing into a pit of despair and irritation. If something like that wasn't in his fate before, it surely was going to be now, what with Ashley tempting the Fates by proclaiming it as a jest. Fucking bastard! "Now that you have made my future, tell me about what happened after I cut the Hydra's necks. I don't remember anything after that."

"Uh-Hydras necks. Right," the boy nodded, honestly a little scared by the momentary glare the younger demigod had thrown at him. Seriously, was this what his father felt like in front of the Big Three? Powerless and small? Dispelling those thoughts from his head, he looked at the repaired walls and continued. "Well, you had already roasted half of the monsters with that rainfall plus lightning combo—which by the way, has earned you the nickname Darth Potter, or Darth Evans depending upon which name the campers use. So, after you used your lightsaber to behead each of the monster's necks, you fell to the ground. Your stomach was damaged badly from its compound venom. Honestly, it is a little fascinating, since I found neurotoxins, cytotoxins, and hemotoxins, all three inside your blo-"

"Ashley, can you tell me about what happened first? I really don't have any interest in some venom that was destroying my insides in three different ways."

"Um-sorry, its just I want to be a toxicologist…and I am gonna shut up now," Ashley stopped his sheepish explanation as Harry sighed beside him, sparks dancing across his midnight-black hair for a moment. Gulping quietly, the son of Apollo resumed recounting the events of that night, "The Ares campers once again entered the fray, slaughtering the remaining monsters while I and a few others tried to keep you stabilized. Your skin on the right side was completely torn up, Harry. It was so bad that we had to pour pure nectar directly on your wound, otherwise, the slightest movement could have resulted in your very guts spilling out of the side. We slowly brought you back inside, and two or three times, I feared we had lost you simply because of the massive blood loss you were experiencing. We poured nectar down your throat, along with the medicinal herbs to improve blood regeneration and flush out the toxins in your body. We had to remove that section of skin from your abdomen, and pull out the Hydras fangs from your flesh."

"That sounds…nasty and dangerous."

"It was, disgustingly so," Ashley shivered, almost gagging as he remembered the blackened, flaked flesh and organs that had greeted him once they had cut open Harry. Each fang held several milliliters of half a dozen different types of toxins, each more potent than anything found in the mortal world. It was only the sheer amount of lightning he had absorbed before and after the attack, as well as his own power that had kept him alive by that point. Otherwise, had there been any other circumstance, then Ashley was sure that the demigod would have died a horrible, agonizing death—literally getting dissolved away from inside had to be painful. It had taken them hours to operate upon him, making incisions, pulling out the fangs left behind, and pouring nectar inappropriate, precise quantities. But in the end, they had taken all twelve fangs out of him, and each one was somewhere between three to six centimeters long. "You were literally rotting and melting away from the inside Harry. If the Hydra had gotten even a single fang more inside you, then I am not sure we would have been able to save you, especially since you also had an overdose of divine energy…once again. We couldn't use too much Nectar or Ambrosia without setting you up for an explosion, and we couldn't use less than what was required, otherwise, the venom would again start to progress. This...this was the toughest, hardest test of our skills as Healers, Harry. Bloody hell, it was probably the toughest operation in the history of medicine."

"Uh…sorry?" He hedged, rubbing the back of his head once more, looking down at his stomach. He hadn't really considered it before…but Apollo Campers really got way less praise than they deserved. Every Demigod could kill a monster—sure, Ares and Hephaestus cabins would have an easier time of it, and the less said about him, the better. But given time, every demigod could kill monsters. The same couldn't be said for the healing that the Apollo kids performed. They had a gift for it that no one could replicate. They instinctively knew how much nectar, how much ambrosia, how much whatever grass they picked up was needed for an injury or treatment. Intricate, delicate operations which would have required several years of study in the mortal world, physiotherapy, and a literal healing superpower that each of them possessed to a different degree.

Some of them specialized in one facet of healing or the other, much like how a demigod inherited one facet of their parent's domain more than the others. Ashley, he had come to know after his fight with that chimera, was especially talented in dealing with toxins and poisons. He was much better at sensing them in the patient's body, and he…well he was leagues ahead at treating poisons than the others. "Thanks, Ashley," he spoke up, his voice small but grateful, something which made the son of Apollo blush—it was rare that he got to employ his talents in the infirmary, "How many did we lose this time?"

"Eighteen," he answered, as they came to a stop in front of the training grounds, and he frowned, looking down at the demigod. "Nope. You aren't in any state to train yet Harry. Your insides are nothing more than tenderized meat right now, and the lingering effects of the venom are slowing your natural healing. You do anything drastic, and you will vomit your guts out."

"Understood Doc," he nodded, but given the bored look on his face, Ashley knew that Harry wasn't going to listen to him, Right in front of his eyes, he hobbled over to the area where the Hephaestus campers were sitting, replenishing the traps and various mumbo jumbo they had expanded in the last week's attack, "Hey Brainy, do you have those batteries you were talking about. The one you said was strong enough to power a block for two days straight?"

"I do pipsqueak," Brandon, or Brainy as the camp knew him nodded, his auburn hair pulled into a bun and his big, muscular arms straining as he wound a thick wire of Celestial bronze around a cylinder, "What do you need them for? Just raise your hand and go Thor like you always do."

"Wonder Woman and Black Adam are better," he shot back instantly, gritting his teeth as his stomach flared, that little stumble somehow more painful than getting a punch to his nuts, "and I can't summon lightning right now. I am too tired, and I feel as if my stomach will come out of my throat if I do anything like that. So give me those batteries, and let me have some food you narcissistic asshole!"

"Pot, kettle," he deadpanned at the much younger demigod, his eyes moving over the bandages that were wrapped over his abdomen. He had not been here on the night of the attack, but the recordings of it were there to appraise him of how it went about. He was not a weak demigod by any means. Probably in the top five within the Ares and Hephaestus cabins for pure strength…but even a mere recording of that Hydra had shaken him to its core. While they used to poke fun at the legends of Bellerophon and Hercules as kids, seeing that clip reminded him of the gap that existed between him, and someone who could fight true monsters like that. And win. Nodding at Simons, he watched as Harry followed his younger sister, his gait unsteady and his skin unhealthily pale, "Leave some for me, will you? I am trying to make a car for the camp!"

"Will do!" He called out, waving his hand above his head. However, his attention was next grabbed by Ashley, as the son of Apollo sat down beside him and looked at the coils he was creating.

"What are you doing?" He asked, and Brandon sighed, too tired to explain the mechanics of the trap he was developing—only for Ashely to elaborate his question the next moment, "Why are you helping Harry?"

"Should I not?" He grunted in response, baffled by the question as he threw a look at his siblings, one they understood all too well as they nodded and took away their things, leaving them both alone, "I am not like those cunts from the Athena cabin, Ashley. I don't care that he was born despite the Oaths they took."

"Its just…most of the camp avoids him, you know," he sighed in response, picking up a blade of grass and twisting it, "Except for Aphrodite and Apollo cabins, everyone behaves as if he is some time bomb waiting to go off. He doesn't show it on his face, but I know that on some level, he is hurt by it. I just didn't want someone taking advantage of his strength and offering a shoulder only to snatch it away as a joke."

"I have better things to do than play with a kid's emotions," Brandon snorted, picking up a plier and cutting the wire, grunting as the thick cord broke with a sharp sound. And he would be stupid to pick a fight with a kid like that, "Saw the recordings of the fight. Never thought we'd see the Hydra attack the camp."

"Something is happening in the world Brandon," Ashley mumbled, uncharacteristically serious, enough so that Brandon gave his full attention to the son of Apollo. His eyes were staring at the blade of grass in his hands, but his gaze was somewhere far away, unfocused and heavy, "Old and powerful monsters are beginning to stir again. The Hydra, the Higher Drakon those years ago, the sudden appearance of several Tier 4 monsters…and my blood hums when I am near Harry. Something big is coming Brandon, and it is centered around him. He is…part of some world-changing prophecy, and he-he is the herald of a new age."

"Do you think it is that one?" Brandon asked, his hands stilling upon the coils as he looked in the direction Harry had gone, "The Prophecy we found in Chiron's office?"

"I don't know," Ashley shook his head, remembering the bone-chilling words of the Great Prophecy they had discovered in Chiron's office, the parchment seemingly as old as civilization itself, "But whatever it is…it will be dark, it will be filled with death, and our lives won't ever be the same after it."

"Just another Tuesday then," the son of Hephaestus quipped after a few moments, a forced smile on his face as he tried to bury those morbid words in the back of his mind. Sighing heavily, Ashey gave him a weak smile and nodded, before his eyes turned toward the thing in his hands, "So, what are you making?"

"Just something that runt inspired me to make," he answered, picking up the knife and making some grooves in the top of the cylinder, "Basically, it will be part of a big machine I am building. Twelve lightning rods all around the camp will attract lightning whenever a storm passes overhead or Harry feels like feeding 'em, and that power will be stored in large, underground batteries. Whenever there is a monster attack, these will power the shock wires that I will lay around the border of the camp, as well as target the monsters whenever the system is activated."

"Huh? That's..cool."

"Better than your idea of shooting the Hydra with arrows."

"Fuck you Brainy."

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form, or I wouldn't be going through  Four years of college for ten hours a day.

AN-1: Hogwarts begins now, and properly by Chapter 14. That doesn't mean the demigod side of Harry's blood won't plague his life, in conjunction with his Potter Luck. Also, there are gonna be different Pantheons in this fic, and there will be a fair level of interaction with the whenever possible. Also, Harry is older in this fic, so obviously he won't be in the same year as canon in comparison to them.

AN-2: I have a Linktree, where you can read the NEXT FOUR CHAPTERS!

AN-3: The powerscaling in this fic is different than canon PJO, or even canon HP, and this will be more apparent as it goes on. While I won't have regular demigods being city destroyers or half of that, you can expect them to be more powerful than canon. Similarly, the monster will also be more tougher as the tale goes on and we come closer to Kronos arc and others.

But that is quite a bit of time away, so sit tight, and review!

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he read aloud, his eyes flicking over the rather…impressively loopy cursive that followed, as someone named Albus Dumbledore welcomed him to the…magical school. Picking up his bag, he walked towards the bus station, flicking the monster's blood off his daggers as the Cyclops behind him dissolved away. By his father, his life was weird. While the other eleven-year-olds around him were going to normal schools and still looked and acted like little kids, he was on his way to a fucking castle—with a body similar to an extremely well-built but lean 13-year-old. Reading onward, he raised an eyebrow as he saw the list of items that were necessary. Cauldrons, robes, parchments, quills, ink, ingredients, and last but not the least, a wand.

"No different than what Tim uses," he muttered, remembering the straw-haired son of Hecate who had crafted a staff for himself using Celestial bronze. According to the boy, it helped him in manipulating the mist, the divine metal acting as a conduit for his own internal magic and willpower. Given that Tim's mist manipulation was leagues ahead of his siblings, Harry was willing to believe the eccentric, oftentimes forgetful son of Hecate. Climbing into the bus, he took a ticket for Long Island, wondering about what he would learn in his new school.

Watching the buildings and trees roll by his window, Harry sighed and leaned his head against it. Honestly, in the last three years, he had completely forgotten that he was a wizard as well. Oh sure, he had realized at some point that his flames, telekinesis, and other little things were from his mother's blood, but still. He had been so busy being a demigod that…the fact that one day he would have to go back to Britain had slipped his mind completely.

A few minutes later, he walked into the camp, taking a look at the dark wood that was slowly being used to replace the previous walls. A creation from the Demeter cabin, the variety of oak was somehow stronger than steel by a fair margin, something about the inherent magic from their mother and a blessing from the said goddess making it possible. It was being used to replace every wall, starting with the innermost. While it wouldn't stop something like a Cyclops or a Tier 4, the lesser, smaller ones would be in a pickle in front of it.

Deciding to first tell his father about this, Harry walked towards his cabin, swatting an errant arrow away as he passed by the archery fields. There were a lot fewer people in the camp right now, he saw, having been away for a month. A lot of people had gone away for their schools and colleges, with only a couple dozen year-rounders remaining behind. Thankfully, with the fewer number of demigods in here, the number of monster attacks also lessened in number drastically each year at this time.

He walked into the Zeus Cabin, dropping his bag by the door before he turned towards the stark white, marble statue of the King of Gods standing in front of him. "Hello Dad," he began, waving a hand at it and letting a small bolt of lightning fly from his hands towards the bolt clutched in its hands. A way to catch Zeus' attention, he had realized a few days into his life inside here, and a moment later, the eyes of the statue glowed neon blue, signaling that Zeus was now listening to him. Holding up the parchments, Harry took a breath and began speaking, "So err…I got my Hogwarts letter, and I will be gone within a few hours to Britain to attend this school. Just wanted to let you know, and uh-have your blessings, Father."

'Hmm, right right. Your mother was a witch too, wasn't she? You have my blessing, dear son,' the voice of the King of Gods echoed in his head, and Harry smiled widely at the affection and warmth he could feel from it, 'In fact, I have a present for you on this momentous occasion. Go outside and wait by the entrance to the forest, it will be arriving shortly.'

With that, Harry felt his father's presence leave his psyche, and he ran out of the cabin towards the forest, eager to receive the present from his father—the first ever, he realized with happiness bursting inside him. He blitzed past the surprised form of Chiron, not even registering the Centaurs presence, his eyes firmly set upon the treeline as he reached out with his senses into the air, trying to detect even a hint of what might be approaching the Camp from the heavens.

A second later, the shriek of an eagle echoed in the air, and he tensed up in anticipation, wondering what sort of gift Zeus would have sent for him. The large bald eagle swooped in from the air and landed on his arm, and Harry grinned at him, feeling the avians joy at being close to him. Another facet of him being Zeus' son was that the birds were always happy to be around him, and sometimes, he could also understand their chirps and trills and shrieks. He tapped the bird's head, and it snapped its beak at his finger, flaring its wings as if daring him to try it again.

"So, what did father send?" He asked, looking at the parcel tied to the eagle's0 talons. It cried once, nipping his hand softly before it flew down to the ground, and Harry blinked at the sudden change in behavior from the bird. Kneeling down, he reached out to the thread tying the parcel to its leg, and the instant it was unraveled, the bird flew away with a loud, ear-piercing shriek. Bringing his eyes back to the parcel, he took the box from within the folds of the cloth and opened it, revealing a small, rolled-up piece of parchment inside it.

"A quest?" he raised an eyebrow and straightened it out, sitting down on the log behind him. Not a quest, he realized, seeing the dotted line running from an island to some unnamed place. It was a map, and whatever his gift was, he was meant to find it in the location his father had marked amongst what looked to be mountains…in the southeast of America, "Well, I always wanted to visit Miami."

"Why don't you take one of the pegasi to Britain with you?" Chiron asked, reading the letter from Hogwarts, his eyebrows rising into his greyed hairline as he read the name of the sender, "My word, I didn't know you would have such a man as your headmaster, Harry."

"You know him?" He perked up, pausing the packing of his possessions as he looked at the letter, "Is he a demigod as well?"

"No, he is not," Chiron shook his head, dropping the parchment down on the table as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, remembering the months he had spent in Europe decades ago, at the height of World War 2. He had met Albus Dumbledore there, battling dozens of wizards all by himself without breaking a sweat, while mortals had fought amongst themselves all around the place, "But he is no less impressive, or dangerous. He is regarded as the most powerful wizard alive today, and trust me, that title is well earned by him. While I don't know much about him, having met him decades ago and that too amidst the War…he seemed like a wise, intelligent man back then."

"So, he is like Gandalf?" He asked, remembering the wizard from the Lord of the Rings, with his long beard and wise advice. "How long do wizards live? He must be nearing his seventies or so if he fought in the war and was as good as you said."

"Hmm, he said he was born in 1881," Chiron answered, opening his eyes and smirking at the dumbfounded demigod in front of him. "Wizards have a longer lifespan than mortals, and while Dumbledore is probably white-haired and wrinkled now, he can still live for another five decades or so easily."

"Whoa," Harry gasped, looking at the letter in Chiron's hands as if it was the answer to all the questions of the Universe. "If they are so powerful, then why do they hide from the mortals? And why aren't there more demigods like me? Also, are they aware of the Gods?"

"I will start with the last one first," he said, grunting as he sat up and dropped the letter on the table. "Wizards and Witches are aware of Gods, and have been since they first appeared. They pray and sacrifice to them, but not on every meal as you do here at camp. On the important, special days of the year like the Equinoxes, Halloween, or Samhain as it is called in the Magical Circles. As for the second…do you remember what Lady Hestia told you when she first met you? You are the first demigod who is also a wizard and a long-time Harry. Gods avoid siring children with the mages, because of a few particularly powerful wizards that almost destroyed the world completely a millennia ago."

"And the first?"

"Well," Chiron began thoughtfully, before his lips spread into a smile and he chuckled, "I think some answers should be left for your teachers in Scotland Harry. After all, you are a wizard too, and you should learn your history by your people's tongues, not mine."

"Quite right, Chiron," the melodious, quite awaited voice of Hestia spoke up, and Harry watched with a grin as the Hearth Goddess flamed into existence before them. She was in her matronly, mature form right now, and with her arms spread by her side, that was all the invitation Harry needed to positively barrel into her. He hugged her tightly, relishing in the warmth and comfort she provided, mentally lamenting that now, for a major part of the year, he won't be able to hug his aunt. "I made some cookies for you Harry. Something to remember your old aunt by when you are in Scotland."

"You are not old," Harry frowned, looking up at her with a frown, before he amended his statement, "Well, you ar-err…What I mean to say is, no one could ever forget you, Aunt Hestia. You are the best! And I will find some way to hug you daily if I have to!"

"The admirable thing about you is, Harry, that I believe you," Hestia laughed brightly, ruffling his hair as she shared a smile with Chiron, before her amber irises turned back towards him. Her smile turned soft, and she kneeled down, placing her hands on his shoulder as she kissed his forehead, "But there is no need for that dear nephew. Whenever you wish to meet me or hug me, just speak my name into a flame and I shall appear."

"Mhm," he nodded, once more burrowing into her hug. "Father gave me a quest today, and I think I have to go to Florida for it. So I will start now, and try to finish it within a week. I want to come back in time so that I can learn more about the Wizarding World in Britain before Hogwarts starts."

"A smart choice," she nodded, ruffling his hair before she nodded at the door. "Well, since your Father has given you a quest, make haste to complete it. He is certainly not above punishing you if he takes offene for one reason or the other."

A frown came over his face at that, his eyes turning skyward for a moment as no sound of thunder came from the usually quite prickly King of Gods—Harry knew that much about his father, that and the rather unsavory history Zeus had written to his name. "Okay, Aunt Hestia," he nodded, kissing her cheek once before rushing out of the Big House, summoning the Hogwarts letters and various parchment that had arrived with it back to him. "I will bring you back a present from Miami, Chiron, and you too Auntie!"

"Do you think the Celts or the Norse will take offense to his presence in their shared territory?" Chiron asked as soon as the door was closed, erecting a barrier around the Big House to prevent any noise from exiting it, while Hestia made a ward to prevent anyone from magically listening to their conversation, "The last time a Greek demigod-wizard was in Europe…it almost caused a war between us."

"Well, Ekrizdis did create those demons," Hestia pointed out in return, making Chiron grimace as he remembered the white-haired, blue-eyed monster. "Underworld has a way of twisting people if you are not careful. For a new god like him…"

"I understand," the centaur nodded sombrely as she trailed off, a grimace flitting across his face before he turned towards the door. "The years slip by faster and faster each century. It feels like it was yesterday that I held an injured, eight-year-old Harry in my arms—and now he is amongst the strongest demigods here, rescuing others like himself, and has defeated The Hydra all by himself. With how the Fates are interested in him, and the weight of two broken oaths upon his life…I shudder to think what years, nay, decades we are looking forwards to."

"I do the same, Chiron." she sighed in return, sitting on the couch and summoning tea for both of them, "Will you go with him to Britain when he gets back from Florida?"

"Perhaps, or maybe I was thinking his aunt could go with him, spend a few days together," Chiron laughed, and Hestia giggled too. Besides Hades and Poseidon, Chiron was the only one she could be free with. It was not a bad thought though, she realised. Over the millennia, her brothers and sisters had sired many children. But Demeter's never bothered with her, all of them too busy with plants and farming and other things. However, sometimes, once in a century or three—for Poseidon and Hades at least, a demigod came along from either of her brothers, who called her aunt and cared about her beyond having the favour of a goddess.

"I might," Hesita nodded, beaming at Chiron, "It is not as if I have any active engagements here in America. Although, it all depends on whether Harry wishes for it or not."

Chiron stared at her, deadpan, and Hestia had the grace to look away from him with an embarrassed smile at that. "You think that Harry will ever refuse your company? He sees you as his mother, Hestia, whether he realizes it or not. Besides, you need a break from the daily life of camp and Olympus anyway. I am sure he will be thrilled to have your company."

"Well," Hestia smiled brightly as she stood up, and flames began to swallow her from feet up, "I better go to Athena for the best destinations in the British Isles. And I have to take permission from the Celtics and the Norse too, to set foot in their territory."

"Take some cookies for him, will you? I swear the boy eats nothing else when they are at hand."

Using the mist to manipulate the senses of the mortals around him, Harry opened the window beside him and slipped out of it, climbing on the top of the bus as it cleared out of the tunnel…right above a bridge. Tilting his head to pop his vertebrae, Harry looked down at the valley below them, the cliffy mountains and the barely there shrubs surrounding him on all sides.

Walking to the edge of the bus' roof, he rose into the air and dropped down a moment later on the asphalt. Summoning the daggers to hand, affectionately named Thorns by Ashley, he bent his knees a little, and jumped. The road beneath him cracked and cratered as he shot up into the air, and reaching well over a height of a hundred feet above the bridge, he glanced down at the rocky land below him, floating in the air under his own power.

Dropping down towards the cliffs, he slammed his daggers into them just as he passed by them, gritting his teeth and tensing he stopped his descent. Pulling back the right one, he stabbed it above him and did the same with his left, beginning the climb to the top of the cliff. Ordinarily, he would have just landed on the cliff top from the height, but he didn't want to draw any unwanted attention from accidentally causing a landslide—with how durable and strong his body was, along with all that power he would have gained with the height, that was a guarantee.

Grunting as he came up on the flat surface, Harry stared at the evening sun before him wondering if his brother was watching over him. Shaking his head a moment later, Harry started walking forwards, sheathing the knives and summoning his backpack out of his pockets, which enlarged to its regular size as he slung it over his back.

"Now what would Father have me do he-huh?" Harry stopped his words as he felt something in the Earth…dig towards him, and it was gaining more and more speed by the second. He turned westwards, distastefully using his powers as the Earthshaker's son to feel the vibrations more keenly…and his face paled of color rapidly. Whatever the creature was, it was massive, and massive creatures were never the easy ones to deal with. As if agreeing with him, the scars on his abdomen throbbed with phantom agony, and Harry took a step back, pulling on his powers to rise into the air to deal with whatever was coming at a range.

However, before he could do so, he sensed something abnormal in the sky above him. A spark of power, eerily similar to what the appearance of a thunderbolt felt like was sensed by him, and his eyes widened as in a fraction of a second, that little spark reached the energy of a hundred thunderbolts combined into one!

'Holy fucking shit!' He paled even more, looking in the sky just in time to see a bright flash of light, dark clouds condensing into existence as lightning flashed within them. And that bright flash of electricity, Harry saw the silhouette of a large bird, its four wings flapping slowly as its vicious, furious shriek resounded from above, 'Just my luck, getting caught up between a giant stormbird and a giant worm of some kind. What kind of fucked up quest is this, Father?!'

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO.

AN-1: New college year has started, so the first two weeks were tough on the time, but there will be two more updates this month.

AN-2: I have a Linktree, which you can join to read the NEXT FOUR CHAPTERS right now, just follow the link on the profile.

An explosion of dirt and rocks happened right below him, and at the same time, a gigantic bolt of lightning dropped from the skies above him. Using every ounce of agility in his body, he pushed against the large chunk of stone beneath his feet, heaving up from the force of the giant creature's exit, barely avoiding the large mandibles that came up to snap at him. However, he was not quick enough to avoid the lightning that came from the stormbird, the pure unadulterated electrical energy striking him on his head and driving him into the ground. It was…strange, a part of his mind reflected even as he screamed. It had been years since electricity had made any negative impact on his body.

But this? This felt worse than a dozen of Ares' kids punching him at the same time. His veins burned, and his blood boiled as he was roasted by the somehow dangerous lightning. An angry shriek echoed throughout the cliffs as his vision blacked out for a second, his body being roasted from the inside even as he felt the lightning dissipate into the ground. Shuddering and gasping for breath as he trembled and shook from the aftershocks, Harry used his own abilities over electricity to make muscles stop seizing—which was still difficult with how the bird's lightning seemed to be different than the normal one.

A stone dropped on his head as the ground rumbled violently, and Harry winced as the whole cliff shook as whatever the fuck had crawled out of the ground once again dove down. Groaning as he moved out of the shallow hole his body had carved into the rock, he glanced up just in time to see another spark of white appear in the air. Swearing mentally, he kicked off the ground and jumped back, barely avoiding the pillar of lightning that the bird once again shot at him.

'What in the name of Father is that?' He raged in his mind, summoning his xiphos to his hand as his eyes zoomed in on the strange, four-winged avian. Bronze and gold feathers covered it from head to two, with shades of blue and grey shimmering in between as it hovered in its place. A crest of gold adorned its head, and its neon blue eyes stared at him from across the gap between them as sparks danced across its body. 'A giant eagle with control over lightning?! One of Fathers creations?!'

Dark clouds gathered around the stormbird, and at the same time, Harry felt something humongous move inside the cliff below his feet. 'The worm thing' he realised, shocked at the ease the thing displayed as it swam in the rocks, 'Have to take that out first. The bird can't possibly kill me in one hit, but can't say the same about those mandibles.'

Looking around himself, Harry bent his knees and jumped up, the ground cratering beneath his feet as he shot towards the next cliff. Behind him, he felt the underground monster erupt out of the ground, its roar shaking the whole canyon below them as stones and boulders once again flew into the air. The bird shrieked in what Harry assumed was anger, and he watched it swoop down toward the monster behind him right as his feet touched the surface once again. Rolling forwards and turning around, his jaw dropped open as he saw the full size of the worm for the first time.

Black mandibles thrice as long as himself greeted him first as they snapped at the thunder-bird, and he followed them back to the cavernous maw that was filled with hundreds of teeth. Above the circular mouth, six pale green eyes sat in a single row, black pupils glaring out at the avian in anger as its brown-white body writhed and slithered with the help of its numerous pointed legs. Segmented plates covered it completely, and if his past experience with myrmekes was anything to go by, then it was definitely going to be a hassle to cut through them. Breathing in deeply, Harry concentrated on the sky above him, and grasped the residual…energy from the bird. Grunting with the anger and excitement both that flowed through him, he roared loudly and jumped up, a bolt of lightning falling down upon him as a miniature storm formed in the skies.

The worm and the bird both turned towards him at that, and his eyes glowed neon blue as electricity arced off his body onto the red stone below. The avian shrieked as it instantly flew up, its own body lighting up with sparks and currents, while the creature roared in anger and reared up, raising its body like a snake as its legs clicked together rapidly. He neared its pale white underside, bringing up his xiphos and screaming wildly as he slammed into its midsection.

A terrible screeching filled his ears as the insect chittered and suddenly shifted to its right, and Harry floundered for a moment. He concentrated on the air around him, intent on diverting his momentum just enough to somehow reach the exoskeleton covering the centipede. However, before he could do anything, the insect hit him with a swing of its head, swatting him away with what felt like a battering ram made of celestial bronze—and wielded by the strongest of Hephaestus' and Ares' kids. It all happened so fast that Harry didn't even have the time to process anything before he slammed face first into the rocks ahead.

The lightning around him dissipated, and he groaned in deja vu as he felt his head ring slightly from the two feet of stone it had dug through. The shroud of electricity over his body disappeared, and so did the cloud created by him as he lost his focus for a moment. He felt something huge move through the air rapidly, and just as he managed to somewhat bring himself out the centipede's tail slapped down on his head. It was only thanks to his demigod physiology and the fact that he was a freak even by Half-Blood standards that his head wasn't turned to a pulp, or at least, grievously wounded. However, it wasn't to say that it didn't harm him. The ground shattered beneath him as he was pounded into the rock, the segmented plates that made up the centipede's armor scraping along his clothes and tearing them as dust rose up around them. Beneath them, the ground shook terribly, and Harry felt some kind of…energy pass from the giant monster into the ground, shaking and cracking the very foundations of the cliff they were on.

Growling in anger as he heard the centipede chitter and its weight shift, he reached inside him, searching for the power that he had avoided using as much as he could. The ground rumbled beneath him strongly, and he felt the earth on a level he never had before. His eyes glowed a faint sea green as the Earthshaker's blood within him sang with power, and he felt the centipede's actions more keenly now that he was a part of the Earth itself. He felt how each of its pointed, sharp legs was touching the round in rapid succession as it slithered from side to side, its body swaying through the air as the monster hissed and clicked its mandibles.

A part of its body lost contact with the ground, and Harry grunted as he realized what it was going to do. Bringing his hand up, he formed a fist and struck the earth with it, using as much power as he could in such a short distance. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact, and the cliff shook for a moment from the force of his punch as the loose rocks fell to the ground with a heavy rumble. Behind him, the monster lost its balance for just a moment, the tail that was heading for his body instead slamming a few feet away from him, further adding to the destruction of the mountain.

The centipede shrieked with what Harry assumed to be irritation, and he once again felt its weird magic act up as it slammed its head into the ground…and simply sank into it? He rose to his feet, summoning his xiphos back to his hand, and turned around, watching the at least hundred-foot-long centipede disappear into the earth as if it was swimming into a portal.

For a moment, all he could do was gape at the sight of the humongous thing vanishing into hard rock, able to sense just how fast the large insect was moving through solid stone below his feet. It was as if he was sensing a fish cut through water, the centipede's magic somehow molding and reshaping the stone around it, before it reformed around it. Growling in irritation, he raised his foot, intent on shaking the whole cliff apart to expose it…but right then, the electric eagle decided to remind him of its presence.

His senses flashed red, and he looked up just in time to watch the bird spread its four wings wide, every spark on its feather converging on its chest. Even through the hundreds of feet separating them, he could see the fury in its glowing eyes, the angry neon blue within promising to burn everything away with its power. Its beak opened as the ball of power in front of it grew to the size of its head, and with a scream that nearly made his ears bleed, dozens of bolts of lightning shot toward him. His eyes widened momentarily, before his mind raced to find a way to avoid the multiple lances of soul-searing pain arcing toward him.

He couldn't ground it like he could normal electric bolts, he knew that from the stiffness and numbness lingering in his muscles—and neither could he absorb it, the bird's magic somehow opposing his father's blood with an ease and power he never could have expected. In the end, he decided to just run and hope that his divine heritage granted him enough agility to evade literal lightning. Using the technique that he had used for the first time he had accessed his father's power, he let the electricity in his blood emerge to the surface…and he watched the lightning slow down by a fraction as the divinity in his body gave him a sense of hyperawareness to his surroundings.

Dashing to his right, he threw his Xiphos behind him, feeling the hair on his neck and head rise up slightly. He felt one of the bolts divert midway to his xiphos, the divine metal so attuned to electricity after years in his hands that it was far more conductive than the first time he had channeled lightning through it. He stumbled on a loose rock, and reflexively pushed against the ground, but with the augmented state of his body, it was enough to send him into the air. He turned around just as his feet left the surface, alarm on his features as he watched the glowing electricity reach out towards him—the ends branching out into hundreds of strands as if to cover every chance of him escaping.

He had messed up badly, Harry realised. Since the Hydra incident, he had only grown stronger, and at the same time, he hadn't augmented his body even once. He had mistakenly used too much power, and now he was in the air, with no time or chance to avoid the thousands of volts of magical electricity coming at him. However, in the final second that was left before contact, a single thought dominated his entire mind, stemming from his past experience with the bird's electricity, as well as an instinctive need to avoid pain.

To somehow block the lightning.

Just like it had answered his desires all those years ago in the cave with the chimera, his mixed heritage once again did so—the magic of wizards and the power of the God of Thunder, as well as the Stormbringer merging together to protect him from the magical lightning. A shield formed around him, its pale blue surface crackling with tiny, deep blue trails of electric energy as it covered him on all sides. A moment later, the lightning hit it with an ear-deafening boom, an explosion of white and blue launching him backward at breakneck speeds as the shield evaporated from the sheer power behind those bolts.

He fell through the gap between the rocky hills, the wind rushing through his ears as his whole body went numb. His right hand was burnt, and so was half of his face along with his right eye being nothing but a ruptured, dried socket…but he was alive. Vision slowly returned to his left eye, and Harry bit his lip at the stinging sensation that began to come from his hand and face, each inch feeling as if someone was stabbing him with needles. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the sandy ground he was about to meet, and with an effort born from desperation as well as familiarity with pain, he slowed his free fall to a somewhat controlled descent. He fell on a few shrubs, and numbness in his body disappeared with a world of pain as the branches rubbed off the blisters and burnt skin on his head and arms. His back arched reflexively as he writhed for a moment, his head feeling as if it had been split apart and then smashed back together.

However, he knew he didn't have more than a few moments of peace— agonizing as it was, at least it was without lightning bolts or large mandibles— and with a heavy, rasping groan, he slowly rose to a seated position. Black spots danced in front of his lone eye, and he almost lost his balance as pain flared up across his whole body. While the hastily, instinctively created shield had saved him from the majority of the lightning, it hadn't been enough to protect him completely. Stumbling and trembling like a leaf in a storm, he somehow stood on his feet, swaying for a moment as he felt the world spin around him. Something gnawed at the edges of his senses, a constant buzz in his already frayed mind, and Harry winced as the stormbird's victorious cry echoed through the area.

He brought his right hand to his chest, and opened his left fist, mentally summoning his sword back to his hand as he glared at the darkening skies above. Against the small smattering of stars now visible, he watched a blur cut through the air, the bird leaving behind a streak of lightning as it once again started glowing. With his depth perception gone, Harry was left with only about a few minutes in which he had to somehow defeat both of the monsters who had decided to make a snack out of him, and given the large shape of the centipede moving towards him from his right…it was probably going to be a battle royale.

The large insect crawled out of the mountain on his right, its numerous eyes even more menacing in the shadows they were standing in as it rapidly moved and coiled upon its long body. Its mandibles clicked together, and Harry grunted as his xiphos materialized in his palm, his single emerald eye glaring with rage and hate at the monstrous face of the creature. Above them, dark clouds formed in the skies as he slowly but surely lost control of his emotions, all the pain and the ever-present fury within his heart boiling to the surface in a maelstrom of power and wrath. Adrenaline flowed in his veins, dulling the throbbing pain in his body and the sting in his ruined eye and hand. Thunder roared overhead, and he dimly heard the bird cry out as fierce winds began to swirl through the rocky landscape. The centipede chittered as lightning once again flickered over his body, and it shot forward like an arrow loosened from a bow. With the lack of depth perception, Harry relied on pure instinct as he jumped into the air, summoning lightning from the clouds above as he swung his sword.

The crackle of thunder echoed amidst the rocks as bolts of pure annihilating power dropped from the heavens above. His sword glowed white as lightning struck its edge, and he felt his aches disappear as electricity traveled through his body, rejuvenating and healing some of the damage he had taken. Time seemed to slow down for him as he neared the centipede's head, his mouth open in a savage scream as his singular eye glowed neon, and his fingers tensed upon his sword's hilt. However, he had forgotten about two crucial things. First, that he had made the jump without a proper judgment of distance between him and his target—and second…that they weren't alone. His eye widened a little as he realized that he had once again overshot, and Harry bent his legs, intent on using the wall behind the insect to rebound at its head, but before he could do so, its tail came whipping at his airborne form.

He bent his body backward and swung his arm with all the power he could muster, his sword's edge glowing white hot as electricity sparked all over it. He screamed madly as he felt the centipede's tail connect with his sword, and it cut through the hard, chitinous exoskeleton like a hot knife through butter. The monster chittered and gave out a horrifying shriek as its insides were fried due to the lightning infused in his body and sword both, and Harry grinned as pungent, pale yellow blood splashed upon his chest and face. Completing the spin, he landed feet first on the cliff, and shot back towards the twisting and writhing insect…but a fierce wind blew from the right, and sent him hurtling away like a leaf in a storm.

'Fucking piece of electric turkey' he snarled mentally as he slammed into a boulder, crumbling it to pieces and dust instantly as he struck it with a fist, his lone eye glaring at the silhouette of the large bird. Its four wings flapped once more, and this time, he felt the magic in those wings enhance the winds produced by the motion…turning a simple breeze into a stormwind. Raising his sword hand, he pointed his blade at the bird, and a grunt of exertion, brought down another bolt upon it as the centipede rapidly burrowed into the ground.

Two down, one more left in the tank.

The bird and the insect both screamed as lightning touched their bodies, but a part of him should have realised that it wouldn't affect the bird much. With a burst of its own power, it disappeared from the spot and appeared a few feet away, smoke rising from its body as it jittered and shook, wings flapping unsteadily in the aftermath of the foreign lightning it had experienced for the first time. However, by the time he had watched the bird teleport and fly low to the ground, the centipede had completely vanished from his sight, its grounded body and its chitinous armor protecting it from the worst of electricity.

"Fuck!" He rasped, stretching out his senses into the ground, only to blink in shock when he realized where it had decided to head first. He watched with shock and a little awe as it erupted out of the stone right next to the shivering, panting eagle, its mandibles spread wide and its cavernous mouth open in a nightmarish scream. The eagle cried out in shock and alarm, and it tried to fly away—however, the aftershocks of Harry's attack prevented it from doing so…and thus, the powerful stormbird was reduced to a sitting duck in front of a centipede that was more than a hundred feet long. It rapidly coiled around the bird, its thick body constricting powerfully as the eagle squawked in surprise, stumbling back and falling to the ground. A bright flash of light came from the bird as it teleported in a flash of lightning, and Harry looked up as it appeared a few dozen feet above the ground—only, the centipede was still attached to it, and now it had the room to move its head.

It was all over in a second. The centipede's head shot forwards like a bullet, its mandibles sinking into the chest of the bird with an audible, wet sound as electricity and glowing blue blood came pouring out, while its large mouth closed on on the helpless things head even as its beak opened to let out a cry of pain. Even as they fell through the air to the ground, the insect closed its mouth and snapped its mandibles once, finishing the stormbird in a single bite as its struggling body went limp. They crashed onto the ground in front of him, dust and stones blowing away in all directions…and Harry clenched his eyelid shut as some got into his eye.

Deciding to avoid a grounded fight with the deadly creature, he flew up into the air, mapping out the surrounding area with his control over the winds and earth both as he avoided a hanging tree and reached the apex of the mountain. Returning his sword to its bracelet form, he rubbed his left eye, cursing his luck for having no water at hand. Just as he got the last vestiges of the dust out, he felt the centipede enter his range once more, the insect rapidly ascending the mountain's insides. On his last legs as he was after all the damage he had taken in the last few minutes, Harry knew that he wasn't in a position to drag this out for much longer. He only had the strength for one more lightning bolt left inside him, and based on the last one, he knew it wouldn't work on the centipede. He could try cutting its head off, but it was a gamble he didn't have the luxury of taking at the moment.

But, as he felt the centipede crawl out into the open…an idea struck him out of nowhere. Distasteful as it was, the Earthshaker's powers had saved his life before when he had first awoken them against the chimera, and against this creature too…it seemed like he would need to actively use them. He remembered that anger, that loathing, that sheer hate which had flowed through him when he had grabbed the jaws of the chimera…and when he looked at the sea each day in the camp—and he glared down at the six-eyed insect, its body rapidly moving over the cliff as the monster stared up at him.

The ground rumbled beneath him, and he heard the centipede screech in alarm for a moment as a section of the cliff next to it cracked. His eye glowed green, and Harry snarled as he dived down. A strange urge came from within his mind, his instincts guiding him along as he felt something emerge out from within him. Something traveled up his arm, a shivering feeling that left his hair standing on the end as the clouds above him rumbled with fury. Time slowed for him as he brought his fist back, his half-ruined mouth settling in a gruesome smile as lightning flashed behind him.

His final thunderbolt of the night came roaring from above him, silhouetting his falling body against the bright flash as his single eye glowed bright. The centipede opened its maw, its mandibles poised to snap his body in half as it too rose to its full height. It screeched loudly, hundreds of teeth in its circular mouth staring back as its six eyes focused upon him, and he roared back in return. Every fiber in his body tensed up, every bone and muscle pushed to the limit as he tightened his fist to the maximum. The mandibles started to close in as the distance between them reduced to single digits, and Harry grunted as the lightning bolt finally reached them, slamming into him, and through him, striking the open mouth of the centipede. Shocked by thousands of volts traveling directly inside its body, the centipede screamed and started to recoil wildly, two of its eyes popping into bloody messes as one of its mandibles shattered away.

However, it was too late.

Before it could move more than a foot, Harry reached its head. His glowing green eye stared into the centipede's as his left fist came down sharply…and struck its head right in the middle. Something happened as he did it, the strange power, the weird feeling in his arm traveling through his fist into the centipede…and its head simply burst apart into chunks of meat, exoskeleton and blood like a watermelon. He crashed into the headless body of the insect, tearing through the dying, wriggling corpse as his fist too shattered in the next moment. He slammed into a boulder, breaking it open as his body rolled to a stop, covered in centipede gore and dust. Beside him, one of the mandibles landed with a dull thud, followed by the rest of the body of the centipede, its numerous legs somehow still moving a little, its yellow blood gushing out in gouts from its underside and where its head had been.

Blackness started to close in on his vision as a wave of exhaustion hit his body like a semi, and he groaned pitifully as every single muscle in his body screamed in tiredness. A shuddering gasp left his mouth as his head rested back against the sand, staring at the outcropping on his left. His eye closed for a moment, and he barely managed to open it as he took a deep breath, feeling numbness spread through his body as his head began to throb from the inside. As his eye once again closed, the last sight he saw was a brief flash of light, which illuminated the rock and bushes upon the cliff's edge, where a bronze egg rested undisturbed.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO.

AN-1: Hogwarts has started for SOS in the coming chapters, so kinda excited about this one here. Next update is most probably for TIC or Ascension, for those who follow either one or both of them.

AN-2: I have a Linktree, which you can join to read the NEXT FOUR CHAPTERS right now, just follow the link on the profile.

"Hesti-what in the name of Chaos happened?!" Chiron gasped, his welcoming smile evaporating away to leave behind a face blanched with horror as he saw the beaten and burnt body in her arms, recognizing it as Harry straight away, "Hades! We need to get him to the Apollo cabin right away!"

"They won't be able to heal him," Hestia shook her head, her irises glowing a brilliant golden as she hid the happenings of the Big House from everyone's view, her lips pursing together in displeasure as thunder boomed in the sky above. Shaking her head to dispel her thoughts, she walked forwards and glared at the couches, transfiguring them into the softest bed imaginable within a moment as she lowered Harry upon it. Healing wasn't amongst her domains, but as a goddess, she could do enough to delay Harry's death for a while. Splaying her hands open over his prone, pale body, her face twisted in a grimace at the sight of the burns and blisters covering him, his ruined eye, and the black veins visible across his body, the patches of skin around them slowly rotting.

"Then who shall, Lady Hestia?" Chiron gasped, coming forwards to look down at the young demigod as he took the flagon of nectar and poured a drop over the burns, almost jumping back at the violent hiss that came as the golden drop met the blackened flesh, "Do you think we should submerge him in water?"

"We don't know the degree of the Thalassa's healing he has inherited," she shook her head, waving her hand over his body, creating a golden dome over it as she used a measure of her domain over the Hearth and the Home to provide some nourishment to Harry's devastated body, grimacing as she felt the way it was utterly battered to the last bone. Turning towards Chiron, she took in his grim countenance before she looked back at the demigod she had come to view as her own child, "No…Harry needs Apollo's intervention if he is to survive."

"Why would he do so?" Chiron asked, his eyes snapping to the darkened sky outside, the worry and confusion in his tone echoing in the otherwise silent Big House, "and even if he has a reason to do so, how is he going to avoid the breaking of the Ancient Laws? We never know how the Styx or the Fates themselves might enact their retribution!"

She scowled at the words spoken by her brother, realizing them to be true. Even if she convinced her nephew to heal his brother—which Hestia fully believed that she could—there was no telling how and when the result of breaking the Ancient Laws would strike at them. And there was a very real possibility of all of it just coming down on Harry's head rather than going to her or Apollo.

"There is a way this can be avoided," Apollo's voice echoed around them as a bright pillar of golden-white light appeared before her, and Hestia looked on calmly as the brightness from the very Sun faded away to reveal the smiling form of her nephew. His eyes flicked between her and the immortal centaur in the room as he greeted them both, respect and adoration in his tone "Aunt Hestia, Chiron."

"Lord Apollo," the centaur lowered his head in respect, raising it once he heard the God of Medicine hum in response, "Won't your father take umbrage at your presence here?"

"He is rather busy right now to do so," Apollo smiled in response, his eyes turning towards Hestia for a moment, a knowing glint present in them before he chuckled and waved his hand, "But that is neither here nor there. So…what do we have here?"

"He was sent to Florida," Hestia mumbled as she saw Apollo peer down at Harry's prone body, his hands behind his back. The Sun God stopped and looked up at her for a moment at that, tilting his head curiously as he waved his hand over the barrier she had created over Harry's body. His hand glowed golden, and so did the shield over the dying demigod as Apollo straightened and conjured a goblet of wine in his hand. Besides him, Hestia glanced at the goblet, her eyes tightening for a moment before she continued, "There he fought with a Thunderbird and one of the giant centipedes that inhabit those lands."

"Nasty," he grimaced, frowning at the burnt socket of Harry's eyes, as well as the poison that was spreading through his body, "He didn't know about them I presume? Those insects have a weird makeup of their venom, which seems to burn through magicals faster, feeding upon the mystical energy present inside them and strengthening themselves with it like a parasite…and Harry went ahead to practically bathe in that creature's blood too. That along with the Thunderbird's lightning burning his body, and his own overuse of the divinity has messed him up real bad."

"Can you heal him?"

"Of course, I can," he scoffed, waving his hand dismissively before he paced his hand below his chin and looked down at the dying boy speculatively, "But I can't do it…too much direct interference—even now I can feel the Ancient Laws pressing down on me, warning me to not even lay a finger on Harry. And Father will definitely realize it—and there is no telling what he will do as the Lord of Justice."

"Then what shall we do?" Chiron muttered, closing his eyes and cursing his own inadequacy in the healing arts as the sight of Harry's destroyed face flashed through his mind, "Can Lord Asclepi-"

"No, I'd rather keep him away from this," Apollo shook his head, vanishing the wine in his hand as he peered down at the demigod, "Besides, he is practically a slave to my Father ever since he has reformed. There is no doubt that the word of this will reach him before the task is even complete. He will gladly open up his mind to hi-wait…Hmm, yeah, I may have an idea."

"It is supposed to be my holiday Chiron," Aldrick grunted as he walked inside the Big House, ushering Abigail inside as he closed the door behind him, grunting at the lightning that flashed through the seemingly clear sky above him, "This is an ungodly hour to keep me awake, especially with the continuous night duty that you have saddled me with."

"That is quite enough Aldrick," Apollo spoke pleasantly, but with a firmness that belied his smile as he turned around in the chair, his toga replaced by a crisp white shirt and blue pants as he stood up. Chiron sighed as he saw the way both the demigods almost jerked back, their eyes wide and disbelieving before they dropped to their knees, their fists by their hearts. As Aldrick opened his mouth to initiate the traditional vows, Apollo waved his hand and rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face, "Stop with that nonsense Aldrick, Abigail. My children need not ever kneel before me, especially not when I am the one who has summoned them for…let's say a quest."

"A quest?" Abigail's eyes brightened up, and the Sun God smiled at her lovingly, once again cursing the paranoia and the sheer fucking assholery of his father that prevented them from interacting with their children—or at least, those that actually wanted to, "What do we have to do, Lord Apoll-"

"Father," he cut her off, shaking his head and raising a palm, "Call me Father, dear daughter…I get a rare enough chance to be called that as it is, so don't deprive me of the joy it brings me. Now, while I would love to spend this evening talking with you my dear, but unfortunately, we are a bit short on time."

"What do we need to do, Father?" Aldrick asked, his sky blue eyes shining with determination and hope both as he stood up, a vambrace materializing on his right forearm, "Is it a monster hunt? Or an artifact retrieva-"

"Nothing like that, no," he shook his head, beckoning them forward with a finger as the smile on his face disappeared. Nodding his head in the direction of the open door to his right, Apollo continued, "I want you to heal a certain someone."

"Who are you talking about Father?" Abigail asked as he walked towards the door at the nod from him, and Aldrick paused as he saw her stiffen right as she looked into the room, a sharp, horrified gasp leaving her the next moment, "Is-Is that Harry?!"

"And he is in dire need of your help," Apollo said, walking towards the bed. He waved his hand to the side, and a table of medicinal equipment and salves and nectar appeared, "Everything you need is on this table, and under no circumstances are you allowed to fail this quest. Harry needs to be stabilized and the poison flushed out of his body as soon as possible. I understand that this is sudden and quite a tall task, but know this, Abigail, Aldrick…I am just a prayer away."

The barrier around his body dissolved away into tiny little sparks of light, and she gasped as the full extent of his injuries was revealed to her eyes. She gagged at the smell of rot and burnt flesh that permeated the room in seconds, and her eyes watered as she saw the black lines that had spread through most of his body. As someone who had been his friend ever since his first day, and seen him take down a Hydra…it was horrifying to see him like this.

Just what in the name of Hades had Harry fought?!

Gulping a little, Abigail jumped in her place as she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turning around, she saw the somber face of her brother staring down at her. "We don't have the time to freeze Abigail," he muttered softly, his blue eyes, so like her own firm yet understanding, "I understand how you are feeling, but we need to act fast. His vitals are falling, and the rot is spreading through his blood to his organs. Remove the burnt skin and apply the salve to the flesh beneath, while I work on the poison. Got it?"

"Ye-Yes Aldrick," she nodded, blinking the tears in her eyes away as she gulped again, feeling the dull ache in the back of her throat as she buried the sob threatening to leave her mouth, "D-Do you think we need a blood transfusion?"

"Yes we do," he mumbled, looking down at the cuts and scrapes covering the young demigod's body, "This is going to be a long night."

Nodding at his words, she mumbled a prayer to her father and got to work, grabbing the edges of the flaked, blackened skin and peeling it off his body piece by piece, grimacing a the sight of the raw, blistered flesh and the pungent, thick liquid that flowed from them. She cleaned the wounds, applying salves and dabbing at them with nectar as she bandaged his arm first, her body working almost mechanically as she performed the procedures she had performed a dozen times—and being one of the few healers from the Apollo cabin, she had been amongst the ones who had treated Harry after the Hydra attack.

On the other side of the bed, she could see Aldrick continue his own work. Incisions were made into his elbow and leg to drain out his blood, while the blood bags replenished it instantly. He poured the droughts and potions down his throat—and she saw how he grimaced every time at the sight of the empty eye socket that stared back at them every time they looked at Harry's face.

After about an hour of this, Harry was almost completely covered in bandages, with only his face left to clean and cover. As she wondered whether they were going to heal his eyes—or was he going to get a prosthetic one from the Hephaestus cabin, she heard Aldrick curse loudly.

"What happened?" she asked, looking up at her brother, her eyes widening at his deathly pale face's frustrated yet terrified expression. Her own heart started to beat faster as she looked at the partially-black blood in the bag hanging on his left…the blood which was supposed to be a fresh supply. She reached over and placed a hand on the tube connecting the bag to his body, the powers of healing she had inherited going to work even as she spoke, "What happened to the bloo-the poison?!"

"It contaminates every bag of blood I attach to his body!" Aldrick growled out, grabbing at his hair in frustration as he brought over a new bag, "This is the third one so far! And each time, the poison spreads through the blood before it can be flushed out completely or the fresh blood enters his body!

She gasped, feeling and seeing the truth of her brother's words as she sensed the absolutely fatal amounts of toxins in Harry's blood somehow, magically spread through the fresh blood. The poison seemed to practically consume the clean blood, spreading and infecting it faster than anything she had seen before—except for the time Harry had been bitten by the Hydra, but even then, it was a close contest.

Unknown to both of them, it was a two-fold result of the magical nature of the poison, as well as Harry's own constitution. Being a demigod of magical birth, Harry's blood and body, were quite different compared to the others around him, differences that weren't visible physically to anyone…but had a very drastic effect on his physiology. The effects of the various toxins found in magical creatures over the world were mostly the same for everyone, whether they be non-magical, demigods, or pure wizards.

However…Harry was a mixture of two of them, and he had ventured into the deep wild of the magical world without any protection against the poisons of the creatures that dwelled there. As such, his own magic was turning against him, feeding and strengthening the poison of the centipede, and unvaccinated against such things, his own body was powerless to stop it.

At the same time, the demigods had no anti-venom for the creature that had poisoned Harry, and neither had Apollo provided them with that specific cure when he had summoned the medical table. With the venom spreading through every bag of blood Aldrick had attached until now, and his vitals no closer to rising up than they had been when they had first come in, she felt a mountain of despair crush down on her soul.

Harry was going to die.

Her best friend, her hero, her Harry was going to die…and she was powerless to stop it.

A desperate plea rose in her heart as her eyes watered, her palm coming to rest atop his chest and feeling the gradually slowing heart beating within. She prayed to her Father as the ache in her throat returned, a sob breaking out past her lips as she felt the tears slide down her cheeks, her eyes fixated upon the burnt face that stared up at the ceiling. Ahead of her, Aldrick too looked down at the dying demigod grimly, realizing that there was nothing he could do to prevent Thanatos from taking Harry.

His eyes rose up to see his little sister as she dropped to her knees, her muffled sobs breaking his heart even more as she clutched at the motionless fingers that had always held her hand. He didn't have much interaction with the Son of Zeus, only knowing him ever since he came back in the talons of an eagle after Michael was killed. It was then that he had first begun to notice the guy—as had everyone, kinda hard not to with the brat being found to be the forbidden child the King of Gods had sired.

Over the years, he had talked to the boy only a dozen times or so, but he knew that he and Abigail were always joined at the hip whenever the boy was in the Camp. And his crass tongue aside, Aldrick knew him to be a good man at his heart, finding lost demigods and leading them to the camp, and not lording over his status as what amounted to basically the Prince of Demigods.

And today, he had been given a chance to save the guy who had saved two of his brothers.

Aldrick knew he wasn't going to cry. He was too old, too experienced, and too used to death for that shit, but it didn't mean he wasn't desperate to save Harry. And not just because it was a quest given by his Father, or because his slight affinity for the domain of prophecy was practically making his head burst right now.

But also because he knew that Abigail would shatter if anything happened to Harry.

And thus they prayed. brother and sister, son and daughter…both of them prayed to Apollo harder and more desperately than they had ever prayed before.

'Father…I ne-no, we need your help and guidance Father. I have tried every antivenom, every cure I could possibly try, and yet this poison simply spreads faster and faster with each moment.' Apollo stilled as he heard Aldrick's voice, looking in the direction of the Camp as the paper before him was signed, 'The potions have failed, and the blood is getting contaminated each and every time I try to change it…I don't know how to save him Father…I can't save Harr-'

'FATHER!' his son's voice in his head was completely lost beneath the scream that came from Abigail, his daughter's cry so full of despair and anguish that it tore at his heart—and even more so because he had deliberately made her a part of this…this farce. 'Save Harry Dad! I don't care what I have to do, but I can't watch him die Dad! You can't let him die, not like Michael did! Please Dad, I'll do anything for th-this, but please save him!'

"Thank you for that, Michael," he muttered, turning away from the singer before him as he vanished the paper back to his palace on Olympus, startling the guards and people all around him—and sending Michael Jackson falling over his ass, "But I shall be taking my leave now."

He disappeared from the backstage room, already feeling the mist go to work, altering and changing the memories of those around him. Appearing back in the Big House, he raised a hand to silence the question that was no doubt coming from Chiron, his blue eyes emitting a faint white glow as he walked towards the room in which his children were, "Later Chiron, for now, prepare me a cup of tea—the one with the rose petals and the cardamoms."

Humming once at the "Yes, my Lord" that came from the immortal centaur, Apollo paused for a moment at the door, taking in the sight of his daughter crying as she knelt by the bed, her hand clutching at the lifeless one of his younger brother desperately. Aldrick stood at her side, his hand on her shoulder, and Apollo could see the way his son was trying to bite back his own frustration and sadness, his shoulders tense and his fist clenched. He cursed himself mentally for putting them through such a thing, making them experience crushing guilt and grief even though he had known this to be the outcome from the very start.

All so that his children would have to pray to him.

Because Chaos forbid they interfere with the mortals like only the King of Gods could do.

"Sleep my child," Apollo whispered as he neared Aldrick, sending the teenager into slumber instantly as he floated him out into the living room. Abigail jumped at the sudden noise, and just as she started to turn around, he laid a hand on her shoulder, stilling her for a moment as he looked at the even more worsened state of Harry's body, "Your prayers will be answered Abigail, Harry Potter shall live."

He sent her to sleep too, cradling her head on his shoulder as he stood up, holding her in his arms. "Now let's get this over with," Apollo sighed, placing his hand on Harry's chest and staring at black veins branching out all over his body, his blood completely poisoned beyond curing, and his organs shutting down rapidly as they rotted from the inside. It was a hopeless case, and there was nothing in this world that could save Harry and bring him back from the cold fingers of Thanatos that Apollo could feel closing in on the boy…

But then again, it was the work of Gods to give hope in hopeless situations, wasn't it?

A golden white glow began to emanate from his palm, and the light seemed to flow over the almost dead demigod, covering and soaking through the bandages that he was wrapped in. He hummed a melody of his own creation, feeling the poison and the rot inside Harry's body wither away in the face of his power as he felt each and every cell come alive once again. On the surface, the bandages burned away from the demigod's skin, and Apollo watched silently as the burnt and blistered flesh beneath started regenerating—white lights dancing along the wounds and soaking the room in a comfortable warmth as if it were from a winter Sun.

Harry's face too, began to heal rapidly as Apollo focused on the destroyed eyes, burning away the poison that had damaged his remaining eye, while white light shone out from the hole beside it as he regrew the other one. His features once more returned to their unblemished state as the acid and lightning burns faded away to reveal the pale skin beneath, his hair growing back along with his right ear and teeth. Apollo grunted as he felt the last vestiges of the centipedes' venom vanish from Harry's veins, his blood once again beginning to flow as he healed his almost destroyed heart.

"Well then, my work here is done," Apollo smiled, removing his hand from Harry's chest as he felt the boy take a slow, shuddering breath, his heartbeat growing stronger by the minute as every injury and scar on his body was erased by his power. The God of the Sun grinned down at the demigod, placing his sleeping daughter atop Harry as the demigod blearily opened his eyes, conjuring a set of pajamas over the boy as he did so, "Enjoy the rant that is coming, little brother. And remember, don't hunt deer when you are in forests."

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form, or I wouldn't be going through f our years of college for ten hours a day.

AN-1: I have a Linktree, where you can read the NEXT FOUR CHAPTERS right now, along with four to six chapters of all my other fics. Just follow the link on my profile.

"How has he been?" Hestia asked as she felt Chiron come to a stop beside her, her eye focused on the figure of her nephew—and the boy she had come to view as her son—sitting upon the top of the rocky cliffs in the forest, wind and lightning whipping around him in a small tornado, "He hasn't come to visit me even once in the last week."

"Silent," the Caretaker of the demigods replied, sighing heavily as he looked up at the Goddess of Hearth from his wheelchair. "And completely different from the time he was unconscious after the Hydra bit him. He has barely said a word to anyone and just keeps on training his powers in solitude. He has decided to depart for Britain this evening without delay, and even Abigail has been unable to get to him."

"I should have come here sooner," Hestia grimaced, closing her eyes before she looked at the demigod she thought of as her child, "But I had to be there for the Inter-Pantheon meet, and Zeus had given me the task of keeping Dionysus in check lest he speaks too much in front of the Norse and the Hindu Pantheons."

"Where was the meet held this time?" Chiron asked, surprised at the news. The Inter-Pantheon meet was a big thing, and the last time it had happened…well, Dionysus had decided to rampage through the world in search of women and wine and glory, without a care for the boundaries agreed upon by the different powers. "I hope that things went smoothly this time…I remember how furious they both were last time."

"Understandable," she sighed, her own mind flashing back to the cataclysmic, world-ending war that had broken out due to her nephew's and Zeus' foolishness all those centuries ago, "But right now, it was due to them wanting to warn us about the rising energies and activities in the Pit that they were able to feel, due to the shared dimensional boundaries. A chimera had spawned in some Indian Village a few days ago, and luckily, their wards were enough to smite it out of existence before it could do anything…but the matter is troubling. Around the same time, a couple of Dracanaes appeared in Norway and Ireland, and that made the Norse call for the meet alongside the Hindus."

Hestia paused for a moment, and Chiron looked up at her as a worried frown made its way on her features, "But that is now concluded…and I am going with Harry to Britain. I already have permission from Lord Dagda, and the Celtics have granted me leave to stay in their domain till September 1. Get the spirits to pack all the stuff Harry will be taking or needing there…we will be departing shortly."

"How's the egg?"

"Aunt Hestia," Harry blinked, coming out of his trance, feeling the electricity running over his body and the wind blowing around him disappear as he stopped exerting his energy, turning his focus towards the Goddess that appeared by his side. She looked as beautiful as ever, her brown hair cascading down gently in waves as her amber eyes glowed with the warmth that was just so…pure and Hestia. He instantly jumped to his feet as he saw the smile full of love she gave him, every fiber of his being seeming to come alive with a smile as he hugged the first and the only person he considered his mother, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, my child," she replied, her hand coming to rest on his head as he snuggled into her familiar, inviting warmth. She sighed with happiness as his arms wrapped around her, feeling the love Harry held for her, her eyes growing a little moist as she realized that she had almost lost this. Lost him. Blinking away the water in her eyes, she closed them and just enjoyed the moment of peace and love between them, running her fingers through his unruly hair as she laid her head on the top of his head, checking over his body with her senses once again to make sure he was hundred percent fine, "You didn't come to my Hearth even once after you woke up…I was beginning to feel you had forgotten your dear old aunt."

"Shut up," he mumbled with a laugh, pulling back to look up at her, and Hestia marveled at how tall he had become compared to the first time he had hugged her, "I am going to Britain today. There are only two weeks left before school starts, and I want to learn a little about the courses, as well as the world I am walking into."

"A smart decision," she nodded approvingly, tapping his cheek before she nodded in the direction of the camp, "Now, shall we get to packing your luggage? You also have to say goodbye to Apollo's daughter, Abigail, right?"

"Uh yeahhhh," Harry trailed off uncomfortably as he met her eyes with a wince, rubbing the back of his head, "Could you be like…be there when I tell her this? I don't think it will go over well with Abigail…please?"

"Is Darth Potter scared of his girlfriend?" Hestia teased, laughing at the disgruntled look that appeared on the young demigod's face, his infamous nickname still a thing of whispers and gossip amidst the campers—Especially with Athena and Apollo's campers weaving a story around the Son of Zeus' accomplishments every night at the bonfire. Giggling at the put-out look on his face, Hestia internally frowned at how he had briefly tensed in her grip. Deciding to talk to him about it later, once they were away from the ears of the spirits and dryads that roamed the camp, she continued, "Now, you didn't answer my original question, dear nephew, how is the egg you brought back from the cliffs?"

Harry sobered up instantly at the question, all the mirth and warmth gone from his face as he turned his head to the side. His arms dropped from around her waist, and Hestia frowned visibly as she felt the tumultuous storm of emotions begin to rage inside his heart. Doubt and shame were the most prevalent, along with a healthy dose of confusion and anger. She hadn't meant to peek in on the little child's mind…but the sheer intensity of the emotions, along with how active her own domains were when it came to her pseudo-son, had made her see all that automatically.

And now that she knew it, Hestia could also hazard a guess as to why Harry was feeling so. This was the third time he had fallen unconscious due to a monster, the third time someone had to carry him to safety…the third time he had been lucky. Demigods weren't lucky…they weren't supposed to be alive after so many brushes with Thanatos' fingers. But yet, each time Harry had come close to dying, something or the other brought him to safety. First, it had been her brother; the second time, it had been the campers themselves…and now it had been her.

She knew Harry better than he knew himself. And after years of knowing and loving him, Hestia knew what his heart and mind were made of and, most importantly, what his flaws were. And right now, he was suffering just because he couldn't accept his own weakness, his own inability to live up to the standards he had set for himself or the ones he thought Zeus expected from him. But she also knew that he wasn't going to talk about them, and neither was he going to like being talked to…at least not now.

So the only thing she could do now was distract him, and the best way to do so now was to get to the World of Wizards.

To Harry's new life.

21 August 1989

"Well, back here again."

These were the first words Harry spoke as he stepped down from the airplane, feeling the chilly winds whip across his face. The weather here was a complete one-eighty from the States, the cold of the fall permeating the whole sky, a far cry from the summer sun he had been in just a few hours ago. However, the temperature didn't really affect him that much beyond an initial chill, and he just willed his magic to warm his body a little, remembering the days when he used to do so in this very city's dark belly.

It had been three years since he had last been in London, and that Satyr's initial words still echoed in his ears as he remembered that night. Moving down the airstair, he sighed and looked up at the sky, feeling his power and his control over the heavens above reduce more and more with each passing moment. A part of the Inter-Pantheon laws, Chiron had explained to him when the Hogwarts letter had arrived, stated that the powers and domain control of the demigods were weakened greatly when they went out of the limits of their pantheon's territory.

With the United Kingdom and Ireland, along with some surrounding areas coming under the purview of the Celtic Pantheon, the dominion over the sky and its aspects was held by Taranis. Similarly, he could feel his geokinesis and hydrokinesis also weaken greatly, the Celtic Pantheon's gods' influence over the world here dampening Poseidon's authority over the earth and water.

"Don't fret, my dear," Hestia's calm voice washed over him, and Harry sighed as he felt her hand come to rest on his shoulder, her aura washing over him more strongly. Honestly, it had been only her presence that had stopped him from freaking out the moment they had crossed over the Atlantic, and he had begun to feel the effects of leaving the Greek territory, "You will get used to the sensation quickly, and while you are here…avoid using your powers and the mist entirely. The Celtics have agreed to host you here only because your mother was one of their subjects, and you are a magical born in their lands—but they have made it clear that should you exhibit any needless tendency to harm their subjects or do anything suspicious…actions will be taken based on your activities."

"Summarized quite well, Lady Hestia," a regal, powerful voice spoke up from behind them, the British accent reminding Harry of the days when he used to watch James Bond and other movies from the windows on the streets. He turned around, his hand twitching for a moment as he barely fought the urge to summon his Xiphos, and his eyes landed on an old aged man, his bushy but well-maintained beard and stormy grey eyes looking down on them from the top of the cockpit. He was a little slouched, his hands behind his back as the black and blue robes he was clad in swayed in the gentle breeze, his frame thin and his face wrinkled with age, "Be welcomed in the land of Celts, Hestia, Daughter of Rhea, and Harry, Son of Lily. King Dagda sends his greetings, and he has tasked me with assisting you for a couple of days as well as getting you acquainted with the magical world and its basic knowledge."

"Thank you for your welcome, Lord Taranis," Hestia lowered her head in respect to the older god, feeling his power thrumming across the whole sky as he looked at them both. While his appearance may suggest otherwise, the Goddess of Hearth knew that Taranis was a literal monster. Amongst the most ruthless gods of the Celtic Pantheon, he was amongst their strongest too, and for him to come here personally…she knew the Celts weren't taking any chances with Harry.

Understandable, considering what happened the last time.

"So this is the latest spawn of your King," he commented after a moment, his eyes moving to the demigod beside her and taking in the child before him, "Hmm…I think I remember you, boy. Did you happen to be living on the streets of London a few years ago?"

"Yes…Lord Taranis," he answered, bowing at his waist to show his respect and deference to the Elder god, remembering the lessons that Hestia and Chiron both had given to him, "I lived here in London for two years before I was taken to the States."

"Hmm," the god hummed, and Hestia waited for him to elaborate upon the matter more. Still, it seemed like the God of Thunder wasn't going to do so, as with a swirl of his robes, Taranis disappeared from his spot before appearing right in front of them, "Since it's late right now, I think it would be best if you made your way to one of the lodgings in the magical district. Also, a fair warning to you, Son of Lily, while you use the veil, or the 'mist' as you call it, freely in your land…here, even the slightest use of it can cause a lot of problems, young demigod. So take heed of the warning Lady Hestia has given you, and don't commit mistakes that would lead to unpleasant… repercussions."

"Yes, Milord," he murmured back, feeling the authority in the power that echoed around him, and even the cloak of Hestia's warmth was unable to shield his senses from the utterly wrathful aura that the ancient-looking god gave off for a moment, dark clouds seeming to gather in his eyes, while the smell of ozone permeated the air around them as a golden spear appeared in his hands. His eyes glowed golden, and his whole body changed into a muscular one as he straightened up. Thunder cracked across the sky above them, and Harry shivered as he unconsciously took a step back, feeling the power of the entity before him.

An eyeblink later, it was all gone, and back was the old, unassuming man Taranis had been a moment ago. Hestia frowned mentally, but she could do nothing to support her child—a condition of the Celtics had been to introduce themselves to the newest son of the Big Three in any harmless way they saw fit, and unfortunately, that vow prevented her from interfering now.

His show of power done, Taranis turned around and began walking away from the private jet, his gait slow and weak as he waved a hand over his shoulder. "Come one now, don't tarry and take up more of my time than what I want to give you brat. The sooner we are done with this, the better we both are going to feel."

Hestia shook her head slightly in disapproval at the Celtic god, and a part of her couldn't help but wonder whether being an egotistical abrasive being was a part of taking the mantle of a Skyfather. Because her meetings with Taranis, Susano'o, Indra and even Thor had certainly led her to believe that—and of course, how could she forget her own brother's name in that list? She also noticed how Tanaris had only referred to Harry as the son of Lily, disregarding his connection to godly heritage. Putting those thoughts behind her, she laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and began to steer him alongside her, following Taranis as they moved away from the runway.

"We are about to reach our destination," Taranis said suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts as the old god turned left, his hands still behind his back as he looked back at them, "Before we enter the Wizarding World, you should know a few things, Son of Lily. Listen closely, and listen well child, for even we gods don't tread lightly into the realm of the sorcerers, such is the danger and power your kind possesses. And some time ago, one man sought to reach even new pinnacles of strength, and wage war on all humanity in a bid to establish his rule and name."

"Lord Voldemort was his chosen name," he continued, his voice taking a sombre, serious edge that it hadn't possessed before as he looked up at the sky, and a gust of cold wind flew through the area, reflecting the god's emotions. "He was charismatic, charming and cunning, with a hunger for knowledge seldom seen in this world. But most of all, he was powerful. Over the years, his power only grew, until he decided to be the only powerful one in this world. He waged war on Wizarding Britain, convincing hundreds of wizards and witches to follow him for one reason or the other. People fell before his might like flies, and with each victory, he won more power, more fear…but one man stood in his way, thwarting his conquest at every possible turn."

"Albus Dumbledore," Harry murmured, remembering the words Chiron had spoken about the man, "I guess he killed off this Lord Voldemort, if he is still alive and teaching at Hogwarts."

"No he didn't," Taranis shook his head, disapproval in his voice as he continued with the tale, "He fought him to a standstill each and every time, forcing him into retreat every time but even then, Voldemort was winning just by the attrition being in his favor. Power is everything in this reality, Son of Lily, and it is more so in the world of Wizards. When the populace saw that this Dark Lord was able to summonraise the dead with a flick of his wand, change the whole landscape with a blast of his magic…and fight the strongest wizard in the world to a stop each and every time…they were soon unwilling to even come out of their homes."

"But he must have been defeated," Harry tilted his head, imagining a dark-cloaked, powerful wizard wielding unimaginable power, and making others cower just with his presence alone. Harry wasn't sure if Voldemort was really like it, but he focused back on the god of thunder as he continued. "Otherwise I doubt that Albus Dumbledore would still be alive."

"Aye, he was defeated, 'tis true," came the response, and a flash of lightning lit the sky above them, illuminating the heavy clouds and the water glistening on the asphalt. "A prophecy was given after your birth, and in accordance with that, Voldemort was defeated by a boy. However, on the same night, a couple of followers of Voldemort invaded your home, and killed your parents. You were whisked away by the magic of your mother as she took her final breath, thus saving you from certain death."

"My mother was killed?!" He whispered, shocked beyond belief at that piece of information. The Dursleys had always told him that his mother and adoptive father had died in an accident, and Chiron had never possessed any information on his origins to say otherwise.

But to hear that they were murdered?!

And his mom saved him with the last bit of her strength instead of running away herself.

"Now, don't say your name to anyone, Son of Lily," Taranis' voice cut through his shocked, confused thoughts as they neared a barely lit alley, a board hanging over one of the doors at the edge and the sound of dripping water coming from every little spot around. "I don't want wizards and witches crowding us every step of the way just because you decided to be polite to some old, wart-nosed skeleton."

"You sure are a cheery guy to be around huh?" Harry muttered to himself, reading the barely visible letters on the weathered, half-rotten wood swaying above their heads. "The Leaky Cauldron?...that isn't very subtle, is it?"

"Not everyone is aware of things that don't adhere to the laws of men Harry," Hestia said softly, tilting her head as she looked at the board, her mind flashing back to the last time she had been here a couple of centuries ago."For the Muggleborns and their parents, it is a simple enough sign, and I believe there is a story that goes behind the name of this establishment."

"Aye, that is true," their guide of the evening responded, walking over to the door and opening it with a push of his fingers, looking back at them with his grey eyes twinkling in amusement. "And quite a tale it is, but first, let's get you both introduced to Wizarding Britain, shall we?"

He pushed the door open and walked into the room beyond, his spear flashing into his hand before it shrunk down into a thin, golden wand. A barrage of sounds assaulted his ears, people laughing and cheering for something as if their very lives depended on it. He took a step inside what was clearly a bar, the dingy atmosphere and the barely glowing dirty yellow lights shining throughout the hall. A mug of alcohol was slammed into his hands, and Harry barely gripped it as a drunk man almost fell over him.

He looked at Hestia, bemused out of his mind as he struggled to comprehend what the fuck was happening here.

"Welcome back to the Wizarding world, brat." Taranis smiled sharply as he turned around, a mug raised in his right hand as his eyes shone for a moment, "Fàilte gu Saoghal nan Draoidh, a Mhic Lily"

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or PJO.

AN-1: To read the NEXT FIVE CHAPTERS early and right now, you can visit my Linktree.

AN-2: Hogwarts starts, not much to say.

"Keys for the vault of Harry Potter, Son of James Potter and Lily Potter," Taranis growled as they walked up to a teller—a goblin, Harry remembered, looking around at the short, old ones counting coins and jewels on various counters, while burly, and a little larger ones stood around with halberds and axes as guards. His fingers twitched as one seemed to glare at him and Hestia from the cover of his helmet, and Harry barely resisted the urge to see whether these monsters bled as golden as the one back home.

"And you are decidedly not Harry Potter, wizard," the goblin sitting on the counter spat back, and for a moment, Harry couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer hate and disgust the little creature had managed to fit in that one term. Evidently, racism went both ways in the wizarding world, and given the lack of scandalized or appreciative looks on anyone's faces…it was quite accepted too. Sneering at Tamaris and Hestia both, it flicked its wrist in the direction of the doors and continued. "That concludes your business in Gringotts, and don't ever think of stealing someone's vault ever again. Now move before I see whether the dragons below like your flesh or not!"

"Fine," Taranis growled, clearly angry about the tone the goblin had taken with the god, but unable to do anything about it. Turning around, he glared at Harry and thumbed at the creature at his back, "Get this done with brat. I'd rather not breathe the same air as them any longer than I have to."

"I am Harry Potter," he sighed and introduced himself, taking a step forward before the goblin could spew some more insults at them, making the creature pause as it looked down at him, "I would like to get my vault key…please."

"Harry Potter," the teller remarked, its eyes squinting at the demigod as the goblin leaned forward, "It will require proof of identity. Get it at the Identification counter, and then we will see about the key you need. It is the second counter from the left."

"I had forgotten how miserable these pests are," Taranis snarled as they moved toward the mentioned counter, glaring at every goblin in the hall. Not caring in the slightest about lowering his voice, he continued. "Bloody fuckers lost their pesky little rebellions against wizards, and are now considered barely more than animals in Europe. If it hadn't been for Dagda's strict instruction and Gwydion's leniency, I would have turned this bank into a smoldering pile of death and rubble!."

"Why did the wizards leave them alive if they had won?" Harry asked, looking around at the goblins who were either counting money, or glaring at the wizards and witches walking in the hall, "I doubt it was because they didn't have the means to manage money."

"The same reason why your father let Prometheus live," Taranis chuckled, looking down at the son of Zeus, "Eternal chains of suffering are a much greater punishment than the release of Death. Now, get your business concluded quickly, and let us move away from these filthy animals."

"Yes milord," he nodded, sighing internally at the rather…volatile nature of his father's counterpart, before he looked up at the counter they had arrived at. "I need to get an identification done."

"Place your hand on the parchment in front of you, if you have a vault here, it will show up," the ancient-looking goblin droned out, peering at an emerald in his hands as a parchment materialized before him, stuck on the surface of the counter, "If your vault shows up, get to the Key counter for information on your key."

Nodding wordlessly, Harry placed his hand on the parchment…and unlike his expectations, there was no flash of light, or something sharp to prick his skin and take his blood. Instead, all he felt was a weird sensation like ants were running down his palm, before ink began to appear on the parchment. Pulling back his palm, he watched with fascination as his name appeared first—and evidently, his full name was Harry James Potter. It was followed by his birth date before the names of his parents appeared.

"So my adopted father's name was James," he muttered softly, his eyes tracing over the letter right above the name of his mother, noting the same dates of death they shared, "Harry James Potter…that is my name…and evidently, I am the inheritor of four vaults."

"A trust vault, their vaults, and a family vault," he explained at the querying glance Hestia gave him, showing her the names of the vaults right next to their numbers. "Let's get their keys and take a look at them before we leave. I don't think he can endure much more of their glances before he snaps and breaks the laws."

"Who do you take me for, your father?" the god in question scoffed, a smile as sharp as the edge of his sword on his wizened face, "It may be a norm for the Greeks to break the oaths they swear, but the rest of us gods aren't as frivolous as your lot boy. Now go and conduct your business quickly, I shall be waiting outside the doors."

Taranis walked away with that, his hands crossed behind his back and his eyes spitting fire at every goblin in his sight. Sighing once again at the god's antics, Harry smiled as Hestia ruffled his hair and sent a pulse of warmth and calmness through him. "Come now Harry," she spoke, her voice softer and more welcoming than any could ever hope to be as she steered him towards the counter that had the symbol of a rusty key upon its front, "We shouldn't waste Lord Taranis' time any more than we have to. It is imperative that these two days go as smoothly as they can, so that your own stay in Celtic dominion is peaceful."

"Yes mom," he rolled his eyes, walking towards the goblin, unknowing of the way Hestia froze behind him. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed a little as Harry's voice resonated in her very being. Love and protectiveness burned through her soul as she stared at the boy who had given her the greatest gift of her life with just a simple word, the boy she considered her own in all but name and blood. Her eyes moistened a little, and she wiped them clean as her child turned around to raise an eyebrow at her, "What happened? Did something get in your eyes?"

"Nothing, my dear," she shook her head and joined him, laying a hand on his cheek, "It was nothing."

"If you say so," he nodded, tilting his head as if examining her before he turned around and knocked on the counter, pushing the parchment from the Identification under the goblin's eyes. "Keys for these vaults please."

"Harry Potter," the goblin rasped, his bony fingers grasping the parchment before he leaned over to peer down at the demigod, squinting past his thin spectacles, "The keys for the vaults 686, 345 and 2035, belonging to you, James Potter and Lily Potter were last known to be at your residence, in Godric's Hollow. The Potter Family Vault doesn't require a key, so your business here is concluded. If you wish to get new keys commissioned for vaults, proceed behind me through the door. If you wish to further know the state of the accounts, proceed to the Accounts counter."

"Very well," he sighed, taking the parchment back and walking over to the aforementioned door, groaning as he saw the guards glower at him and Hestia. "Hades, this is taking too fucking long."

"I refuse to wear a hat," he deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the owner of the store they had walked into. Madam Malkins in turn, looked over at her aide for help, but the young woman simply shrugged uncomfortably, not really sure how to handle the matter.

"Mr. Potter, it is a part of your uniform, and every student at Hogwarts is expected to wear it," she tried again, waving her wand to summon a bunch of framed photos, depicting dozens of students in various uniforms, each one wearing a hat, "Your own parents had worn them when they were first years, and you will get scolded on your very first night if y-"

"Madam Malkins," he interrupted, pointing at a boy standing in one of the photographs, "He isn't wearing it, so there goes your point about everyone. As for the scolding, it is I who is going to hear that, not you, so please. Pack the rest of the things, and strike out the hat from the billing."

"You want to copy Albus Dumbledore," she raised an eyebrow, finding the boy he had been pointing at, before she chuckled a little. "Fine by me Mr. Potter. I will let you explain that logic to Minerva once you are off the train. Now, you have chosen the standard uniform, but if you spend a few galleons more, it can be an enchanted cotton one. Add a few more galleons, and you can get the one with automatic cleaning and renewing charms upon it."

"Just give me the standard one for now," he said. Taking the pouch from his waist, he thought about the number of galleons and sickles he wanted to pay for the Uniform, feeling the required number of coins appear on his palm directly from his trust vault—a thing which had cost him hundred fucking gold coins. He put them on the table as Malkin packaged their purchases in a bag and handed it to him. Giving her a smile as he waved at him, he turned around and walked out of the store.

Hestia had decided to get his books and the trunk for him, while Taranis had decided to supervise him, standing outside the stores as he completed his purchases. By now, he had gotten his uniform, and the potions kit along with the cauldron. Now the only thing left was his wand, supposed to be acquired from Ollivander—and the store had been open for almost 24 fucking centuries!

Walking towards the old store, he smiled as Hestia waved at him from outside the door, a dark, polished trunk in her right hand. "Did you get everything?" She asked as soon he got within the reach of her hand, her fingers ruffling his hair affectionately as he leaned into touch, "Your books and stationery are inside this trunk, and so are your other clothes. The trunk can be shrunk with a touch of the runes on it, and you can also store some food in it for a few weeks at least."

"Magic is awesome," he grinned as he saw Hestia demonstrate the shrinking enchantment in question, her finger touching a series of curved carvings before the trunk turned into a matchbox-sized box. "Now, let's buy my wand and be done with this shopping. I am feeling hungry enough to eat through the whole KFC right now!"

With that, he walked into the store, wincing at the whine the hinges made as he pushed the dust-laden door open. Hestia and Taranis walked in behind him, and Harry watched the motes of dust fly by his face, his eyes flicking over the hundreds of boxes arrayed upon the dozens of shelves before them. "There must be millions of wands in those boxes," he whispered, awed beyond measure at the sheer skill, time and patience it would take to craft so many, "But where is Ollivander? I can't hear him anywhere."

"Not everything in this world can be sensed physically, Mr. Potter," an ancient, whispery voice rasped out from the depths of the dusty store, and Harry blinked as an old, almost stooping man walked out from amidst the aisles, "Good day to you, Lady Hestia, Lord Taranis. Though, I wonder what brings two gods to my humble establishment."

"It's been a while, Garrick," Taranis grunted, grabbing a rickety chair before he sat down on it, making it creak dangerously beneath him, "This brat here needs a wand, and he is the charge of Lady Hestia. I am here as the guide for them until Cerridwen rises tomorrow."

"I had heard of your family when we still lived in these lands," Hestia commented, a look of wonder on her face as she walked by him and Ollivander both to look at the boxes on the shelves, "I think it was Hecate who mentioned your ancestors, having taught a few of them the art of creating and finding focuses."

"That is true Lady Hestia," the old wandmaker nodded, his eyes brightening as he waved his hand, and all the dust in the shop was swept away by a gust of wind, leaving behind only clean and pristine surfaces. "Forgive me for the less than stellar state of the shop Milord, Milady. Shall I get you some refreshments while I match young Harry with his wand?"

"Not this time, Master Ollivander," Hestia shook her head, while Taranis just grunted in agreement, as she too took a seat besides the Celtic deity, "I have always been curious regarding the way you match the focus with the magic of a wizard, and I wish to see you play your craft. Besides, Harry is most eager to get his own wand and begin his journey as a wizard."

"Right, right," the wandmaker muttered, nodding to himself as he turned towards the visibly shocked demigod. He hummed for a moment, his glassy blue eyes sparkling with new vigor as the man seemed to lean close to him, and he murmured "Harry Potter…I remember your parents. James Potter and Lily Evans had both been chosen by wands suited for transfiguration and charms respectively. I wonder what magic shall choose you to be its wielder? Here, try this," Ollivander's voice suddenly gained strength as he opened his palm, and a box shot into it from one of the shelves, "Mahogany and dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches. Good for transfiguration and defensive magic."

"Oh dear," Taranis muttered as he leaned back, "This one has never gotten a demigod now that I think about it."

Before Hestia could ask what the god beside her meant by it, a spark of light leaped from Harry's outstretched fingers to the wand….right before it detonated in a blast of pure energy and lightning.

Hestia watched with wide eyes as the light cleared from their eyes, revealing a translucent shield covering both Ollivander and Harry, both of them unharmed from the blast that happened literally on their face. "Ah well, that was a blast," Ollivander commented with a hearty laugh as he lowered his hand, and the bluish shield faded away into nothingness, while all Harry could do was gape at the clearly mad wandmaker. The wizard hummed a little as he leaned closer to the demigod, his eyes seeming to peer through his very soul as Ollivander's fingers reached out towards his face, stopping just shy of touching his forehead, "My my…why didn't you tell me you are a demigod?! Divinity courses through your veins, and your magic isn't normal by any means! No wonder a normal wand couldn't handle the power! No no no, we are going to d-"

Olliavander's voice descended into murmurs as he turned around and walked deeper into his shop, disappearing amidst the aisles. Bemused and more than a little weirded out, Harry turned around to look at Hestia and Taranis, both of whom seemed to enjoy his plight if their smiles were any indication. "Just what did he mean by my magic being different?" He asked, tilting his head in the direction of the eccentric older wizard, "Am I gonna be different than the others at Hogwarts?"

"Your magic isn't different in its usage, except perhaps it comes more freely to you than others," the god of thunder answered, waving a hand at the wizards and witches visible outside the shop, "What is different between you and the others is the way it…flows through your body. Others don't have a literal god powering their energy, and while being a demigod doesn't make you magically stronger than what you would have been normally…it does make your magic more…raw or potent. Difficult to control, and you would need more practice and focus to do the fineries of various magical arts. Spells that don't require control, on the other hand, will be easier—since your godly heritage makes your energy more…wilder compared to the average sorcerer."

"Quite an apt description, Lord Taranis," Ollivander lowered his head in respect as he walked into view, several boxes held in his arms. He lowered them reverently on a table that suddenly floated down from the ceiling, and Harry's eye twitched as the wizard seemed to smirk at him. Opening the first box of the many, Ollivander brought out a wand as black as night sky, slowly raising it to his eye level as he looked at Harry, "Your magic is volatile and calm at the same time, a coloring from your divine parent. Thus, you need a wand that can match your temperament, one able to be a gentle river bed in your calmness, and be the swirling tempest of storms the next moment in your rage. That rules out the dragon's heartstrings, as well as the unicorn hair. The wood of your wand also needs to be as fluid as the sea or the sky, which makes mahogany, birch, and rowan unfit for you. Try this one will you? Phoenix feather in Oak, twelve inches."

However, just like the last time, this wand too broke apart under his magic, and once again, Ollivander shielded them as with a fading, melodious cry of a phoenix, the wand burned away into nothingness. "Oh my," he muttered, staring at the spot where he had held out the wand, "Even the phoenixes reject your magic from bonding to them…I am going by a hunch here, but have you killed any avian creature? Something like a phoenix or an eagle?"

Understanding lit up in his head, and Harry cursed mentally as he asked, "Does a thunderbird count? I didn't deal the final blow, but I certainly attacked it and played a part in its death."

"Ah yes," the wandmaker breathed, closing his eyes as he flicked his hand, and almost half the boxes vanished from the table, "That would do it. Thunderbirds and Phoenixes share a close relation, even though both have vastly different origins I am afraid that...you have been cursed, they won't let you wield any phoenix feather wand, not unless the phoenix personally lifts the curse from you. But no matter," Ollivander's somber voice turned energetic as he clapped his hands once, "It is clear that even the legendary creatures are not going to be a perfect fit for you, owing to the divinity flowing through you. No…what you need, is a wand crafted with your essence already in it. Tell me, Harry, do you have any remains of the powerful monsters you might have killed? Especially that thunderbird that died…a feather or a heartstring of it will surely be compatible with you."

"I do have the fangs of the Hydra that I killed," he nodded slowly, a part of him still unable to come to terms with the fact that apparently, he was now cursed by birds—and what the fuck was gonna happen with that thunderbird egg he had taken?! Deciding to think about it more later and find information in the wizarding world, he turned towards Hestia, "And I guess that we can still find that thunderbird on that cliff?"

In response, Hestia just hummed and raised her hand, and with a swirl of fire, two fangs about a foot in length appeared above her hand, floating in a barrier made of golden magic. A moment later, Taranis sighed and nodded at her, and Hestia raised her other palm, and in another burst of flames, a heart as big as his entire torso appeared over it. He blinked at the sight, his eyes catching the way it was pierced on one side, the flesh and fibers blackened and rotted by that centipede's poison. Above the heart, a single feather rested, its shade as beautiful as the evening sky full of stormy clouds, blue and gold mixing together to create a majestic sight, stained only by the blood that had dried upon it.

"Your spoils of war, dear Harry," she whispered, floating the various things over to Ollivander, where he took hold of them with his own magic. The ancient-looking man looked upon the parts of the powerful creatures with naked awe and excitement, before his eyes looked at them all with a shine that made him look decades younger.

"This is going to be glorious," he whispered reverently, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, before he looked at a surprised Harry. "You are going to have your wand Mr. Potter, one made of your own magic, of your own blood. One that shall serve you better than any wand you shall ever acquire, one that shall surpass any of my creations…this is my promise."

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO.

AN-1: Got the wand this chapter, and the sorting happens. If you guessed the House wrong in your thoughts, then congrats, -10 points. Also, do tell me if you can guess the methods discussed by Taranis below. BTW, a disclaimer once again on the fact that I will be explicit in this fic. With deaths, fights, words, romance…everything.

AN-2: I have a Linktree, where you can read the NEXT SIX CHAPTERS right now if you wish to . Just follow the link on my profile.

"Do the muggleborns here know about the Divine?"

"That is a good question," Taranis raised an eyebrow, before he looked out at the night sky from his spot at the window, "Muggle or non-magicals in the isles are almost entirely Christian, with the only other major faiths being Islam and Hinduism. There are groups and sects that still believe in us, but they are few and far between in comparison. For Christianity and Islam, a part of their faith says that magic is the power of their God and the Devil, so most of their sect rarely ever completes their magical education, if they even start one. In recent times, the number has grown exponentially, due to the lack of witch hunts, inquisitions, and general acceptance of the public regarding things. While the Muggle-borns here come to accept magic most of the time, they don't come to believe in our authority or even our existence."

"To most of them, we are just fictitious tales of the backward and archaic wizarding world," Taranis growled, and lightning flashed in the skies above as his power pressed down upon the area for a moment. "Or even if they come to accept that we existed once upon a time, then they lower us to the status of 'extremely powerful wizards' Ha! As if!"

"Don't the purebloods or the half-bloods tell them the truth?" Harry asked, looking down at the book he had bought, a detailed overview of the history and culture of Wizarding Britain since its founding. "It says here that they worship ancient deities like Morrigan, Hades and Hecate on specific days of the year, and even ask for the blessings of various gods in incantations and rituals."

"Bah!" The storm god scoffed, uncrossing his arms as he sneered, "Purebloods couldn't care less about the muggleborns if they tried. Most of them have given up on ever making the muggleborns leave the muggle world behind fully decades ago, and it has simply turned into a festering wound of bigotry and stupidity. And then some of them are simply cowards who would rather turn their back on their ancestors and traditions than make the muggleborns see sense. Half-bloods on the other hand, dangle between the two like balls hanging from a crotch! Swinging whichever way every tenth year. Some recognize the wizarding customs, yet some wish for the wizarding world to turn into a caricature of the muggle one."

"I hadn't known the situation here was so bad," Hestia murmured softly from her space on the couch, looking up from her own book on the Ministry of Magic. "When we roamed these lands last, the muggleborns hadn't been so…stubborn, and neither had the clans been so demeaning towards them."

"You were in Europe before the witch hunts, and before the Industrial Revolution," Taranis pointed out, "Both events soured the opinions from either side. A few purebloods think that muggleborns will once again try to end them all from the inside, while a few muggleborns think the wizarding world is too…archaic and stifled in traditions. The purebloods want to keep their world as it is, while a few muggleborns want to change things as they find them in the non-magical world…leading to a clash. Unfortunately, all muggleborns suffer due the pureblood bigotry and the stupidity of a few of theirs, as the purebloods simply use their prestige and influence to cut their avenues of success."

"That sounds…terrible," Harry hedged, before he remembered the word of Taranis from a few hours ago. "Wait, you said my mother was a muggleborn…how did she even get married to James Potter if there is so much bias here?"

"As I said, only a few purebloods carry enough bigotry to deny talent and power when they see it," the god replied, turning around to look him in the eye. "I don't know much about the ins and outs of their society, but muggleborns, who are talented and smart enough don't really suffer as much…as long as they don't antagonize the wrong people. Your mother was probably one such witch, or maybe it was just the plain old sappy romance story. Go and ask this shit to someone who knew them, not to someone who came to know of them only because you are a person of interest."

"Ah, Mr. Potter, " Ollivander said, rising up from his chair as Harry entered his shop, nodding at the young wizard as the demigod waved a hand in greeting. "Lord Taranis and Lady Hestia aren't accompanying.

"Lord Taranis said he wanted to eat some of the magical dishes here," he shrugged back and walked inwards, his eyes flicking in every direction as he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, "Hestia went along with him due to some inter-pantheon treaty or something."

"Matters between the pantheons have always been delicate and best handled with the most peaceful of diplomats," Ollivander nodded, walking deeper into his shop as he chuckled for a moment. "Imagine the sight of Lord Taranis discussing the issue of a Greek demigod with the King of Greek Gods!"

"That is probably best left to the imagination only," Harry replied, shuddering a little as he imagined the scene of his father and Celtic deity having a dick-measuring contest by throwing their power around. Deciding to focus on the other half of his life—at least for the next seven years—he looked towards the barely visible silhouette of the ancient wandmaker between the shelves, "Is my wand crafted?"

"Crafted it is, young Harry," the older wizard responded, his voice suddenly far more cheerful as he walked back into view, holding onto a sleek black box, his fingers holding it outwards towards Harry. "A wand of your own, crafted with your power and blood, with that of your slain enemies. A wand that shall grow in strength as you do, and is a perfect match for your unique blend of energies. My most magnificent and challenging creation yet, and quite possibly more splendid than the ones even my ancestors have crafted!"

The wizard slowly lowered the box before his eyes, before it began to float in the air as Ollivander removed his hands from it. The wandmaker removed the lid delicately, and a shudder ran up Harry's spine as he felt something stir within him, similar to the moments he had felt his powers react, yet different at the same time. "Behold," Ollivander whispered softly, his voice nothing more than the barest of sounds as the magical focus was revealed in its entirety. A gasp escaped his lips, and a thrum of power rose within him, his mind and magic instinctively seeking out the wand that was made for him, "The heartstrings of the Thunderbird, soaked in a Great Centipede's venom with the crown feather of the King of the Skies in its core, set inside the fang of the Lernaean Hydra. A wand with as much potential for destruction and elements as the Hydra, with the power and potency of its venom and the Thunderbird's lightning flowing through it. Suited for all forms of magic…all except for healing and rejuvenation."

As Ollivander's words echoed in his ears, Harry's fingers rose towards the wand resting on the velvet, the polished, off-white surface gleaming in the filtered afternoon light.

His whole body felt like ants were running on it, and sparks and trails of electricity jumped between his fingertips and the wand. In front of him, Ollivander gasped as he felt the bond form between his creation and the demigod, his senses far more attuned to the fine strands of energy that seemed to flow from the boy's outstretched fingers to the fruits of his own labor. His eyes widened as Harry finally picked the wand up, and thunder cracked in the sky above as a fierce wind blew through the shop. The wandmaker took a step back as he felt the budding waves of magic behind Harry's skin reach a crescendo, his eyes glowing a haunting shade of dark blue as he grasped his wand more fully.

A moment later, the wind died, the magic settled, and the wand and its master bonded forever.

"So, this is Neville Longbottom," Harry mused aloud as he watched the Boy-Who-Lived walk around with an auror guard detail around him, the four adults keeping back the public that cheered and worshipped the 8-year-old as he walked towards Gringotts, "Bit on the pudgy side for a hero."

"They don't need to run and jump around while swinging bits of divine metal," Taranis snorted as he sat down on a chair, picking up the menu and browsing through the ice creams, "the boy is powerful, that is all that matters in the grand scheme of things in this world."

"Isn't that true for everywhere?"

"Not if you have the brains to compensate for the lack of power," Taranis pointed out, and something in the god's voice made him turn around to look at the ancient being, his voice suddenly tinged with the wisdom that one might expect from an entity whole civilizations had worshipped once upon a time. "There are many tales throughout the world, where someone won the fight not because they had an overwhelming power advantage over the enemy, but because they had planned beforehand, and had the means of tipping the scales with means other than brute force. Tell me boy, Do you think your father and his brothers triumphed over the Crooked One with just their powers?"

"That is what they say at the Camp," he shrugged back, remembering the lessons on history taught by Chiron and the campers, as well as the general acceptance of the Greek Triumvirate's might even amongst the muggles, "I assume that is not the case?"

"Since you are pretty tolerable for a Greek kid, and certainly a far cry from the last demigod that lived here in our dominion, I will tell you a little secret," Taranis smirked, tapping a flavor on the card and telling the vendor his choice as he looked him in the eyes. "Your grandfather was a god of Time, one of the fundamental aspects of the Universe, and he was certainly amongst the most powerful divine beings seen in this world. By Dagda's beard, there was a reason he was called Titan. While a being of a different breed than the Primordials, he was amongst the first and the only ones to encroach on their strength levels. It is not an easy matter to defeat such a force, much less one that is in control of time. However, there are four known methods of killing a deity's physical form, and shattering their very essence, and your father and his brothers used one of them. They didn't have the sheer power, or even the counters for the powers of Time that their father possessed, but they utilized their minds and came up with a plan to weaken the Titan King, and make him weaker. This is the benefit of knowing your enemy before you fight them."

"What are the four methods of killing a god?" Harry asked, the words of the Storm god making his eyes blow wide. Throughout his years as a demigod, he had learned the tales of his Pantheon by heart. From the valor and life of his brother Perseus to the journey of Oddyseus, all of them full of monsters and bravery and interactions with the divine.

But none of them compared to the Titanomachy, or as the final days of it were known, The Triumph of the Three.

Zeus, Poseidon and Hades, the three strongest of the newest generation of divine beings had battled their father, the Titan King Kronos for three months. According to Chiron, even Helios and Selene had stopped their movements around Gaia to spectate the cataclysmic fight between the father and sons. Storms had ravaged the lands, fires from the pits of Hell itself had burned countless times against the armor of the Crooked One, as the Titan King simply used his scythe and his power to match the three single-handedly.

However, in a fit of inspiration, Hades had snuck up on Kronos mid-fight using his Helm, and snatched his scythe from his hands. Poseidon had them gored Kronos with his trident from the back, and Zeus had brought down a thunderbolt as big as a whole city upon his father. Stunned by the impact, the Titan of Time could do nothing but scream in pain as the next moment, his youngest son used his own scythe to cut him apart and scatter the pieces to the depths of the Pit.

However, the scythe was said to be locked in the highest security vault Hephaestus could construct, with a permanent guard of minor gods guarding it, as well as the Lord of Olympus's personal vigil on a weapon strong enough to destroy a fucking Primordial to a step away from fading. And thus, no one ever saw it in action again, and it had always been a topic of discussion between the campers that just what enabled it to be so destructive.

"None are meant to be shared with mortals," Taranis shot down the rising curiosity within Harry instantly, his voice warning him to not continue the line of questioning any further as the Storm God took his ice cream from the vendor, the Celtic's personal brand of magic cloaking their words easily from the civilians around them. "Though, you can discover them on your own if you wish. Now, I didn't tell you that tale so that you could grow some delusions of killing gods left and right. It was to tell you the benefit of using the thing between your ears, since from what I have heard from Lady Hestia, you have a habit of just bashing things with your power until they break."

"It works," he shrugged back, remembering each and every time he had blasted a monster to bits with lightning, or cut them apart underneath his sword like a scythe through grass. "Though, I still don't get why you would teach me a life lesson milord."

"Consider it…my good deed of the century, especially after your brother fucked up big time," the Celtic god chuckled quietly, taking a bite out of his ice cream as he sighed and looked at him, "Farewell Harry Potter, Son of Lily. May we never meet again, and may the Morrigan smile upon you."

With that, a drop of water fell upon his eye, and Harry flinched at it. As he opened his eyes properly again, the sky flashed once brilliantly, purple lightning streaking across the sudden clouds as a heavy downpour began to lash at the ground below. Standing there in the rain, Harry looked at the skies above, wondering what the in the name of Hades had Taranis meant, the Celtic god's chair empty and his ice cream spilling on the table before him.

"Harry Potter!" McGonagall's voice boomed in the hall, and Dumbledore's smile froze on his face as his eyes snapped towards the boy who walked out from the crowd of first years. When he had passed his eyes over the first years, he had disregarded every one of them as nothing but common children, none of them Heirs to any House, and none of them children or grandchildren of either his Order's members or the Death Eaters. But now, as the name of the boy long thought dead by him, and everyone else came forward at his name being called, Albus Dumbledore couldn't help but gasp for a moment.

While the whole Great Hall stilled as the name taken by his deputy echoed, Albus watched the child walk over to the stool upon which the Sorting Hat rested. His eyes took in the green eyes, so reminiscent of Lily Evans, set in a face that screamed out the aristocratic features of the Roman ancestry of the Potters. Messy hair, a touch darker than James' own black hair, sat atop his head, and as Harry stopped in front of the stool, Dumbledore leaned forward slowly, wanting to witness every moment of the sorting of James and Lily's lost child.

The boy looked down dubiously at the hat for a moment, and Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder just how a muggle-raised Harry was going to adjust to this world. But then again, Lily Evans had also been a muggleborn, and she had certainly been a powerful witch in her own right by the time she had grown up. And though he may have been childish and scoffed at the thought of studies, James too had been a powerful wizard, his talent in transfiguration enough to make even Dumbledore raise an eyebrow.

And now, their child was standing before him, just as they had been decades ago.

A glance to his right showed that even Filius and Severus were watching the boy with interest—and far too much more than normal in Severus' case, even though the Slytherin's face showed none of it. The rest of the staff wasn't faring much better either, he noted mentally, with Pomona's mouth still open in shock, and Hooch staring at the boy as if she had seen a ghost.

However, before he could think more about what Harry Potter and his reveal meant in the grand scheme of things, the boy picked up the hat and put it on his head. Barely an eyeblink later, the hat opened its mouth and a hush fell over the whispering students. "Harry Potter," the ancient, croaky voice of Gryffindor's animated hat echoed in the Great Hall as it hummed slowly.

"A chimera, torn apart by your powers from Poseidon," the Sorting hat's voice echoed in his head, and Harry growled, remembering that particular monster, and the deaths of Michael and Cynthia. The memories in front of his eyes moved forward as he felt the Hat shift slightly upon his head. The thing that he felt his memories focus on was the Hydra, its heads glaring out at the world with hatred and malice, breathing the elements onto the demigods and slaughtering them mercilessly. Until he arrived and chopped them off in a single strike, almost losing his innards in the process. "My my, the Hydra too? You sure are a powerful young demigod, aren't you Mr. Potter? But then, what else can one expect from the progeny of the Greek God-King."

"What house are you going to sort me in?" He thought back, barely suppressing the urge to growl at the hundreds that stared at him silently, once again the center of attention due to his parentage, "I'd rather not sit here for them to gawk at all night long."

"Patience shall serve you well, Mr. Potter," the Hat's old voice slowly whispered in his head, and Harry flushed a little at the admonishment, but still felt a spark of irritation as he heard the whispers grow in volume. However, it seemed the Hat didn't really care for his impatience, as it hummed again, shifting upon his head for a moment, "You thirst for recognition beyond that afforded to you by the virtue of being the Son of Zeus, and now, the lost son of House Potter and Lily Evans. However…Slytherin is not for you Mr. Potter. While your ambitions are certainly legendary, foolish as they may be…you are much more of a rampaging dragon than the coils and venom of a snake. You desire knowledge, but not for knowledge's sake itself, or even for being more knowledgeable than your peers…and Hufflepuff is clearly out of the bag, you are loyal to a fault to those you deem worthy, but those are few and far between. That leaves…GRYFFINDOR!"

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO

AN-1: Had my exams last month, so this update was a bit late. This chapter is a bit short, bit of a filler, a bit of plot.

AN-2: I have a Linktree, where you can READ THE NEXT SIX CHAPTERS RIGHT NOW!

"Mr. Potter, this is literally your first day in the Castle…just how did you manage to earn a visit to me? Minerva is usually a lot more lenient with the First Years."

"Because she said that she wasn't going to grey her hair more than it already has been," Harry answered, his tone confused as he remembered the way the Transfiguration professor had looked at him. Exasperated and yet reminded of something by his actions, like she had already had her fill of his actions…and yet, it was only his first morning here. "But in my defense, they totally had it coming."

"I highly doubt that your dorm-mates could do anything to demand a banisher to the walls," Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking down to the parchment Minerva had sent to him. Evidently, Fred and George Weasley, third eldest of Arthur's children—and reincarnations of the Prewitt twins by all accounts he had heard of them over the years—had tried something with the elusive Potter before him, only to get banished into the walls of the common room. Thankfully, the walls were already covered with cushioning and softening charms, and a couple of seniors had been quick enough to stop them from getting hurt. "You are quite lucky that they weren't hurt, or that Minerva hasn't decided to give you detention. It doesn't look good on your academic records, if you get detention on your very first morning you know."

"I understand Headmaster," the boy nodded before his eyes flicked toward the miniature hourglasses on the table. "Though I still don't understand why you gave me those ten points."

"A controlled banisher at your age is a fantastic achievement, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore answered, smiling as he pointed at the smattering of small rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass, "However, I would caution you against the usage of…any magic against your peers until those spells have been covered in class. Intent has a way of, pardon my language, mucking up even the most basic of spells terribly if gone wrong."

"Understood," the black-haired boy nodded, before he looked at the clock hanging behind him. "Can I go now, sir? It is time for my transfiguration class."

"You may," he nodded, before snapping his fingers to create a ball of light above their heads. "Follow it to reach the transfiguration classroom, after that, the prefects should be available to take you around the castle according to your timetable."

"Thank you, Professor," the boy nodded, standing up from the chair. He walked toward the doors as they opened up, revealing the spiraling staircase that led down from his office before he stopped at the threshold and looked back. There was a peculiar look about the boy's eyes, and for a moment, Dumbledore could have sworn that he had seen that look before—and not in Lily's eyes. However, before he could think anymore about it, Harry turned around and walked down the stairs, the doors swinging shut behind him silently.

The sound of crackling flame drew his attention away from the latest mystery in his life, and Dumbledore looked at the perch by his side as the flames faded away to reveal his most trusted and longtime companion. He rubbed the crest of crimson feathers upon the phoenix's head softly, chuckling as the magical bird trilled and pushed its head against his palm, the warmth from its body soothing the everpresent ache in his heart and mind. "You are not shy around first years Fawkes," he muttered, raising an eyebrow at his familiar as he tilted his head towards where Harry had just been. "Why did you leave when the lad came in? I could have used your help to put him at ease. Children are always so happy and intrigued by you."

In answer, Fawkes just shook its head and stared at the door, the air around its beautiful plumage heating up as embers danced upon its feathers for a moment—and for the first time in years, Dumbledore was left speechless as he felt a wave of anger and disappointment flow through the bond that existed between him and Fawkes. It had been decades since Fawkes had been even remotely angry, and even then, it had taken Gellert's actions to take a completely new level of darkness to do so. As his heart sped up, and he looked away from his familiar, Dumbledore felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple.

Just what had an eleven-year-old child done, to make a phoenix apprehensive and angry at him?

"Hey Harry!" a cheerful voice, and one familiar to him shouted by his ear, and the demigod sighed as he lowered his toast, looking to his right to find the ever-chipper Weasley twins. Of course, seeing the two 'pranksters' reminded him of their last meeting, and now that he was relatively…calmer, he could see that banishing them into the wall for dropping a water and feather-filled balloon upon him was…an extreme reaction.

"Hey, Fred, George," he greeted back, raising an eyebrow as he saw the bow one of them was carrying around, "What are you guys doing with that box?"

"We were thinking of completing our candies," the one holding the box answered, sitting down to his right and dropping the box noisily on the ground. The other one sat on his front and opened the lid, revealing the various jars and bowls within. "We want to create our own prank shop someday, like Zonko's…but better and bigger!"

"Before that, I wanted to say sorry for today morning, and to clear the confusion, I am Fred,"

'Fred' spoke up, offering his hand for a handshake, and Harry nodded as he shook it before the ginger looked towards the other one, "and this is George, my less handsome version of course."

"Keep dreaming your pimpled head oaf," George scoffed, before he gave a small wavering grin to him, "and sorry bout those feathers Harry…we shouldn't have thrown them at you the first thing in the morning, that too on your first day."

"It's ok, I shouldn't have banished you into the wall after that either," Harry shook his head, before extending a hand towards George. "Say, you forget about the wall and I forget about the balloons and feathers?"

"Sure," the orange-haired boy nodded easily, a bright smile on his face, before it was replaced by a thoughtful frown as he tilted his head slightly. "Your accent, it is weird. I haven't heard anything like it before."

"I lived in America for a while, about three or four years," Harry answered, his eyes flicking down toward where Fred had extracted a jar of purple…stuff from the box. Looking back at George, he shrugged and took a bite of his toast, "So…I have a weird accent because of that. Since I came back here, I have once again begun speaking like a Brit, but the American accent isn't gone yet."

"That sounds awesome!" George whispered, before his eyes brightened and he took out a small red pill from the box. "Oh, I know what you need. Fred and I were creating these pills that can make you speak any language. We only managed to get the accent ones right now, because enchanting whole languages is kind of difficult until we have learned some runes and stuff—but you can try this one, it is for British accent actually!"

"How does this work?" Harry asked curiously, taking the small pill from the ginger, pinching it carefully between his thumb and forefinger as he brought it closer to his eyes. He had never seen such things back in the camp. The closest thing he could think of was the nectar and ambrosia-infused pills meant to keep the demigods going in long, drawn-out battles, without giving the burning of divine overdose. He had even brought some with him to Hogwarts, carrying them with him in case he needed them for a sudden monster attack or something.

"Well, we first brewed a potion that is meant to make tourists capable of speaking any language," Fred began explaining as he took out a roll of parchment and a quill, scribbling down something upon it as he George began to open jars and boxes left and right, "and then we mixed it with sugar, and standard candy making ingredients to condense it down. To make it specifically attuned to the British accent, we had to make some changes to the potion first though, like making the number of wand movements lesser, and brew it for longer to make it more accurate. Bill and Charlie both helped a lot with that, to be honest, saved our faces from getting blown up a dozen times!"

"Bill and Charlie?" He asked, taking a bite of his toast as Fred and George both nodded, "I think I saw one of their names in the trophy room when that Ravenclaw Prefect took us for a tour this morning…Best Magizo-"

"That would be Charlie," Fred interrupted with a bright, cocky grin, pointing over in the direction of the forest—and Harry really needed to explore just what was so forbidden about it, it practically called out to his demigod side, begging him to explore its dark depths and find some adventure lurking within. However, his eyes moved back to the Weasleys as he continued. "He helps us whenever he comes back from Romania, and he even gave us some dragon dung this year. Had to hide it really deep in the woods though, mom doesn't like our pranks."

"She'd rather giggle and fuss all over Roniiekins and Ginny," George commented dryly, dropping a spoonful of some green powder in a small cup, and Harry backed away as a sprout of fire shot out from it…before the words registered with him.

"Wait!" He blinked, his eyes snapping towards George's, "You have more siblings?!"

"Yep!" Came the cheery answer, as George popped the 'p', and Fred continued. "We are seven siblings. Bill is out of Hogwarts and working on his Mastery, Charlie is still a student, but he was off to Romania due to Kettleburn's recommendation—though, he is supposed to come back this weekend, as this is his OWL year. Percy is next, and let me tell you, he has a big stick shoved up his arse. Honestly, I think all the good genes skipped him and came down to us, because he is such a bloody stickler for rules and books…ugh, no wonder he is going to die alone!"

"And then you have us, the best thing that ever happened to the Weasleys," George proclaimed, puffing out his chest as Fred took the cup from him. "We sometimes think that we got exchanged at birth, but then I see our hair and I realize that it is just our mom and Percy who are boring. After us, it is ickle Ronniekins, who is a piece of work, and bloody scared of spiders! Can you believe it, spiders of all things?!"

Well, he could…after sharing the camp with Athena's children, and seeing a couple of corpses left behind by those monstrous arachnids spawned by Arachne.

But the wizards didn't have giant man-eating spiders…right?

However, his thoughts on the monsters and horrors of his other life were forgotten in that moment as Fred began to tell him about their youngest sibling, the only girl to have been born to their parents. A girl who went by Ginny, and apparently, she had a huge crush on the Boy Who Lived. It was through this conversation, that Harry was introduced to the series made on the adventures and the daring lifestyle of the heroic Neville Longbottom. Hearing about how the series depicted him as an evil vanquishing, maiden-saving, monster-slaying Hero like some Greek legend, Harry shuddered quietly and finished his toast.

He was so fucking glad that no one was going to be making books about him.

As they filed out into the grounds for the first flying lesson, Harry looked at the skies above him. While the weather was completely clear and the sun was out, he really wasn't keen on flying for a couple of reasons. The first was that he didn't really know if Taranis would take umbrage to his presence in the Celtic sky. They sure weren't going to smite him out of existence if he stepped into the waters or walked in the forests, but flying in the sky, especially if was the son of another Skyfather….that had to cross some sort of line, right? He really didn't want to test that thought out by flying on a broom, on the off chance that it might cause an inter-pantheon scene, or worse, his death by a divine bolt of anger.

The second reason, well it was more along the lines of…He was the fucking son of the Greek God-King, the Skyfather of the whole Greek Pantheon! He had flown in the air like it was naught but land to walk upon, he had felt it against his skin like the touch of silken sheets, and he had felt the power he commanded over the sky a dozen times at his fingertips. What appeal did flying on a piece of wood hold for him, when he had already done things a hundred times more beautiful and awesome?

Once again looking up at the sky, he muttered a prayer to Tyche and cleared his mind the best he could, before thinking about the old man who had welcomed him and Hestia into the British Isles. "Lord Taranis, I ask your permission to rise in your domain, as long as it is required by my schooling.'

'Hmm, the hell happe-oh, you want to ride the brooms, how plebian of a son of the Sky!' Taranis' amused voice echoed in his head as the Celtic deity laughed, and as if his day wasn't irritating enough, Harry felt a minor disturbance in the air above him—far more muted than what he would have felt back in America, he noted—and he sidestepped to the left, his eyes narrowing at the bird droppings that passed by his shoulder. Taranis' laughter once again sounded in his head, and Harry stared up at the pigeon as it flew away, disappearing into the afternoon sun. 'The regions under the wizards are their own, boy, and you are a wizard, even though Greek blood might flow through your veins. You are permitted to do any activity the wizards perform, as long as it is not illegal according to their laws, or those of the non-magicals.'

'Thank you, Lord Taranis,' he muttered back mentally, deciding to sacrifice some of that treacle tart and roasted chicken to the god tonight—and hadn't Fred said that Charlie was bringing some cooked Dragon from Romania tonight, would he be able to send some to his father?

His mind returned to the present as Madam Hooch, an ex-professional Quidditch player started to give out instructions. In front of him, the yellow-robed Hufflepuff students stood silently, raising their hands above the brooms as Hooch went to them first.

"So fucking easy," he muttered, hearing her words and opening his fingers, "As if shouting 'up' will make a change."

A flex of his will, and a burst of his power later, the broom floated up smoothly to his hands, tilting slightly to accommodate his own lax grip. He studied the thing in his hands, his slightly better vision than normal mortals—a far cry from what he had been capable of just a week ago—allowing him to see the chipped wood and splintered shaft in far more detail than they could. His eyes then moved over the bends and kinks in its shape, the way the bristles were twisted and turning at wrong angles.

'A paper airplane is more aerodynamic than this thing,' he sighed, looking at the other brooms, only to wince as he caught sight of the one Fred had caught hold of…that thing looked like it was used to actually mop the floors here. Eyes flicking down to the battered and half-broken thing in his hands, Harry sighed and stared at the sky above. 'This is what I have been reduced to? Flying on a toy that is not even maintained? These kids would have been dead by now if this was the Camp and a monster attack happened.'

But maybe that was what had been bugging him in the back of his mind all along, he suddenly realized, still staring at the slight clouds above. Since that Satyr had taken him to the Camp, all he had been doing was fighting. Swinging his sword and throwing his powers around, he turned every monster he saw to dust, sending it back to Pit. At first, it was tough, with even a small group of Hellhounds making it a life-and-death battle.

But then his powers had grown, and he had battled a Chimera, unlocking more of his strength. And yet, the fighting had never stopped. He roamed across the surrounding areas, carrying demigods to the camp and slaying everything he came across along the way, his xiphos nothing but a storm of silver that cut through hide and hair alike. He fought, he bled, he ate ambrosia, used his magic to heal and the cycle repeated itself. Sure, over time he had grown strong enough to kill entire packs of Hellhounds or Laestrygonians within an eyeblink, the monsters had grown in quality and quantity both. Sometimes, he had been forced to spend time in the medics' care, especially after that Hydra attack, or when a group of stygian birds had literally pecked him out of the sky, their claws and beaks carving out his flesh to the bone in a few places.

But whatever the previous day had been like, the next day, he had been back on his feet. Training. Fighting. Learning. All to master his powers, all to be better than the next monster that came in front of him. All so that he would never have to see Abigail like he had to see Michael and Cynthia.

All so he could ram Poseidon's trident through his chest, and laugh like the monster did while raping his mother.

And then suddenly, he was here, in Britain in a world of magic. Where people didn't hide from monsters that could melt them, burn them, and tear them to pieces. Where you didn't have to worry that every time you stepped out of your home, it could be your last. Where children didn't learn the best and fastest way to kill at the age of eight so that they might live up to nine. It was weird, it was bright…it was peaceful.

And in that moment, as Hooch told them all to swing their legs over the brooms…Harry decided he liked peaceful things too.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't or HP or PJO.

AN-1: I have a Linktree, where you can read the NEXT SEVEN CHAPTERS right now, along with those of my other fics.

"Lux," his voice echoed in the empty corridors, a ball of soft, bluish-white light appearing before him as he walked out of the common room entrance. Shuddering for a moment as the coldness of the night settled upon him, Harry snapped his fingers, casting a warming charm upon himself as he continued onwards. Stepping through the shadows, he looked out of the window at the night sky, his eyes moving from one star to another as hundreds of them glittered in Nyx's domain.

Taking out his wand, he silenced his footsteps and cast a charm to his scent as he moved towards the stairs. A thrum of excitement shot through his body as he took a final glance out of the window, his eyes zeroing upon the stillness of the Black Lake and the silhouette of the forest beyond it. It had been a couple of weeks since he had arrived here, and he could stave off his curiosity no longer. Studying the books, practising his magic, and staying cooped up in that dorm had gone on for long enough.

Tonight, he was going to stretch his legs…and what better way to do it than to explore the Forbidden Forest?

Rolling his eyes as he saw the broom closet in front of him rumble for a moment, Harry shot a silencing charm at it, idly wondering whether Filch's cat could smell the couple's activities or not as he continued on his way. Humming a quiet tune as he moved through the silent castle, he found his mind wandering back to the nights he had spent in America…and the silence of the Zeus cabin that he had so enjoyed. There, it was just him on one big bed, a bathroom all of his own, and not even Chiron could enter without Zeus' approval.

But here? Here he had to share it with six other children...and that was without counting the shared shower rooms. It was bad enough that every morning, Fred and George somehow made a spectacle in the common room about how 'Harry's abs were harder than bludgers'. Aside from that though, the twins were arguably his only friend in Hogwarts, their antics and pranks reminding him of the Hermes' cabin's residents every day.

If it hadn't been for the fact that Taranis and Hestia both had said otherwise, Harry would have readily believed the Weasley terrors to be his Godly brother's children.

Other than that, nothing of note had really happened since the flying lesson, where he had had to evade a god's attempt at making a joke out of him—and be the object of everyone's fascination due to his flying skills. Idly, Harry wondered just what their reaction would be if they saw him fly without a broom, or pull a Darth Sidious on someone. Probably revere him considering he was a Gryffindor, he snorted, his mind flashing back to the looks the House of Green and Silver was thrown throughout the school. Superpowered and mystical they may be, but the wizards had their fair share of stupidity and shortsightedness.

They were so quick to condemn Slytherins due to the Blood War and the Dark Lord, that the whole legacy of the Slytherin House was sullied down to its roots. Even the children who were in no way aligned with the families that swore to the Dark Lord were viewed with suspicion and whispered about behind their backs. Somehow, it reminded him of how the demigods at the Camp behaved with him. Other than a select few—and even that number had dropped over the years—dropped dead, his mind whispered—everyone had mostly viewed him as a harbinger of destruction and some great future calamity.

His drachma was on that Great Prophecy everyone whispered about.

But that was none of his problem. He could give two fucks about what that bitchy Nightshade and her merry band of 'free women' thought about him and his actions—and the same went for all the demigods that whispered behind his back about how destructive and dangerous he was. For him, all that mattered was bringi-

"Did you hear about it?"

"The half-giant is always up to something or the other, but I don't believe this one," a girl snorted, and Harry stilled instantly, hiding behind an armored mannequin. Of course, the prefects were also patrolling the staircases for anyone who might want to roam around at night. The next moment, their words registered in his head, and his eyes widened as he looked towards the forest.

There was a fucking half-giant here? Someone got fucked by a Laestrygonian and gave birth to a half-monster?! Holy shit that was fuck-

"Yeah, I dunno why the Headmaster keeps him around, to be honest," the boy sighed, and Harry moved a step back as a hand suddenly came across his vision, the blue lining barely visible in the shadows, "My grandfather told me that the beast used to study here when Armando Dippet was the Headmaster, but was kicked out for breeding a monster within the walls of the castle. Dumbledore saved him from Azkaban, and kept him here as a pet."

"But still Amelia…bringing a fucking Cerberus to the School?! I am surprised he hasn't been turned into a piece of mangled meat."

"Kathy told me that Dumbledore got it approved from the Department at the Ministry beforehand, something about added security from invasive species," she answered, waving a wand to send out a pulse of golden light in front of her. "He pitched it as an opportunity for researchers to add to British revenue by coming to Britain to study a rare species."

"Fudge bought that?"

"He buys anything someone better than him tells him," the girl—Amelia, answered, and even though Harry couldn't see it, he could just hear how hard she had rolled her eyes. "Father was saying that soon it is going to be Malfoy. That ponce just gifted a manor to the Minister in Germany, hidden behind a tag of an orphanage of all things."

"Well, being a philanthropist has always been a curtain," the boy shook his head as they continued on their way. "Now, let's get this patrol over with. I am so sleepy I am seeing double right now."

"Same," Amelia groaned as they vanished around the corner, their diminishing voices echoing in the silence. "McGonagall really worked us to the bone today."

Coming out from his hiding spot, Harry took one last look toward the prefects before looking out of the window, rubbing the ring on his finger for a moment. Cerberus were Greek from their origin and other than the one the Lord of the Underworld commanded, Harry had never even heard of them. But the mentions of these…non-godly variants of monsters and mythological creatures had drawn his attention quite a lot ever since he had arrived in Britain. It was finally time that he got to witness just what made these animals different from the ones back home.

Waving a hand at one of the ghosts that populated the castle, he walked through the darkened corridors, his mind flashing back to the nights when he had walked through the forest back home. The chirping of birds and the voices of the demigods on guard wafting through the trees, accompanied by the sounds of some enthusiastic campers training into the night. Here though, it was completely silent except for the sound of the wind whistling through the meadows ahead of him, the sheer stillness of the sight before him taking his breath away for a moment. Even though it had been a while, the peacefulness of his days still managed to surprise him at times like this.

Shivering for a moment as a blast of cold air passed through the area, Harry shook his head and walked down the beaten path, looking at the slowly swaying branches of the Whomping Willow—and once again, there was a similarity between the flora here and the one back on the camp, for it looked much like the self-aware plants the Demeter Cabin grew and maintained for the camp's defense. Deciding upon asking Chiron about the sheer similarities between the two worlds—especially when according to Chiron and Hestia both, the gods didn't like meddling with the affairs of the wizards much—he continued down the trail.

At the edge of the forest, he could see lights glowing inside the small cabin, and now that he had a bit of context, he guessed it belonged to the half-giant the prefects had been talking about. If it weren't for the fact that he wasn't allowed to take out his sword or use his abilities to harm anyone here, he probably would have stormed the abomination's cabin by now—and was this something done by the Celtic gods? Like how Pasiphae's and the Minotaur's story went.

"Better hope not," he muttered out loud, shuddering with horror at the images his mind conjured at that thought. Kicking a stray branch to the side, Harry walked past the pens on the side of the cottage, eyeing the centipede-like organisms chained to the ground, his mind flashing back to the giant one he had battled just before coming to Hogwarts—hadn't Ollivander called it a Great Centipede or something? His eyes following the spikes on their backs and the glowing underbellies of the insects, Harry looked at the hut once again, "Just what in the name of Zeus is this thing smoking?"

"My father has done it again."

"Which minor god drew his ire this time then?"

"He didn't kill someone…he has instead seeded a mortal woman."

The bow in Zoe's hands dropped, only to be caught a second later as the Hunt's lieutenant, and her oldest confidant shot to her feet. The titaness' eyes were wide and disbelieving as they flicked in the direction of the girls once, before she looked back at her. "Again?!", she hissed, falling back to Ancient Greek as she drew a rune for silence in the air, bending the mist to her will to erect a ward around them, "it has barely been a decade since the last one! That boy has just gone to Britain, and the Skyfather decided it was time for another one?!"

"Careful Zoe," Artemis' eyes flashed as she looked down from the moon to her friend, "Beware of what and how you speak of certain things. It is none of our business, and certainly not under our jurisdiction to judge his acts."

"Forgive me, my lady," the daughter of Atlas shook her head, her fingers ghosting across the single letter tattooed on her neck, feeling the phantom sensations of being branded like a cattle once again as she lowered her eyes, "But I am only worried for the Hunt and what it means to have yet another child of the Three roaming the mortal world. Monsters are already growing stronger and more numerous by the day due to the imbalance in the energies created by the birth of that boy. The Hunt is already reeling from the regular skirmishes and the restrictions put upon us by the King. With another child of the Elder Blood…it could quite possibly be the Great Prophecy for all we know! You also know that within the last five years, we have lost fourteen Huntresses, and even though that ban is soon going to be lifted, it will take time to return to our former strength. With each Huntress that falls in battle, as a group we lose more of our strength because your blessing diminishes in power!"

"It's not the first since Harry…" Artemis responded after a few moments, closing her eyes as a squirrel ran up her body to sit upon her shoulder, the rodent rubbing its head against her cheek as nature itself felt her distress. And even though her eyes were closed, the Huntress could perfectly picture her friend's face as the words seemed to echo within the confines of the ward Zoe had created. But now that the news was out of the bag, there was no point in maintaining further silence upon her father's continued philandering ways. Sighing heavily as she raised her fingers to pet the squirrel, Artemis opened her eyes and looked at Zoe wearily, "There is a daughter, six to seven years old by now I believe. He fathered her on some Hollywood actress—and this time, it is a son…from the same woman."

"By the Chaos!" Zoe gasped as the gravity of Artemis' words settled upon her shoulders—and for a moment, she could empathize with her father, as the crushing weight of the reality that Artemis had just revealed was certainly no less oppressive than the sight of Ouranos crushing down on her father. Three children of the Three existing at once, and that too of Zeus only was a disaster in the making. Even if she didn't like the boy's attitude, Zoe would be a fool to ignore the strength and power Harry held within himself, and already, the monsters were growing…more monstrous as an effect. To add two more such beings to the equation would mean hell for the mortal plane—to say nothing about just what it would mean for the vows that Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon had taken at the end of World War 2.

"The Dark One and the Earthshaker are not going to take this silently," Zoe shook her head, and Artemis could only hold back another sigh at that. Her lieutenant was right. While she didn't put much stock in the ongoings outside of her Hunt, and certainly in those going on between her family, she knew that something of this scale wouldn't go unanswered by her uncles. Especially not with Harry being a sorcerer and a demigod.

"This child is Roman," she said after a few moments of silence, and just for a split second, instead of Artemis, Diana was sitting upon the rock, the auburn hair turning more fiery as her height increased, her face paling a shade along with her eyes darkening slightly. The next moment, it was Artemis again, her Roman aspect fading away from view as Zoe closed her eyes, as if waiting for the next bombshell to be dropped upon her, "Which means that someday, the Greeks and Romans may discover each other."

"And the war resumes yet again," Zoe's solemn voice echoed in the ensuing silence as she looked up at the sky, their celestial domains and connections allowing them to see past the light pollution at the stars above, "Just what are the Moirai weaving for all of us?"

"You shouldn't be here, wizard, the forest is not meant for your kind."

"So says who?" He asked in turn, coming to a stop as he looked to his left. And while he was putting up a confident face in front of whoever had stopped him, on the inside, Harry was shocked out of his wits. He had known that his demigod powers were going to diminish in a foreign land, but to this extent? Where he couldn't even sense or hear such a large animal until it was practically atop him?! And clearly, the beast or creature was magical, otherwise, it was impossible to not walk around here without making some sort of sound on the fallen leaves or branches.

"So says the leader of the centaurs that live in this forest, child," the heavy, clear voice replied, authority and amusement dripping from its tone in equal measure as the said centaur came into view. Raising an eye at him, the centaur continued, "Who are you to venture so deep into our lands, wizard? And that too at this time of the night?"

"Harry Potter," he answered, creating half a dozen balls of light around him and floating them towards the shadows, his flicking over every pair of eyes that were revealed within the foliage, "I wasn't aware that this was Centaur territory, if I have caused any disrespect by trespassing."

"Lord Chiron was right about you, Son of Zeus," the centaur rumbled as he walked towards him, a chuckle echoing through the trees as the beast lowered its horned head, fiery amber eyes peeking out from a rough, bearded face, "The Flamebearer's light has certainly tempered the arrogance within your blood."

"You know Chiron?!" He asked, surprised by the revelation, before his eyes narrowed upon the old centaur, "And what do you know about me."

"Enough to know that you are surrounded by death and destruction," he returned swiftly, raising himself to his full height, revealing the hundreds of scars on its front, the muscled torso littered with cuts and marks all over. "The stars are peculiar around you, young demigod. Lies, deceit, blood, war, darkness, light…you are at the center of all of this, and yet away from it in another time… which seems to be happening at the same moment. Considering you are going to be spending the next seven years here as our neighbor, I warn you in good faith Harry Potter. Beware of the blood and weight you carry. Your actions are capable of destroying the world as we know it now, and I'd rather not see an untimely apocalypse destroy us because of stupidity."

"It can't take just a show of good faith for you to come out and give me a warning," he crossed his arms, rubbing the disguised xiphos on his finger as he glared at the centaur, " I might be young, but I am not stupid."

"Lower your tongue boy," one of the centaurs shouted, and Harry's eyes shot toward the animal as an arrow was nocked by it. Seemingly taking that as a cue, a couple of other centaurs too raised their bows, aiming at him. Taking a couple of steps forward, the bronze centaur growled, the bow in his hands glowing a slight orange, "That is our Chief you are talking to, and take it as a sign of respect that he deemed you worth the warning. Centaurs are only concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

"Lower your bows, Bane, Amelthia," the chieftain ordered calmly, raising a finger in Bane's direction. Looking towards him, he continued, "My name is Pholus, named after our wise ancestor who once encountered your brother, Heracles. This warning was to merely convey the words of the stars to you, demigod, to make you aware of how not only yours, but everyone's future depends on your actions—whether they be wizard, demigod, or centaur. As you stated, you may be young, but you certainly aren't stupid, so I think you can be expected to take these words with the gravity they carry. May the stars light your path, demigod, and may this be the last time we cross paths."

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form.

AN-1: I have a Linktree, where you can read the NEXT SEVEN CHAPTERS right now if you wish to, just follow the link on the profile.

AN-2: Apologies for the delay, but I had broken my finger and couldn't type. Next update might be Phantom or TIC.

"See you next year Harry," Fred grinned as he tossed a small box towards him, "and that is for those prankster friends of yours back in America. Let's see how they like the British merchandise shall we?"

"I will," he chuckled, catching the brightly painted box and eyeing the label. "'Tears of laughter'...sounds morbid."

"It is," George nodded sagely as he slung an arm around his shoulder, looking up at him with a frown on his face. "You know, it is times like these which remind me of how freakishly tall you are."

"I just got my puberty early," he shrugged, before eyeing the licorice wand in Geroge's other hand, "and I didn't eat junk most of the time too."

"Ugh, not this again," Fred groaned, rolling his eyes as they saw the carriages approach from the shadows of the forest. "I have heard enough on health and sweets from my parents to last me a few lifetimes. I don't need another person harping on about it."

"Tell me that when your teeth fall off," he drawled, removing Fred's hands from his shoulder as he picked up his trunk. "At the rate you are going, I doubt you would have any left before Hogwarts is completed."

"Says the guy who keeps eating treacle tarts like it is the end of the world."

"It's…different," he hedged, avoiding eye contact with the twins as he felt their grins grow by an inch. And he was right, Harry thought petulantly, Treacle Tarts were the best thing on Hogwarts menu. Period, "Are you guys gonna do anything during the holidays?"

"Work on our products, and play some quidditch with Bill and Charlie," came the response from George as a carriage stopped in front of them, and Harry eyed the Thestral warily. It had come as a shock to him to know that no one else around him could see the greyish-black, skeletal steeds…but then a trip to the library had resolved the issue quite easily for him. Of course, no normal eleven-year-old would have seen a death up close and personal. Fred and George on the other hand, had taken his ability to view the mysterious creatures in stride—and after a moment of silence to contemplate on what viewing Thestrals meant for him, had started to crack jokes again. The one about how he could ride an invisible horse of death to rescue some damsel in particular had managed to make him laugh too.

Who knew the twins could weave stories and tales as interesting as Chiron himself.

"You could come over if you want," Fred offered with a shrug, his eyes flicking over to George. "You would enjoy chatting with Bill if you are also interested in ancient ruins and languages. Last I checked, he was also going through the Greek stuff."

"I will have to check in with my caretaker there, and Aunt Hestia," he shook his head, before grimacing as he remembered the rest of the camp. "And…I doubt I would get the time. I have a lot of responsibilities back home."

"What? Cleaning up after your little siblings?" George raised an eyebrow, miming a little child vomiting as Fred chuckled. Harry rolled his eyes at them, which only made it worse as the freckled ginger continued with a side-eye, "Ickle Harry wipes the babies clean and changes nappies! How cute?!"

Glaring at the students who had heard their words and started to chuckle too, Harry climbed up into the carriage with the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment, and the image of him wiping away a child's littering, Harry made a solemn vow of zapping the twin's brains into mush.

And then throwing them into the Black Lake.

Or the Forbidden Forest.

"Brat," the old, unwelcome, and familiar voice of Taranis echoed in the waiting rooms of Kings Cross, and Harry sighed as he looked up from the comic in his hands, finding the old Celtic god looming above him. The man was dressed sharply in formal attire, his beard trimmed and styled like a posh nobleman as his sapphire blue eyes roved over the mortals around them, before alighting back on his own. "Lady Hestia won't be coming today, and neither are any from your father's retinue. Come with me."

"What happened to Hestia?" He asked, surprise coloring his tone as he stood up, dropping the comic beside him as Taranis turned around, his cane tapping against the floor. The world shifted before him, and an instant later, Harry found himself standing before a familiar sight.

One that was even more unwelcome than Taranis.

"...What the fuck?" he muttered, standing beneath a tree as a dog ran through the park before him, where a familiar set of swings moved slowly in the win. "Why are we here of all places?"

"All dues must be paid, Son of Lily," Taranis muttered softly, and yet, his words seemed to surround him as Harry found himself in Little Whinging, the streets and houses he had once run through in terror and diminishing hope staring back at him. "Years ago, you lived here with your Aunt. And then one day, you struck them down when you awakened."

"Wouldn't have needed to if anyone did their jobs properly," he responded, unable to keep the bite out of his voice as he looked at the house right before them. 'Number 24, one of Dudley's bootlickers' he thought, looking at the god out of the corner of his eyes the next moment. "Don't judge me when it was my back that bled in that prison. I am a lot of things, but a murderer isn't one of them."

"Tis not my place to judge you demigod, and neither am I naming you a murderer," Taranis said back, and a weathered, bony hand landed on his shoulder, as light as a feather, but Harry could hear the silent command of the Celtic deity in the thunder that roared overhead, "The Tuatha Dé Danann does not concern it with the matters of other pantheons unless the laws of our land are broken. And neither do we meddle in the affairs of wizards. The non-magicals had left us behind for Christianity for the most part, and they enjoy that freedom from us. We are gods, aye, but we are not omniscient. We only came to know of you when you had your awakening, and summoned a part of my domain down in your anger."

"Why are we here then? Why bring me here now?" he asked after a moment of silence, turning his head in the direction of Number 40, the sight of smoke rising from the charred remains of that house still fresh in his mind after four years, "Is it because they were your subjects and I killed them using my demigod powers?"

"No, we could care less about a bunch of scum like them dying to their own mistakes…but what I care about is that you used my domain, in my lands. And the fact that you left your work incomplete."

"What do you mea-bloody hell…I left a Remnant behind?!"

"You did," Taranis nodded, pointing at a sickly cat slinking through the fence by their left, "Your aunt carried magical blood within her, unawakened though it was. And when struck by the fragment of divine power you had unleashed, it mingled and reacted chaotically. This is the reason why wizards and the divine don't mingle, Son of Lily. Both are beings of the abstract, playing with the strings of reality as they please—within bounds sure, but even they can be broken."

"That doesn't explain why she had turned into an undead bitch," he shook his head, remembering the lore and the half-torn image of a Remnant he had seen in the camp's bestiary. However, as his mind put the last memory he had of Petunia against the venom-spewing, shrieking, rotted corpse of Remnant, he sighed. "Not that she wasn't before, but still."

"Intent. You wished her dead, and she wished to remain behind for some reason related to you," Taranis explained as the day suddenly turned into night, and Harry saw a lightning bolt drop from the sky in the direction of his old residence. It cut through the darkness slowly, each spark and branch of each burning through the blackness behind as Harry remembered the moment vividly. "The vileness of her thoughts, whatever they may have been, combined with the rage and hate in your energy…it burned through the pieces of her corpse hours after her death. Arawn received only the tatters of her soul, while the other three were fully intact, and were sent off to the Undead One based on your father's energy being found the reason for their death. The remaining pieces of her soul however, boiled and churned together in the mess of energies left behind in the wake of the destruction, soaking up the magic and latching onto her mortal shell."

"And she has been feeding on everything here for years," he muttered, as the bolt finished dropping in, and a flash of light lit up the world for a moment as the ground shook beneath them, the sound of explosion echoing for seconds to come as he closed his eyes. "Why not destroy her yourself? I doubt the non-interference is so important that you would leave her to fester and prey upon the mortals for so long."

"The Tuatha Dé Danann does not have a band of demigods hunting for monsters across our lands anymore, for we do not frolic with the mortal akin to your lot," Taranis snorted, and even Harry had to wince at the clear derision in the god's voice. But the words rang true, especially with just how out of sorts the Hermes Cabin had gotten recently. Giving him a measured look, the deity smoothed a wrinkle in his coat as he continued. "And neither does Cernunnos employ a group of empowered brats to hunt for monsters, as we rarely have any. Most which do pop up, and are taken care of by the magical creatures, or the wizards themselves."

"And the muggles that died due to her rot?"

"Thirteen so far," Taranis mused, as with a tap of his cane, the world returned to normal, and the sun shined upon them once more. "Based on the rumors and newspaper reports, the people claim this to be a haunted spot, and supposedly, it is your spirit that haunts this place. Very few humans still live in this area, if at all. Your aunt spends most of her time wailing and flying around in search of anything to devour, while the splinters of her soul long for your presence. Nowadays, it is mostly stray animals and 'ghostbusters' who are her prey, but even that has dwindled as her presence carves itself into the land. Most of the Little Whinging had moved away within the first month—and five deaths. The fact that your body wasn't found amongst the rubble and pieces of your relatives certainly helped the belief."

"Well, time to get to work," he muttered, willing his xiphos to his hand as he took a step towards Number 40, however, Taranis' fingers once again clutched his shoulder, stopping him in tracks. Looking up at the god, Harry let the bewilderment in his thoughts show as he grumbled. "What now?"

"Your demigod powers are not returned to you yet," came the response, and indeed, Harry could feel the diminished pool of energy, still out of reach unlike how he had expected. "The laws are still in effect."

"Then how am I to fight a Remnant?" He narrowed his eyes, flicking a hand in the direction of his undead aunt. "I doubt a punch would get the job done."

"That is your task," the Storm god returned swiftly, his swirling grey eyes turning towards him before he vanished into the wind. "You have until sundown, Son of Lily."

"Bloody hell, that's awful," he muttered, coming to a stop in front of the place where his aunt's house had stood. Nothing more than a blackened crater with a few dead plants here and there, the place looked like nothing more than a simple blast zone to an unassuming muggle. To a wizard or a demigod? The place looked like a scene from some horror fantasy. Skulls and bones were scattered across the place, and overgrown plants that littered her once pristine garden were decorated with spines and ribs like some twisted parody of how Petunia had covered them with lights and sparkles in the Christmas season.

Poisonous green light shone through the cracks in the ground, and now that he was practically standing atop the ruin, he could finally feel the foulness that permeated the land here. It crawled over his skin like sticky, oily grime, and with every breath he took, it felt like more and more rotten sulfur was entering his lungs. "Damn, Best House in the Neighborhood goes to Petunia Dursley."

Stepping through the rotted fencing, Harry kicked over a bone aside, staring at the animal's skeleton as he walked towards the center. "Now, where the hell is she?" he muttered, his fingers itching to hold his xiphos again as adrenaline began to flow through his veins, his eyes flicking over in every direction for any hint of the Remnant, "Come on out aunty, time for a reunion!"

"Haaa-rrrryyy" a whisper echoed in the silence of the evening around him, and Harry tensed as he felt a magical presence slowly gather to his right. Turning his eyes to the spot, he watched the glowing green embers on the dead plants and soil around him rise and coalesce into a swirling mass of pulsing energy, the very air around him growing more… oppressing and toxic by the second as the Remnant took form.

Bits and pieces of bones joined the chaotic mess, and Harry jumped back as the skull beneath his foot too shot toward the forming body. "Wish it been a dog's," he muttered spitefully, raising his hand, his palm facing the now almost formed body of his undead aunt, "Or better yet, that rabid bitch Marge."

"Haarrryyyyy" it whispered yet again as the spectral monster finished forming, the skull's eye holes glowing with an ominous, viridian light, as the spines and bones around him floated over to form its staff, "Yoouuuuu….kkiilll-"

A blasting spell shot out of his palm towards her, blitzing through the air before another syllable could be uttered and striking her right in the middle of her chest. With a crackle of bone being shattered, her form blasted outwards a wave of emerald energy, only to pull back together just as quickly. Harry sighed at that, staring down at the monster before him. 'Of course, it wouldn't be that easy,' he thought with a grimace, shooting another spell at the Remnant, only for it to swerve out of the way like it had all the time in the world to do so. 'Now, what can I do against here? What the fuck did that Bestiary say about Remnants? A whole lot of poison and rot, and undead creatures that hunt anything smaller than them.'

The next moment, he was forced to duck as a stream of poisonous vapors shot towards him from half a dozen directions, one even coming from directly below him as he jumped backward. The pungent odor nearly made his nose burn off, and tears burned in his eyes as Harry scrunched them shut. He paid for it dearly, as the next moment, his head snapped back from the impact of her staff against his cheek. A coldness seeped through his skin from the point of impact, and Harry winced as he felt his flesh rot away enough for even his tongue to feel from the inside of his mouth. It hurt like hell, to feel his flesh wither away in a matter of moments, but it had nothing on the feeling of the Hydra's venom ripping through his body.

"Miiiiinnnnne!" the creature hissed as he blindly stumbled back, his foot catching on a stray bone. It was only due to his instincts that he managed to dive sideways, the barely there perception he had the magic around him letting him know of the stream of acidic poison launched at him. Opening his eyes to glare at the Remnant, Harry jumped to his feet and shot another spell at the spectral monster, his mind running a dozen thoughts at once even as it dodged the stunner easily. Even though he had known it beforehand, it was still a daunting task to fight without his usual skills and powers as he floundered for a way to stop the onslaught of the poisonous vapors and incoming attacks for a moment. Ever since he had held a sword in hand, it had always been his demigod body and the powers that came from his father against the monsters he faced. But here? In the land of the Celts he was severely limited as he could only use the magic that his mother had used, and even then, it had only been a year since he had started formal training in it.

"Fucking bitch! Can't even die peacefully can you?!" he snarled, summoning his wand to his hand and pointing it at the reanimated collection of bones in front of him, "Incendio!"

A roaring gout of flames erupted from his wand, burning away the green miasma of venom that lingered upon the ground as the fire raced toward his target. The orange-white light shone through the growing darkness around him, and Harry delighted in the hiss that came from the Remnant. "You don't like the heat? Or the light?" he shouted, pouring even more power into his spell, making it become something far more than a simple Incendio as he willed it to burn brighter and hotter, the orange turning to a much paler shade as Harry felt sweat form on his brow. Around him, the already dead vegetation began to ignite on itself as the temperature rose, and so did the incoherent, hateful screeching of the Remnant as he saw a tongue of a fire lick at her heels.

"Ssstuupidd boy!" she shrieked, and Harry watched her slam her staff into the ground, waves of dark green magic racing out towards him as she vanished in a swirl of viridian, "Youuu kkilled Duddleeyy!"

"Not like you weren't choking his veins to death with all that cholesterol and sugar already!" he called out, whipping his wand across his front to create a shield as he looked around. Wincing as he felt the Remnant's magic push and corrode away at the shield. Cutting off his flames, Harry raised his wand upwards and channeled his power into it, casting one of the first spells Flitwick had taught them, "Lumos Solem!"

Closing his eyes as the evening turned into day, Harry willed the sphere of light to float above. His shield buckled on his left, and Harry grimaced as the rotten, pungent smell of the Remnant invaded his nose yet again, its staff screeching across his shield. Cracks splintered across the barely visible surface, and he glared into the soulless, manic pools of poison that were now his undead aunt's eyes, "Die already you crone, I don't want to stay in this place a second longer!"

"Freak!" the Remnant's shriek echoed in the compound, and his shield shattered like glass , leaving him surprised and completely defenseless in the face of the claws that appeared from his left. He moved as soon as he felt his shield be unmade, but lacking even a tenth of his demigod constitution…it wasn't enough. The claws, nothing more than brittle, age-old bones tore through his clothes and skin like it was wet paper, the magic holding the skeleton together burning away his flesh and clothes in a flash of acid and rot, "Freeakkk! Freak! Freak! Freak!"

"Yea-Yeah?" he grunted, holding up a hand to his abdomen. Thankfully, she hadn't managed to wound him too deeply, and the magic in her claws had burned the wound shut. With acid sure, but at least he wasn't bleeding from his stomach, and who needed kidneys anyways? Ignoring the lance of agony that shot through his whole abdomen, Harry looked around himself. He needed to end this soon. Light and fire were keeping away the Remnant, but he didn't know if it was going to kill her or not, but her attacks could kill him. Not in one shot sure, but chip away at a rock enough, and it turns to dust eventually. "At least I am not clinging to life like the miserable bitch you are, Petunia!"

"Dead!Dead!DeAD!DEAD!"

Another stream of poison came at his back, and Harry barely cast a clypeus in time, wringing his arm back to block it with the arm-shield. Even as he jumped forward and kept looking around for any hint of the creature in the now-brightened crater, his mind kept running through any speck of information that might help him. The remnant was magical in nature, and it had no heart or brain holding it together. There were no organs to destroy, so the only thing left was magical attacks. But even then, he doubted blasting it with a bombarda was going to have any lasting effect, not when he had already tried a smaller version beforehand.

'Spectres mostly have a tether, binding them to the mortal coil even after their passing' Chiron's words came back to him suddenly, and Harry's eyes widened as remembered that day. A son of Hermes had fallen in a skirmish a few miles away, and somehow returned as a poltergeist to the camp. He had been struck down when Chiron had shot the locket floating around his neck, and explained to all of them what it took to defeat the undead, 'Look for something connecting them to this world, or in some cases, something they have created over time to be their anchor.'

'Nothing of the house is left for it to be of use, and I doubt Dudley's or her bones are still lying around in here' he thought, spotting the Remnant swirl into existence once again, floating beyond the edge of the crater, hiding behind a slab of wood as his lumos shone above him. Even though her face lacked expressions, and her eyes were nothing more than eerily glowing pools of the magic that held her together, Harry had no trouble realizing that she was giving him the same hateful, disgust-filled sneer she had possessed when she had been alive. The lumos was stopping her physical attacks for now, but even that wasn't going to be an option for long with how much it was draining him to keep the light active and floating, along with shielding at the same time—and of course, the fact that he was also pushing his magic into healing his wounds at the same time. Glancing at the staff in her hands, the spines twisting around femurs and forearms in a morbid display, Harry felt like tearing his hair out in frustration. The staff couldn't be her tether, otherwise, she wouldn't swing it around, and neither would it be scattered around on the grou…oh for fucks sake!

"Thirteen so far" Taranis' words came back to him, and Harry looked around himself, the bleached, dirt-covered bones of the Remnant's kills scattered all over the ground. The people she had killed ever since reforming, their death was the source of her power, a portion of their souls devoured by her to keep herself attached to this realm.

"In magic, we have three numbers who stand above the rest, due to how they affect the world around them. These are 3, 7, and 13."

"Thanks for that, Edwards," he muttered, raising his wand at one of the skulls right by his feet, "Bombarda"

An explosion of dirt and violent green magic filled his vision, and Harry grinned as he felt the wave of magic that was released from the shattering. A moment later, the Remnant screamed, visibly distorting the air around them, and blasting his eardrums open as spikes of condensed poison entered his left arm.

Definitely on the right track then.

Whipping his wand across his front, Harry raised the Earth before him into a wall as he let the Lumos above fade away. Darkness descended upon them suddenly, and even though it had not even been five minutes since he had arrived, the sun had shifted enough for shadows to stretch all over the place. "One down, twelve to go," he muttered, finding another skull sitting right behind him, the eye that was visible past the dirt glowing dimly with the same sickly green he was growing to hate with each passing second, 'or eleven I guess. Diffindo!'

A wave of magic once again pushed out from the destroyed tether, and Harry grinned at the shrieking Remnant as he felt warm blood drip down the sides of his neck, casting a shield to stop her staff from breaking open his skull at the last moment, "How 'bout it, auntie? Reminds me of when you used to whip me for breaking your China or glasses."

"Freak! DESTROY!"

Her claws came for his face, glowing a sickly green. They struck his shield and stopped for just a moment, before it shattered with a quiet snap, but he was already backing away. Transfiguring the wood around him into iron with a muttered ligno ferrum, he speared the specter with it. Enraged as she was, the monster didn't even dissolve itself as it streaked forwards, its staff's tip glowing with magic as its chest and arm were skewered by the iron.

However, his eyes widened as he saw the iron rust within moments as he ducked underneath a wild swipe. His foot got caught on some rubble, and Harry cursed as he fell on his ass, feeling the loss of his demigod powers now more than ever as he forced his body to roll over. It had been a very long time since he had been so weak, the constant feeling of strength enough to shatter stones with his fingers had never looked so far off and precious to him. "Bombarda!" he chanted, grimacing as dirt blew into his face, but the scream of the Remnant behind him more than up for it as he caught two skulls at once—which were naught more than children when they died, judging by the size, "Nine."

The magic holding the Remnant together flickered wildly, and Harry smiled at her like a shark as he sent another Incendio at her, laughing at the shriek of agony that it let out. "Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted, stabbing hsi wand in its direction, raising the stones around him with his other hand and throwing them at its head as if they were bullets. The creature screamed in anger, visible sound waves shattering his ammunition before they could even come close, and Harry grunted as he felt himself slide back. However, his spell seemed to have some kind of effect still, as she writhed and slammed her head against invisible bonds holding her stationary. Taking in a much-needed breath, Harry grimaced, wiping away the blood dripping down his neck, opening and closing his jaw as he felt the ache in his ears as he kept looking around for the other eight skulls. Looking at the glow coming from one of the cracks in the ground, Harry's eyes widened as they shot all over the place, before looking at the struggling Remnant, its aura growing wilder and larger by the minute.

Backing away from the ruins of the plot, Harry pointed his wand at the ground, now wishing more than ever that he had bothered to learn magic a little more enthusiastically at Hogwarts. 'Scratch that thought, I am going to fucking devour the Restricted Section if Taranis is going to continue taking me on these field trips! And it is not like magic isn't useful otherwise too,' he thought, pulling at the well of power inside him as he even stopped the healing of his wounds. Pushing against the flaked, decayed flesh of his cheek with his tongue, Harry took a deep breath, the smell of rot and dead flesh entering his lungs like smoke from a cigarette, and he touched the small smatterings of the divine energy still viable to him. It was like a few drops from a bucket's worth of water he had been used to before this year, but at that moment, it was enough.

Pushing the Earthshaker's might with his own magic, Harry pointed his wand at the ground before him, wishing it to implode. For a moment, as his magic connected with every dirt and rock before him via the divinity of Poseidon within him, Harry was able to feel it all. The sheer vileness of the Remnant's presence upon the land, the echoes of how it had come crawling back from the afterworld, and even the lingering traces of his own lightning bolt from years ago. The next moment, he crushed it all together like a battering ram hitting it from every direction, grinding and pushing everything and anything against each other as the dirt heaved up from his action. Coughing as the dirt got into his mouth, Harry staggered down a knee at the sudden loss of energy from the action he had just performed.

However, seeing the Remnant scream and shake wildly from the loss of its tethers, he grinned past the blood welling from his insides. Given the amount of magic he had felt underneath the dust and dirt, he had managed to destroy seven skulls at once. Now it was down to only two, and even then, one was right in front of him, glaring at him as it swirled into existence barely a foot away from him, with its hand already tearing towards his gut. His eardrums were torn, otherwise, Harry was sure he would have heard nothing more than her wild screams promising him death as he felt the bones of her hand pierce through his front, stabbing right into his stomach and injecting him with its magic. Grabbing the femur that was somehow functioning as its forearm, Harry ignored the way his skin burned and flaked as he bared his teeth right in her face, and blasted her chest with a point blank bombarda. Bound as she was by his hand, there was no time or opportunity for the Remnant to scatter like before, and instead, with a wave of green energy, the specter was blasted to bits, with the bones that made it up scattering all over the place.

Grunting as he felt the rotten magic invade through his wounds into his body, Harry slowly rose to his feet, finding each moment more and more laborious as the several doses of the Remnant's poison began to affect him. Already, he was unable to feel the left side of his face, and his breathing was beginning to get more and more difficult as its magic eroded his lungs and burned his blood. "No-Now, where is the last one?" he grunted, looking at the destroyed earth around him. It wasn't here, that he was sure of, otherwise he would have seen or felt it by now with how dark it had become, and how pretty much every inch of the ground had been upturned and crushed. Closing his eyes, he focused on the Remnant's magic as he felt it once again begin to collect together to reform its body, separating its active threads from the passive cloak it had formed upon the earth as the rattle of bones moving across the ground echoed in the silence. 'There!' he thought victoriously, opening his eyes to stare to his right as he found a tether moving off away from the place where Number 40 had once stood, 'and it is…moving?'

Turning his eyes in the tether's direction, Harry blinked at the sight of emerald, feline eyes staring back at him before the cat turned around and slinked into the shadows. "Oh no you don't!" he shouted, stumbling a little as he moved after it, raising his wand towards the animal, "Diffindo! Bombarda! Diffindo!"

The fence was cut and blasted into smithereens at once, but fast as he was, the feline was faster still. Already, the distance between them had doubled, and Harry had no illusions about catching a cat on the run, especially as he was now. Breathing heavily as he felt his whole body shiver from the coldness of the poison inside his blood, inside his very magic itself, he raised his wand and looked at the speeding feline. As it slinked between a gap in the fencing and took a jump, Harry transfigured the plant before it into a cage, thanking McGonagall once again for teaching them something better than a bloody boil cure.

Summoning the cage to his feet before even a second could pass, Harry looked at the yowling and screeching cat, before raising his eyes towards the reforming specter. Right, no need for dramatic standoffs and final words of victory. He was tired, and he wanted Hestia's cookies ASAP. "Diffindo," he sighed, slashing his wand at the cat, before raising it towards the skull that was floating towards the rejoining bones of the Remnant, "Bombarda."

A wave of emerald magic erupted from the skull as it was reduced to dust in an eyeblink, and harsh winds blew across the area for a moment, blowing dirt and bones everywhere. With a wail that he heard despite his deafness, Harry felt the magic of the Remnant pull together at the center of the crater, visible green streams and embers of energy rising off the ground and the totems he had broken. Shuddering a little as he felt the poisonous magic of the Remnant literally get pulled out of his wounds, Harry stared at the ball of light green energy collecting before him. Some part of him, whether it was his intuition, or just a guess, knew what was coming…and he wanted no part of it.

Turning around, he hobbled out of the crater, wrenching the femur embedded in his thigh out with a squelch as he pointed his wand at the wound, healing it enough to stop the bleeding at least. Taranis stood just beyond the street on the other side, his hand behind his back with a robed individual by side, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood. The Celtic deity looked him over, his eyes lingering for a moment on the destroyed flesh on his face before he looked at the crater behind him. "You performed admirably, considering this was your first magical combat," the god said, before looking at the being beside him, "Take that to Arawn, and tell him to keep it here. No need to send her to Hades and let her soul be repaired. Damning her to the torment of a torn soul seems adequate punishment."

The cloaked man nodded, and in a swirl of shadows, disappeared off to the task as Harry finally came to a stop before the god of Thunder. "I left my trunk at the station," he muttered, looking down at his wand hand before meeting the grey eyes boring down upon him, "Is it stolen by now?"

"Sent to your camp already," the god shook his head, before holding out his cane. "This will drop you off at the edge of the ocean at your camp. Send my regards to Lady Hestia."

"Thank you for that, Lord Taranis," he muttered, grabbing onto the cane and lowering his head slightly. He closed his eyes as he exhaled, feeling the exhaustion hit every part of his body like a hit from the Hydra. Taking a breath, Harry felt the familiar smell of sea and olives enter his nose, and his eyes opened with a snap, looking down at the water hitting his feet as a crab crawled by on the sands.

"Home sweet home."

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form.

AN-1: Had a bad case of block on Chapter 26, but that's out of the way now, so here is the update. Also, if there are any Artemis' and the Hunt's fans out here...well I will let the chapter do the talking.

AN-2: I have a Linktree, where you can read the NEXT SEVEN CHAPTERS right now if you wish to by following the link on my profile!

AN-3: One thing I would like to address are the reviews about how I have disclosed the ending already, and that we already know everything there is to know about Harry.

We also knew everything about Perseus, about Heracles, and how they were the children of Zeus, and we also knew that they would succeed in their end goals of fulfilling their quests of killing Medusa and Hydra and the other things that followed. But it was the journey that mattered more than the end goal, at least in my opinion. And besides, who said that the prologue was the ending anyway?

"It has become a recurring theme," Chiron muttered, wrapping the bandage around his ribs as Harry stood in his office, drinking some nectar-infused mango juice as the centaur went about his work, "Do you feel as if you are some immortal warrior of the tales, Harry? Torn flesh, broken bones, Hydra Venom, destroyed eyes, and now necrosis? What's next on your list?"

"I always wanted to fight the Pit Serpent, if it has reformed," he answered, and Chiron's fingers stilled upon his ward's injuries. Evidently, that seemed funny to the young demigod, and Harry laughed out loud, only to wince as it shook his injuries. Good, the boy needed some incentive to stay still, "Fuck, that hurts."

"As it should child," came the sharp rebuke, a pillar of warm yellow light appearing at the center of Big House, and he smiled as he felt his sister's presence fill the space around him once more, and given the delighted gasp that Harry let out…Hestia's clipped tone hadn't registered with him in the slightest. And why should it, Chiron realized with a sigh, it had been months since Harry had seen the only mother he had ever known, even if the boy addressed the Hearth Goddess as his aunt.

"Aunt Hestia!" the boy exclaimed joyfully, raising his leg to step towards the goddess, only for Chiron's grip on his shoulder to pin him in place. Giving him a stern glare honed by thousands of years of dealing with prickly sons of the Skyfather, as the boy looked at him irritatedly with his blue eyes that looked more Zeus than Poseidon, he applied the salve over the bandages again. Hestia began to walk towards them at that moment, her gaze lingering on the dark green color seeping through the gauze before they met his in a polite nod.

"Chiron," she nodded with a smile, before her eyes moved over the dead, blacked flesh on her nephew's face, and her lips pursed in displeasure, "Necrosis? What have you tangled with this time Harry?"

"A Remnant," he mumbled, poking his tongue out of the hole in his cheek, only to pull it back as Chiron slapped a salve-soaked patch right over the ruined flesh, and Harry gagged at the bittersweet taste now invading his mouth. "Dammit! You could have warned me Chiron!"

"And someone wanted to fight the Pit Serpent," he snorted, feeling Harry still beneath his hand as Hestia's warm presence turned burning cold for just a moment, the homely atmosphere feeling like a desolate wasteland as the Hearth Goddess took a sharp breath. The next moment, the demigod yelped as Hestia's fingers found his ear, twisting it painfully.

"I will get to that later, but first of all…why were you fighting a Remnant, that too after just coming back?" Hestia frowned, his ear still in her grasp, and Chiron rolled his wheelchair backwards, pouring himself a cup of nectar as he watched the show. "Did the Celts not leave you at the camp's borders?"

"More like at Amer-ow! Hestia that hurts!" Harry cried, only for Hestia to twist his ear further, making it clear that she was in no mood to hear his jokes. As he stood up on his toes to alleviate some of that pain, the boy seemed to wise up as he began to recount the events from where Lord Taranis had picked him up from King's Cross. As the story continued, Chiron felt his eyes widen more and more, especially at the bit where Harry crushed several totems at once using his Earthshaker blood.

"He could have at least let you use your sword," Hestia muttered, letting Harry go—and Chiron winced mentally as he saw how the part where she had gripped Harry had gone blue. "Is your trunk returned?"

"It is," Chiron spoke, nodding at the said trunk lying in the corner of his office, "it appeared in the Ocean, and a nymph was kind enough to bring it here after she realized who it belonged to. Though, it took you much more time than what I expected, Lady Hestia. Were there any problems in Takamagahara?"

"You went to the Shinto Pantheon?!" Harry asked, surprised.

"I did, Lady Amaterasu is a close friend of mine," she smiled, nodding as she created a projection of the Shinto heaven around them, and Chiron looked with wonder at the floating islands that made the domain of the Shinto Pantheon. "It had been years since we had last met, as she had been busy sorting the mess made after World War Two ever since. And while I was there, we had a surprise visitor in the form of the Lord Hanuman."

"The Monkey God? Even the Hindu Pantheon is real?" he exclaimed, while Chiron was more surprised at the fact that a Hindu deity had decided to venture out of their lands at all. After the Egyptian gods, the Hindus were the most secluded, and even then, all forms of communication carried out by them were usually through the Sage Naarad, the unofficial messenger of the Hindu Gods.

"They are," Hestia nodded with a small smile, before producing a basket of mangoes in her hand. "Lord Hanuman sends these as a gift for you both, grown in his personal gardens. And Chiron, he thanks you for saving that group of monkeys from the monsters last June."

"Whoa!" Harry mumbled, as the smell of the fruits wafted through his nose, the sweet scent nearly making his eyes close as his mouth salivated. "Why send for me too though?"

"He found your feat of slaying the Hydra, and rescuing demigods quite chivalrous, and well, he likes to share mangoes with everyone, as they are his favorite fruits," she answered, conjuring herself a chair to sit down as the illusion of Takamagahara disappeared from around them. "Lord Tsukuyomi even compared it to his brother's battle against the Yamato no Orochi, and has indicated an interest in meeting you should the chance ever arise."

"Harry, take these and get some rest," Chiron spoke, taking out a couple of mangoes from the basket and giving them to the demigod, his eyes turning hard as the boy opened his mouth to protest. "No. I said you are going to rest, and that is what you are going to do…or do you want Lady Hestia to be the one to order you?"

That seemed to do the trick, as Hestia raised an eyebrow at their nephew, and all of his complaints died with an audible click as he shut his mouth, giving him a sullen glare over his shoulder before walking off with the mangoes.

"I can't decide whether it is pride or anger," Hestia muttered, watching the door close behind Harry, the faint traces of ozone in the air disappearing as the irate demigod walked away.

"I am rather happy we have not seen conclusive proof for either," he remarked drily, remembering the last time the sons of Zeus and Poseidon had displayed either of the two virtues, and half the world had burned for it. And the less said about Harry being a special case, the better. Waving a hand towards the gifts from the Monkey God, Chiron watched the fruits unpeel as at the same time, they were cut into slices, the pieces floating over to him and his sister. "His magic feels more refined, and certainly more powerful."

"I am still rather fascinated by his usage of magic as a substitute for divine energy," Hestia murmured, biting into the succulent fruit, and if Nirvana existed, she believed she had found it. Almost moaning with joy at the taste that flooded her taste buds, she looked at the fruits with wonder in her eyes. "Do you think he will mind if I ask for a few more? These are better than anything on Olympus!"

"Considering you are the most liked Greek across Pantheons, I doubt it," Chiron shook his head with a smile. It was no hidden secret to anyone with a brain that out of the Olympians, and even the whole gaggle of immortals their family had, Hestia was the best, and the most liked one even on the international stage. There was a reason that, despite Athena holding the domains of strategy and intelligence, Hestia was the one chosen to act as an envoy and emissary.

Plus, Lord Hanuman was known to share the offerings of his garden with everyone.

The Immortal's gentle and gifting nature aside, Chiron looked at the door and sighed heavily. "His powers are going to grow even more, chained and bound as they are going to be in the Celtic lands. It's like Hecate all over again. The magic that runs in his veins is another source of power, yet, mingles with his divine soul at the same time."

"It is not going to add to his power," Hestia shook her head, and he listened with attention as she closed her eyes. "Maybe not in the strictest sense. But what I think it is going to do is, mix in with his divine blood when he wants it, and stay separate when he doesn't. It is like having two halves of a sword. He can use them as they are, or join them together to produce something entirely different."

"We all know how that turned out with Ekrizdis," he nodded, mind flashing back to the darkness that had clouded the Sun for days on the end, the raging black seas threatening to swallow their boats as they had stared up at the floating form of the young god, his ice blue eyes staring down at them even as his vile will had threatened to destroy the whole world. The boy had not been much too powerful in his demigod days, but he had been half wizard. And that had ultimately given him a much different powerset than what they were used to. And along with that terribly versatile power, Ekrizdis was smart. He had an instinctive grasp of magic that even his mother had been wary of, the boy was crafting rituals and magicks so complicated that Zeus had seen fit to reward him with godhood after the boy had slain a minor god.

Harry, while not much of a scholarly type yet, seemed to have a similar type of understanding of his powers. Unconsciously or not, the boy had been mixing magic with his lightning for a while now, whether to control it better with the much fluid nature of magic, or just because it was in his blood, Chiron didn't know. Even after living for thousands of years and watching a hundred different divine events, there was much about the abstract that he didn't understand.

And neither did Hestia, if the contemplative hum she let out was any indication.

"Still, I believe Harry won't be like his predecessors, either demigod or wizard," she shook her head, "he has his faults, but I am yet to see any signs of him being a calamity like Ekrizdis or those before him."

"We never do until it is too late."

"I am telling you, Amanda, this is as surprising to you as it is for everyone, but Beryl Grace has just given birth, and once again, we have no idea who the father is," a reporter's voice echoed in the cafeteria, a spoon snapped in the momentary silence, bringing everyone's attention from the television to the woman sitting in the corner, her eyes staring the screen.

"Miss, is there a problem with your order?" The waitress asked as conversation resumed across the diner, and Zoe shook her head, the Hunters around her looking at her oddly.

"There is none, my hand slipped for a moment," she smiled pleasantly before Atlanta called her over for some kind of..mocktail she wanted, and the daughter of Atlas stared at the screen again. When one was six millennia old, mortals' scales of time seemed like nothing but eyeblinks sometimes. And as had the months since her heart-to-heart with her Lady in the woods, with only the birth of this…Jason Grace breaking her out from the monotony of the past year. But now, as she reached out towards nature with the feeble connection she still had to it as a Titan dedicated to plants, and Artemis' chief handmaiden, she could feel it.

Births of demigods always affected the flow of energies around the world, but for the place in which they were living, it was always much more pronounced…and for someone like Zeus, or in this case, Jupiter to father a child, the effect was even more profound. While her senses weren't anything in front of someone connected to the world like her Lady, Zoe was still capable enough to sense the slight…restlessness of the world. The gods, the spirits, the animals, and even the monsters…anyone who could sense the birth of the King of the Gods' third child, were bleeding and resonating their apprehension, anger, and fear into the ebb and flow of the very world. Zoe wasn't much aware of just how the connection between the divine and the physical world worked, except for the fact that even the slightest of changes in an immortal's psyche affected the world around it in some way. And now, the birth of Jupiter's son had created a cycle that was going to continue as long he was alive, his divine presence attracting monsters and gods alike.

One to devour, the other to deceive.

And it was the Hunters that were going to bear the brunt of it.

Their task, as dictated by Zeus, was simple. To act out on Artemis' domain of the Hunt, and kill any monsters deemed a threat to a company of demigods. In the modern classification taught to demigods, that meant a monster between Tier 3 to Tier 5. Some were simply too powerful, while others had a…what was the modern term? A Gimmick, Zoe remembered with a frown. A particular defensive or even elusive trait that made them difficult to kill, or even more dangerous. With the Hunters of Artemis primarily composed of demigods, with only a rare mortal joining them every couple of years, the Blessing of Artemis only compounded upon their already divine constitution, making them faster, stronger, and more agile than what they had been. Thus, as a task force, they were much more effective at culling the monsters and the groups that formed.

And as she had said to her Goddess a few months ago, it was her siste-

"Ah dammit, it had to be this one," a tired, annoyed, and familiar voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, and Zoe looked up from her coffee at the entrance. 'Great Hera!' she sighed, realizing just who the intruder in their peace and quiet was. Though, in hindsight, it was her fault only, for deciding to sup so near the camp that a demigod might decide to have the same idea. Shadowed blue eyes looked at her the next moment, and the boy shook his head as he looked back out.

"Sir, are you waiting on someone?" The waitress who had just asked her walked over to the boy, and he gave a tired grin as he shook his head. Nodding, the young woman pointed at the only free table and smiled at him brightly. "Well then, we have a free table there. I'll be with you in just a moment!"

"Just get me an Americano and some fries," he smiled back, and silence descended upon the Hunters as everyone slowly realized who had entered the diner. Giving them all a look as the waitress walked back to the kitchens, the Son of Zeus walked over to the indicated table, dropping his bag upon it before sitting down, raising an eyebrow at her, "'Sup?"

"Did thee come here on purpose?" She asked in turn, her lips pursing together in displeasure as she looked towards Debra, the daughter of Hecate glaring at the demigod along with her sisters. Understandable, considering at the last 'Capture the Flag', he had broken her arm, and thrown her sister's into trees before electrocuting them into unconsciousness.

"I guess," he shrugged, tapping his fingers on the table in a rhythm, before pulling out a couple of fangs from his bag. "Was clearing out a basilisk infestation nearby, and I decided to get my lunch here. Or is eating in the same cafe a blunder now, Huntress?"

"Nay, it is not," she declared, subtly raising a finger to silence a couple of girls on her right, who had been rising to answer that question in a way she'd rather not deal with right now. It had been months since she had seen the Son of Zeus, as the boy had been gone to Britain for some reason according to the camp's gossip she had overheard. And she was in no mood to re-invite his father's ire after he had ended their recruitment ban prematurely on account of their good conduct and Lady Athena's advice.

"Damn, I remember her," the boy muttered, and Zoe followed his eyes to see the headlines moving across the screen, the woman Zeus had seeded twice appearing on the channel for but a moment before they switched over to sports coverage, "Berry, Berty…Beryl! Yep, she was on the news years ago too, for the same reason…how hard is it to get a condom woman?"

Cringing visibly at that statement, Zoe stared at the demigod out of the corner of her eyes as his order arrived, and the former Hesperide shuddered at the disgusting imagery his words had conjured, "Must thou be so crass?" she muttered, almost gagging as she wondered just what the boy would say if he knew who the father was—both of the times.

"How is the Hunt?" He asked in turn, ignoring her comment as he leaned back in his seat, dropping the fangs in his bag, "I heard the ban on you guys was lifted."

"The Skyfather did see it fit to restore the Hunt to its numbers with all possible haste," she answered, as surprised by the civil conversation this seemed to be developing into as the rest of her sisters. "We are too mighty a force to lie back in weakness, and the monsters have grown in strength and numbers."

"I wouldn't know, they all still die in a single strike," he chuckled, swirling his finger above the cup, and to her amazement, the spoon inside began to follow. The boy had telekinesis? Even some minor gods struggled with such a task, and yet here he was. A boy of twelve capable of manipulating physical forces. In front of her, the silently staring Phoebe too gaped for a moment. Both of them were thousands of years old, having followed Artemis since the days of Ancient Greece—and Zoe was even older, having been born to Atlas when Othrys had still stood as a bastion of the Crooked One. Giving her a look, the boy's lips spread into a smirk and he leaned forwards. "Besides, you would know better about that, wouldn't you? Daughter of the Titan of strength and endurance."

"How dost thou know that?" she glared at him, and it was only the fact that they were with other Hunters at the moment that stopped her from showing her displeasure and anger more…vividly. In front of her, Phoebe quietly hid their conversation with the mist, knowing that even though the Hunt was her family, there were some secrets that she didn't want to go beyond a certain circle.

"There was a scroll in the Zeus cabin," the boy rolled his eyes. "It was a decree from my father, commanding Hercules, and the later demigods of his, to not antagonize the Lady Artemis, or her Hunters…and stay clear from Zoe, the banished daughter of the Skyholder. Not everything has to be some secretive, hyper-imaginative scheme Nightshade. I was just making idle conversation, since for once, we are able to do it without our weapons in hand and cursing each other."

"That almost sounds wise," Phoebe remarked, entering the conversation and glaring at Evans at the same time, "and why do you want to make conversation with us in the first place? Don't you have other girls at the camp to…talk to?! Leave the Hunt alone boy. Did we ask for your company? Yet here you sit, forcing a conversation and talking about things that are no business of yours."

"Damn woman," the boy muttered, lightning flashing through his eyes as he glared at Phoebe right back, all of his relaxed countenance gone in an instant as he clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking audibly in a threat as clear as the day outside. "If I didn't know better, I would have assumed that I killed your pet wolves or something with how petty you are being. The one time we somehow seem to not be at each other's throats without the campers of the Hunters picking each other's faults, you somehow find it impossible to keep quiet."

"Everyone knows what kind of lecher you are, Evans," she scoffed back, "Don't try your luck here boy, or son of the King or not, we and Lady Artemis won't hesitate to teach you your place."

"Try it bitch!" he snarled back, and Phoebe seemed ready to skewer the boy with her knives as she leaped up from her seat.

"Enough," she shouted furiously, grabbing her sister's hand and pushing her back into her seat, while she glared at the demigod, her eyes flicking to the sword that had materialized in his hand. "Keep your weapons inside. I'd rather not explain to Lady Artemis why a mortal establishment was destroyed."

"It's his fault," she scoffed, pointing her silver knives at Evans, "if she were here, she would herself turn him into an animal and send the wolves after him for the sheer audacity of sitting in the same place as us."

"So maybe the next time a Hydra or something like that attacks, maybe I should just stay put when it is devouring you Hunters like nuggets?" the boy snarled, and thunder rumbled overhead as his anger bled into the sky above. "Getting attacked or molested by a couple of men centuries ago doesn't give the moral high ground to judge everyone and act better than them, Huntress! Shit happened, get over it. A thief tried to take advantage of you, and Lady Artemis killed him. He has been six feet under for two thousand years—Bury him."

The next moment, every window in the diner shattered as Phoebe's fist cracked across the demigod's face, sending him careening through the panes behind him. As the veil of the daughter of Ares had created broke, every Hunter jumped to their feet at the sight of their Lieutenant jumping to her feet, while the second in command was already halfway across the street, kicking the son of Zeus into the air. A split second later, every Huntress bar her was shouting and clamoring for Evans' head, and knives were drawn as they all jumped towards Phoebe and him, where the former was continuously punching and striking him, shaking the land beneath them with every hit.

Blinding the mortals by drawing upon the mist, she sent a prayer to Lady Artemis, staring at the sight of Phoebe punching the demigod on his face worriedly. This, this is what she had been afraid of when Evans had sat down. Now her only hope was to stop this before the Son of Zeus began to fight back in earnest, because as confident as she was in Phoebe's abilities…she was much more worried for the rest of the Hunt, who had already drawn arrows and were looking for an opportunity to fight.

That hope was shattered a moment later as Phoebe slammed the boy into the ground, the ground shaking beneath her with a rumble…and so did the darkening heavens above.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form.

AN-1: a really big break this time, but I had a bad case of writer's block, University exams, and college at the same time.

AN-2: If you wish to, you can read the NEXT SEVEN CHAPTERS right now on my Linktree.

"It has been many years since we last sparred," Artemis admitted as they stopped for a brief moment, her auburn hair whipping in the air from the force created by their knives clashing together, an intense look in her silver eyes. "You are still playing defensive."

"It is not playing Artemis," her older sister—half, but semantics hardly mattered when the Olympians were concerned—said, suddenly relaxing her arms. With the force she had been exerting to keep Athena's arms at bay, the Huntress faltered forwards, inertia carrying her past the deadlock for just a nanosecond. In a blur, Athena's fist shot past her guard, aiming to bury itself in her sternum. However, Artemis wasn't deterred in the slightest, as with the flexibility of a snake, she managed to twist her torso enough to make the attack just brush past her chest. But, Athena wasn't known as a Goddess of War for no reason, as before her very eyes, her sister's fingers turned just enough for the knife to turn towards her. It left a shallow scratch on her breastplate. "That could have ripped your chest open. You have become complacent, Artemis. Fighting monsters has made you forget what it means to fight someone like you."

"You speak as if there is a war coming," she rolled her eyes, disengaging her wrists from Athena's as her knives vanished, their armor replaced by togas clasped at their shoulders. "Is this about the Great Prophecy?"

"The monsters grow stronger and more numerous," Athena frowned, and she agreed with her sister silently as a nymph brought forward pitchers of lemonade. Taking the proffered glass, she sighed at the cool liquid traveling down her throat, her sister drinking hers quietly for a moment before she continued. "While I find it highly improbable, it is never a bad thing to prepare for every eventuality. Not with two of them roaming the Earth."

"They are going to cause some havoc, but I doubt it will ever be on Olympus' doors," she shook her head, silently filing away that Athena didn't seem to know about Jupiter's son yet, and remembering the scores of demigods her father had spawned across the ages. Even Perseus and Hercules, the most powerful of them all, hadn't been anything she would even remotely put close to gods, or at least, not until her father had made the latter into one. Even Dionysus, an Olympian, was by far the weakest of them in raw power, owing to his human origins. "I doubt it will ever matter beyond the mortal world's destruction."

"Hubris is unbecoming of you O Huntress," Athena raised a sculpted eyebrow, her blonde mane flowing in a sudden draft as she looked at the clouds above, the throne room hidden behind the mists. "Even the Titans were brought low by the unlikeliest of chances, and it was their hubris and disregard of danger that led to it. We should learn from the mistakes committed by others, and eliminate any chances of them being repeated."

"You speak as if w-Phoebe?" she trailed off, feeling her connection to her handmaiden pulse, the faint emotions she could feel through the bond between them turning from growing amusement to burning irritation within an eyeblink. It wasn't out of norm for her oldest demigod Huntress to be irritated—it was the best behavior one could expect from Ares' children normally, but what was perplexing was the…relief and bewilderment she could feel from Zoe.

The next moment, Phoebe's emotions turned into the raging fires of Hades, her emotions intense enough that even Artemis felt her eyes widen. Dampening the incoming flux of emotions as she felt Zoe's confusion turn into alarm and worry, Artemis looked in the direction of the Camp, where her Hunt was resting for now. Deigning it to be nothing more than a scuffle with some camper, the Huntress turned towards Athena, muffling her connection to her Hunters for the moment. "Father's decree doesn't seem to be having any effect on the animosity between the campers and the Hunters."

"It is a two-sided affair," she shook her head as they moved out of the arena, and Artemis wrinkled her nose as she caught sight of a nymph pulling someone towards the bath spaces, "it is futile to hope for the competition and the aggression behind it to die down without a common thing to aim it at. Until then, Father's way of at least avoiding bloodshed and keeping it periodically sated through this game is the only solution I see—beyond actually enforcing punishments of course. Why do you bring it up now?"

"My Hunters are excited and angry at the same time," she explained, "most probably someone from the camp said something and now Chiro-"

"The camp is completely quiet, Artemis," Athena interrupted her, tilting her head slightly as her eyes lost focus for just a second. "Everything is fine with the demigods. Whatever your Hunters are doing, it doesn't involve the demigods."

'O Goddess, I beseech thy presence. Things are getting out of hand.' Zoe's voice echoed in her head, a pulse of…fear passing through the bond between her and the Titaness. And that stopped her short, her hand freezing on its way to pluck a flower. Zoe was never afraid, not unless the rest of her Hunters were in fatal danger.

'Zoe, what is it?' She thought back, frowning as she reached out to her Hunters, feeling several of them draw on her Blessing more deeply as if they were fighting a herd of monsters, 'is the-'

'Phoebe and Evans came to blows,' her Lieutenant interrupted her, pushing an image of Phoebe's fist impacting the demigod's face through their connection, 'the Hunters jumped in to attack him the next moment, and my lady…I feel he is ab-Great Hera!'

'Zoe?ZOE!' Artemis shouted through the link, feeling Zoe close off from their shared mind space. Frowning, she turned towards the Camp's direction, eyes glowing a faint white as she flashed away to her Hunters, or at least, attempted to. Athena's hand landed on her shoulder softly, and she glared at the Wisdom Goddess, "What is the meaning of this Athena?"

"You realize you can't physically interfere in their altercation, right?"

"I will do whatever it takes to protect my Hunters!" She whispered furiously, wrenching her shoulder away from her hand, her form glowing molten silver, as she summoned her bow to her hands, intent on stopping her father's spa-

"Remember Father's directions, Artemis."

Fuck being civil.

This was his only thought as Harry felt his face break through asphalt, feeling the ground splinter beneath him like a clay pot as the daughter of Ares kicked his skull deeper into the Earth. It had probably been just a minute since she had first punched him, and with her attention lifted from the veil of mist, the other Hunters were quick to notice the commotion—hard not to, a part of him thought sardonically, what with the whole diner shattering from the force of the Huntress' attack.

And now, they were quick to draw their arrows and unsheathe their weapons at the perceived slight he had performed against their second-in-command. He could hear their jeers and threats, muffled behind the ringing in his ears as he felt Phoebe remove her foot from his head. Behind them all, he heard Zoe curse and shout for order, warning the Huntresses not to attack him.

"How dare you?" the one above him growled, leaning down to pull him up by the back of his neck, and Harry blinked his eyes open as he stared at the furious Huntress, who seemed to be frothing at the mouth with all that anger in her eyes and expression, the air around her burning hotter and hotter as a red aura seemed to manifest upon her, a crimson shade coming over her irises, "You…ignorant, arrogant, foolish child!"

"Ve-Very easily," he answered, the cobwebs in his mind drifting away as the clarity born of a demigod's blood and battles came over him. Anger and pride both surged through his veins along with adrenaline, and Harry raised his palm towards the daughter of Ares, a wandless banisher leaving his hand. The woman obviously felt some sort of danger, as she began to swerve to the side while dropping him. But it was too late.

His feet touched the ground as Phoebe flew away from him, spinning through the air from the force of his magic as he glared at her. Pulling upon his magic, Harry summoned his wand to his hand and raised a shield in front of him, blocking the arrows as he looked at the dozens of Huntresses before him, several of them staring at the barrier between them with shock. However, while he wasn't showing it, Harry was too left gobsmacked by the sheer amount of damage those arrows had dealt to his shield. A moment later, his confusion cleared up as he saw the bronze tint on the arrowheads by his feet. Of course, the magical nature of celestial bronze was going to make these things quite a lot more powerful than the mundane ones.

Magic wasn't going to help him much here—or at least, not the magic he knew now, he realized with a grimace. Once again reaffirming his decision to learn and better himself at offensive and defensive magics, Harry snapped his wand back into its holster as he manifested his sword. Well, he needed to shake the rust off anyways. Taking a step forwards, he blurred into motion, punching the nearest Huntress in her chest before she could even realize what had happened, the daughter of Apollo launching backward into another girl with a shout. Twisting around, he parried a slash from an enraged Phoebe, the daughter of Ares back on her feet once more as the crimson around her skin burned even brighter, and Harry grunted as he found his arms stunned from the impact.

Incinerating a couple of arrows with a flex of his wrist, he backed away from the huntress, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zoe shout at the hunters on his right, commanding them to lower their bows.

Well, at least someone had a working brain between their ears. Though, he couldn't expect anything else from Ares' children. Blocking a head-on attack with a grunt of exertion, Harry felt his feet slide back on the asphalt, the skin on his fingers seeming to slowly roast as the Huntress returned with a vengeance, face twisted in a hateful snarl as her sword was met by his. Half a dozen arrows came whistling through the air towards him, and he smirked at the baleful eyes before him as he twisted the very air around them, shattering and splintering the shafts.

"I am not a run-of-a-mill human or some lowly demigod you and your Goddess may have bullied and hunted over the years," he grit his teeth, pulling on his strength as he felt his muscles strain to the extreme, his bones feeling as if they were grinding against each other inside his arms as he pushed her back for a moment with a heave. "I am the son of Zeus, and you…you are nothing!"

With that statement, Harry pulled upon the clouds, his demigod powers practically purring at being used again as the heavens obeyed his will, the sparks of power in the skies above turning into a raging bolt of energy. The world glowed blue as the energy dropped, and he heard the beginnings of the Hunters' scream as the crack of thunder drowned their voices. Slashing at Phoebe's hastily put up guard, Harry slid his xiphos down the length of the blade, locking it with her at the crossguard, and he grabbed her other hand with his, using every bit of his strength to prevent her from moving away as he grinned at her.

"That is enough."

And just like that, the bolt right above their heads was absorbed by a silver bubble, five hundred million volts of energy vanishing into nothingness as the screams of the Hunters echoed in the now empty block. Frowning as he looked up, Harry reached out with his powers towards the sky, confirming whether his attack had indeed vanished, or was it some elaborate illusion from the Hunt's witches. However, his attention was drawn by the Hunt as they instantly snapped into attention, looking serious yet somehow smug at the same time, some of them giving him those arrogant, now you are fucked looks as Zoe sighed with relief, pulling up the girl he had punched. Before him, Phoebe took a short, sharp breath as she closed her eyes, her hands still holding up her sword as the crimson around her died down, and now that things were calm—or at least, appearing to be, he saw how she visibly lost some of the definition and muscles mass on her arms and the parts of her legs that were visible, the very veins bulging out on her skin swelling down.

"My Goddess," Zoe breathed silently, and a hush fell over his ears as Harry looked behind him, the hairs on his neck standing up in alarm, all of his instincts screaming at him to sheathe his blade. To bend his knees. To look down at the ground in supplication and awe as the Light of Olympus, the Diamond of the Heavens walked before him. A warmth began to grow upon his back, and Harry saw the silver light radiated by the Huntress, reflected in Phoebe's eyes as she stared behind him.

"Remove your hand from her, now."

That wasn't phrased as a request.

Slowly uncurling his fingers from around the huntress' wrist, Harry brought his left hand down by his side, and that seemed to signal something to the daughter of Ares, as her sword retracted in segments, before shifting around to form the vambrace around her forearm. In return, he too willed his blade to diminish, feeling the weight of the ring settled upon his finger as he turned around, laying his eyes upon Artemis for the first time. Besides the fiery, liquid silver irises and the rich, autumn-hued hair, all Harry saw was a twelve-year-old girl before him, dressed in the customary silver clothing of the Hunt.

Physically, that was.

On the metaphysical, it felt as if he was staring into the cold, barren landscape of the moon itself, the very air around the Goddess seeming to leech the warmth out of it. How this entity also personified nature and childbirth, Harry would never know. But still, Chiron had hammered the etiquettes and the manners one was expected to show when in an audience with a god, and he was nothing if a dutiful student. Kneeling down on one knee, he lowered his head and put one arm on his raised knee, the other by his side, "Lady Artemis, the Huntress. It is an honor to be greeted by your presence."

"My Lady," Zoe walked closer, giving him a look as she passed him before coming to a stop by Artemis' left, "Ella is fine, just two cracked ribs and a broken wrist. The rest of the Hunters are completely unscathed."

"Not for the lack of trying on his part," the Goddess responded, her face more expressionless than the statues the mortals carved in her name as she took a step forward. For a single moment that stretched on for a dozen, Harry saw her sandaled limb inch closer and closer to the splintered road, a premonition of sorts coming over him. The intuition, the instinct that came with the divinity that flowed inside them all. And even though every fiber of it screamed at him to run, to hide, to somehow make the entity before him not grind him into paste…Harry was as powerless as Callisto had been.

Artemis' foot touched the ground, and Harry felt his shoulders creak as a weight descended upon his body, a crushing force that threatened to freeze him from the inside, yet burn his body from the outside like he was in a superheated oven. And if that wasn't enough, Artemis' seemed to actually revel in the pain she was causing him, her gigantic, ancient existence pressing upon his mind as her energy pressed upon his body like a tangible weight. He had felt his father's power before, and he had even felt the freezing storms that were Taranis' domain threaten to swallow him, but never had he experienced a god's wrath focused upon him.

"You come to sup near my hunters."

His head slowly lowered inch by inch, his neck feeling like it might snap any moment under the power of the Moon goddess as she took a step closer, the sound of her sandal moving against the rubble excruciatingly slow and loud in his ears.

"You dare to talk about things that are unspoken and unheard for centuries."

One of his ears bled, and soon the other did too as he felt his hearing go out, warm blood trickling down his neck only to dry up under the heat around him as he saw his nose run red, a drop of blood falling to the ground before his eyes.

"You have the impertinence to talk about my hunter's past, and advise her on…Burying something?"

His head slammed into the ground, followed by his whole body as pressure upon his back increased twofold, and Harry groaned silently as he felt the cracked rib shift dangerously inside him, his chest feeling like it may implode upon itself any moment. His eyes dilated, and his breath turned shallower as he felt the air inside him leave his lungs, even twitching his fingers became an impossible task for him as he felt the burn in his very blood, the ensuing silence making his suffering somehow even more painful for him.

"My Lady," Zoe began softly, looking at Evans with critical eyes as she approached Artemis, giving Phoebe a mild glare as she saw the daughter of Ares stare at the slowly stilling demigod with satisfaction in her eyes, "He is to die. Yet, I beseech thee to recall his past deeds of valor, wherein he didst save our huntresses at the camp when the Hydra and other fell beasts assailed us. Stay thy wrath, O Goddess."

"You speak truly," Artemis' answer was but a whisper, and yet, in the harrowing silence, it was as loud as any shout could be, "Very well, I shan't punish him further, but he is still going to remember his folly of insulting Phoebe."

"She was not without blame, my lady," Zoe uttered the words quietly, her voice low enough that none but Artemis may hear it, and the Titaness saw how her Goddess' jaw tightened at the words, the bond between them pulsing with anger yet curiosity, "The boy did utter those words, but only when Phoebe persisted in needlessly remarking upon his choice to sit in the same diner as we, and called him a lecher, and threatened him with how thou wouldst have punished him for it. His words were cruel, yet it was Phoebe who first raised hands and endangered our sisters as well as the mortals. Even I cannot fault him for desiring a meal, and he only gave a greeting as an interaction."

However, before Zoe could even fathom Artemis' response, Phoebe gasped, falling to her knees before them, only for a hand to catch her by her midriff, propping up the woman and conjuring a chair for her in one smooth motion.

"Listen to her, dear sister. After all, it isn't their fault they decided to indulge themselves. Were we not as eager to throw hands when we were but children?" the man chuckled, standing tall and powerful as he looked at the woman before him. "Daughter mine, have you not learned your lesson yet? Pulling upon the Blessing so much, and just for what? A backyard scuffle? Were your own fists and feet insufficient for the task of teaching the boy centuries younger a lesson?"

"Forgive me," Phoebe gasped out, her face pale as she wiped her lips, staring up at the towering figure with reverence and fear in equal measure, "Father."

"Are the Hunters not learning manners these days?" the God of War called out as he shifted slightly, his crimson mane flowing as he stared down at the Hunters before him, "At least the boy had the grace to kneel before Artemis when she appeared, and yet the paragon of virtue and civilized existence stand in open slight against a God? Kneel."

Reminiscent of how Artemis had inflicted her powers upon Evans to make him grovel, Ares' presence too descended upon them, cloaked as it was by the bounds of their sealed forms. It wasn't a show of force like her Lady had intended hers to be, but it was just as oppressive in its own way, and Zoe shuddered as she felt the heat, the sickness, the unsavory smells and sights of war invade her senses as the Hunters all kneeled instantly, the younger ones quickly losing their awe at meeting the God as they barely controlled their stomachs.

"Ares, cease your actions this instant," Artemis growled, alleviating the pressure on the Huntresses' bodies and souls as she batted away the War god's presence with a flex of her own power, keeping the dark, burning aura at bay with the soothing feel of a flower's caress, "Don't forget your limits, and certainly not the fact that the Hunters are my handmaidens. This is your first and the last warning."

"Brat," the god laughed loudly, turning around finally to look at the auburn-haired goddess, who shifted her form to match him in age, his eyes staring down the two women before he looked down at Evans' downed form, "You kill a few monsters, chop off a few cocks, bully a hundred demigods, and think you are hot shit. Athena is falsely called out on her hubris Artemis, for never have I seen an immortal as drowned in their own arrogance and importance as you. You fought Apollo, and lost, and it took you a century to recover. Do you think you have a chance against me? Go and fight some hellhounds Artemis, and don't wallow in the delusion these mortals have created of you being some ultimate warrior goddess of Olympus."

"Yo-"

"Yeah, yeah me," Ares cut in with a roll of his fiery orange eyes, waving off a seething Artemis casually as he kneeled by Evans, "But that's not what I was here for anyways. I needed to have a chat with our half-brother…and well, my control slipped."

"It was thou who didst meddle with the emotions of Phoebe and Evans," Zoe realized, eyes widening as she stared at the War god, "For what? To make them fight and bring injury upon the Hunters? Thou wouldst have known that, save for a few, none of the Hunters can stand against Evans."

"What I did, I did for reasons that are none of your concern, Lieutenant," Ares answered, grabbing Evans by the back of his tattered shirt and pulling him up as he stood on his feet, staring at the blood stuck on his front, as well as the snapped shoulder with a critical eye, "and you have the balls to call me a savage sadist. Anyways, I will be taking him off your hands Artemis, enjoy your virgin feminist movement."

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form.

AN-1: The next year is gonna be a wonky ride as college comes to an end and I get started on projects. Already have one done though, so fingers crossed for the ML one.

AN-2: If you wish to, you can read the NEXT SEVEN CHAPTERS right now on my Linktree.

"Wake up, brat," a foot nudged him in his ribs as the unknown voice chuckled, and Harry instantly jumped to his feet, his sword stabbing towards the man's voice at the height of where he judged his throat to be, while his other hand raised upwards to send forth a storm of crackling electricity. However, just a moment before his xiphos could fully manifest, a hand clamped down on his wrist, stopping it in its place, while the hand that had been poised to burn the unknown man alive was slapped away as if it was an errant fly, trees and stones being blasted to bits by the explosion of power that happened, "…those are grounds enough for me to skewer you, you know? You just challenged a God."

"Oh fuck," he breathed, his eyes moving upwards, catching sight of the massive hand that was gripping his wrist, following the muscled arm towards the broad shoulders, before he met the baleful orange eyes staring down at him with amusement. His senses burned with the power of the deity before him, his nose assaulted viciously by the smell of blood and rotting, burning flesh. For a split second, the land around him shifted to naught but mountains of corpses and mudpools of blood, as the War God's presence bore down upon his mind much like Artemis' had scant moments ago, "Lord Ares."

"That seems the right enough reaction for me to forgive that attack, Harry Evans," Ares's voice rumbled as he released his wrist, a casual smirk on his lips. He instantly dropped to his knees, bringing his fist by his heart as he stared at the ground, finally realizing that his injuries from the encounter with Artemis and Phoebe were completely healed. Based on what he could perceive, they were in the woods behind the camp, removed from the Huntress and her maidens' presence. Ares' presence abated from actively pressing down upon his mind, and the God took a step back, "You can stand up now."

"Yes, milord," he answered, standing straight and meeting the Olympian's eyes for a moment, before he looked in the direction where he could feel the Huntresses, still gathered, "You saved me from Lady Artemis."

"I did," the giant man laughed, conjuring a throne for himself to sit upon. "It's been a while since someone had the balls to actually challenge her little bitches like this. Though, if it were anyone, I should have known it would be a Son of Zeus. And it helped me get my daughter's head back on track, at least for a while, so there is that."

"But why?" He asked, confusion on his face as he rolled his shoulder, feeling a stab of pain from when it had been dislocated by Artemis' power just minutes ago. "Why would you int-"

"Interfere with my sister's playtime as she breaks you into pieces?" The god raised an eyebrow, conjuring a sharp, curved knife in his hands. "There are many reasons, but none that concern you. For now, just know that I have a…small problem that I need taken care of. And I have decided to select you for the role."

"Forgive my curiosity, milord," Harry shook his head, "But why not one of your own children? Devin is just as skilled at arms as I am, probably even more."

"As I said, my reasons are my own," Ares intoned calmly, flinging the knife towards him, and Harry stood still as he saw the wickedly sharp blade cut through the air, feeling it pass by his ear before it embedded itself in the trunk behind him. "Carlos has stolen one of my weapons from my armory despite my command for him to return it, and has killed a Son of Hermes, as well a daughter of Hephaestus in the last week. Kill him, retrieve my weapon, and bring me his head on a pike."

Fuck this quest, that was the only thought going through his head. In the start, he had decided to use the Point-Me charm taught to him at Hogwarts, but evidently, demigods were somewhat impervious to mortal magic. Or the divinity inside them interfered with the working of the wizard's magic, making it impossible for him to pinpoint Carlos' direction, his wand spinning randomly in the air before him.

However, Tyche must have been smiling down upon him, as Chiron was able to provide him with the information of where exactly the son of Ares had last been, from where a passing satyr had brought the bodies of the demigods killed by him. And now, as he stood in the small clearing with the hellhounds withering away in golden dust by his feet, Harry looked down at the ground around him, spotting the shine of metal amongst the fallen leaves and dirt. Kneeling down and parting the leaves, Harry grabbed the celestial bronze knife, the seal of Hephaestus glittering upon its crossguard. Closing his eyes momentarily, he remembered Diana and how she had taught him how to wield an axe. Harry picked it up, his eyes staring at the blood upon its handle and crimson on its edge.

Years ago, when Chiron had just begun his instruction on how the lives of demigods went, he had never mentioned that one day, Harry would have to take the lives of demigods themselves. It was only supposed to be monsters.

Demigods were family. They were good.

And that is why, Ares' quest had become a personal matter for him. For some reason, Carlos' deeds had shaken his whole viewpoint in a way. The deaths of two demigods might not be a big thing in the grand scheme for him, especially since he had lost friends a lot closer than the ones that died here…but they had never been betrayed.

Closing his fist around the axe, Harry took a deep breath and looked around himself silently. Tracking Carlos like this was going to be hard, with no clues on his whereabouts. The satyr that had found the bodies of Diana and James, had done so far after they had gone cold, and Carlos would have been long gone by then.

That had been four days ago.

In these four days, Carlos could have walked acr-wait. His eyes lowered to the axe in his hands, and he looked at the dried blood on its edge. Carlos was a son of Ares. he had a demigod's healing factor, but nothing on the level that the children of Apollo, or he himself possessed. With an injury, and hopefully multiple—caused by celestial bronze, it was going to take him a while to be at one hundred percent. Chances were, he would have gone to the nearest city to get himself patched up first, and the one nearest to Wayne National Forest was…Lancaster, Harry noted, opening the map and scanning the state he was in.

Whispering a prayer in Hephaestus' name to the spirits, Harry felt the axe vanish from his hands as he looked northwest, beginning his walk towards the city. An hour and a dozen scared animals later, Harry arrived at Lancaster properly. Walking through the rained-upon streets, he sighed and breathed in the smell of the rain and dirt, feeling the Sylphs in the sky above float through the aether. Now, to find a clinic or a place where Carlos would have gone to get himself patched up.

Heading towards the center of the town, Harry smiled as he saw two kids run by him, the balloons in one's hands sliding across his face as their giggles echoed in the street, just before he saw who appeared to be their mother run around the corner. Seeing her sigh loudly as she took a deep breath while leaning on her knees, Harry turned his face away as her eyes met his, hearing her jog past him a moment later. It was kind of surreal, to see a couple of happy children, and that too with their mother.

At the camp, the demigods were happy—most of the time, at least, he thought ironically, considering the task the God of War had given him. They had the best food on the planet, and the best drinks, and they had adventures out of myth. But parents? That was a dream for probably more than eighty percent of the campers. More so with most being single parents and running out on a super-powered, divinely juiced-up kid that could attract monsters before it could say a full sentence. Hell, some of the campers had stories of how the monsters that had been coming for them, had instead killed their parents in front of their eyes.

And if that didn't happen by the age of seven or eight, well, the dyslexia and ADHD kicked in overtime, leading to poor performances in schools, teasing, and bullying from classmates. That in turn, caused them to be singled out, without any friends, and the ever-increasing monster occurrences also added to that, leading to incidents that usually resulted in termination from the schools.

He had at least been lucky in that regard, having never had to experience monster attacks in Surrey—which was now explained by the absence of Celtic monsters in the Dagda's lands, and the fact that the Greeks had no influence there. The fact that mortal magic ran through his body as well had somehow prevented his dyslexia from surfacing, and even the restlessness, or the hyperactivity that came with being a demigod was absent in him, or at least, tempered down to manageable levels.

"Stephens Clinic and Meds," he muttered, staring at the board before him, following the arrow upon it to look to his right, finding the said clinic and chemist shop. It seemed the shutter had just been lifted, an old man still arranging the boxes upon the shelves. Sighing a little, Harry adjusted his bag and moved towards the man, closing his eyes for a moment as he saw the chemist bang his face into an open shelf, "Here is to hoping he hasn't got dementia. Hey, Dr. Stephens?"

"Hmm? Who-wait, you are not another tourist hurt in the forest are you?" The man blinked, turning towards him slowly, his grey eyes somehow still sharp adn focused despite his frail appearance. "Though I don't see any blood. Well, spit it out lad, what is it you want? I ain't gonna take someone for part-time if that's what you are here for!"

"No, not really," he shook his head, holding up a photo of the demigod he was after, "This is Carlos, my cousin. Did he stop by within the last two-three days, we were camping in the Park and got separated, and I saw signs that he was injured."

"Carlos? Hmm, yeah, the kid dropped by two-three days ago, all right," the man nodded, frowning as he leaned forwards to rest his arms on the desk, "Had a bad gash on his side, adn seemed to be in a lot of hurry. I sewed up the injury, and gave him a few painkillers. Wanted to call the cops, but then I…forgot? Dam-"

"Where was he going, if you know it Dr. Stephens?" He interrupted, molding the wrist around the aged man's mind, ready to confound him into forgetting this conversation as well. "Did he mention a location or a person?"

"Uh, he hasn't gone anywhere kid," the Doctor shook his head, turning around to return to his shelves as he waved a hand towards the center of the town. "Just saw him yesterday, dancing with some young lass at the bar. Your cousin is probably still there, shitfaced and vomiting with how much he was drinking."

"Thanks for that, Doctor," Harry smiled, snapping the mist around the old man's mind, making him forget the conversation, and Carlos himself as he turned around, intent on finding the bar as soon as possible. And he would need to draw Carlos out of the town too. While he didn't care much for the muggles, he wasn't bent on needlessly causing their deaths either. Plus, Hestia would not like it, and that was enough for him.

A whisper echoed in his dream, as Carlos found himself staring at the growling Cerberus before him, all three of its heads staring at the giant eagle, and the pristine white pegasus before it. Shadows danced around the great Guardian of the Underworld, while at the same time, lightning crackled in the Eagle's feathers, and powerful, dark water swirled at the Pegasus' feet.

Hades, Zeus and Poseidon. The three Elder Gods.

Who seemed to be locked in a perpetual, cold war, a stalemate of sorts. At their feet, ants of various colors were spawning and turning to ash at the same time. Once in a while, a bigger one would appear, coated in one of the three powers the avatars of the Big Three were, and rampage around amongst the ants, crushing and destroying hundreds. At the edge of the greyish nothingness around him, Carlos could see other animals, each one stranger than the rest.

A cat and a crocodile were on his right, and to his left, were a bull and a cow. A little ways behind him, was some kind of winged reptile, and by them was a large deer. Amongst the faint light being given off by these specters, the Son of Ares could see other phantoms, but each was more indistinct than the last, and soon, his attention was grabbed by the gaping maw that opened in the shadowy earth before him.

'Belligerent, foolish, arrogant,' the whisper surrounded him again, the voice frail and weak, like a dying old man in his last words, but yet, Carlos found himself frozen in place, staring at the bottomless pit before him, a faint golden glow in its dark, spaceless depths capturing his eyes, 'They trample over everything like unruly children, spawning more and more of their own to destroy the beautiful world we created. Destroying everything they touch and breathe at, throwing away their children like pikes at each other. Poisoning the humans, and the world with their cruelty and curses. Making them fight the monsters, and live their lives in fear inside that prison they call a house, all in their name. Sending you on quests that see you dead, just to glorify their own deeds.'

"Who are you?" He whispered, feeling a sharp, cold sensation at the base of his neck, the words spoken reminding him of his own time before he was brought to the camp. His mother had gotten pregnant when she was nineteen, and by the time he was four, she had already lapsed into drugs and alcohol. She cursed him for all her misfortune, blaming him for Ares not returning to her. And since he had been aware of his divine blood, the scent of a demigod over him grew stronger each month, inciting more and more monster attacks.

And just like that, one evening, he had found his mother torn apart by a pair of Laestrygonians, her head crushed in front of him as they squabbled over her remaining body. Five minutes later, standing there in the mix of his mother's blood and the monster's disappearing remains, Carlos had felt the presence of the father he had never known, guiding him towards a life of a demigod proper.

'See? And there are dozens like you, with your godly parents uncaring, ignorant of you till they want some entertainment, some new specimen to torture with their games,' the whisper returned, the numbing cold on his neck shifting and coiling around his shoulders like some serpent, but yet, beneath his skin, in the depths of his heart, Carlos felt a warmth like he had not felt in five days, when he had last held Diana's dying body in his arms. 'Even demigods like her, slaves to the Gods' will, stand in the way of your happiness. Did she not leave you to spend the night with that man? Slandering and spitting on your love, naught but a few paces away from you, as if you didn't even matter. Who do you think encouraged her boy? The Blacksmith hates your father, and you were nothing but a sacrifice to his joy, to bring Ares shame in their eternal rivalry, as he used his daughter as a tool to make you weep.'

Unbidden, the memories returned to him. Of waking up the night, devoid of Diana's presence by his side, a moment later, feeling the vibrations in the ground. The kind he was intimately familiar with, as a terrible thought wormed its way into his mind. Coming out of his tent, Carlos had been met with a scene that he had never thought he would have to see.

Diana, his girlfriend of two years…making out with James as she bounced on his lap. His eyes traced their way up their legs, taking in the sight of the juices running down the Son of Hermes' limbs, Diana's ass rolling on his thighs as she stuck her tongue down his throat, his hands clutching at her back and hair, while they moaned and rutted like beasts.

The next moment, his vision went red as Carlos felt a fire devour his very soul, anger the likes of which he had never experienced coming over him. He had just felt his body move, his hand grabbing Diana's neck before pulling her off James, while his other had punched the boy right on his nose with his full strength. Launching his cheating whore of a girlfriend into the boulder by his tent, Carlos had jumped over James before the boy could right himself, striking him in the temple to send him crashing back first into the ground. After that, it had been nothing but a bloodbath, with him throwing away the bitch to climb over the dazed son of Hermes, his fist thundering down on his face with all the power his body had to offer.

Unfortunately for the cunt, it was a lot more than the feeble demigod could handle.

His hands had crushed through the skin and bone within moments, with nothing but brains and blood exploding upwards on his face as he turned James' face into nothing but mush, his one single remaining eye staring up at him as Carlos silently wrecked every single inch of his head into paste. The curtain of red before his eyes had lifted when his instincts had screamed at him to move out of the way of something coming at his back, and he had dodged to the side, but still, it had not been enough to escape Diana's axe, as it bit into his side and carved through his flesh.

However, while Diana was strong, and a capable fighter, she had still been unbalanced due to her recent fucking, the shock of Carlos throwing her headfirst into a boulder—and on top of that, seeing him punch James' head into nothingness, with the son of Hermes somehow still twitching on the ground at his feet. Against an awakened Carlos though? That was enough. His vambrace turned into his xiphos as he stabbed his hand forwards, but surprisingly, Diana had been fast enough to deflect it by bringing her axe upwards. However, what she didn't see was the dagger in his other hand that sliced across her forearm, opening it up in a spurt of blood.

As the axe fell from her hands, Carlos brought his sword arm back in a vicious slice, staring into her widening eyes, the moment stretching into years for him as he had stared at every inch of the dusky skin, every strand of the matted hair, every drop of sweat on her face, and each fleck of gold in her brown eye.

The next moment, his sword had bit into her flesh, carving her chest open from shoulder to navel, and he had felt her arms somehow wind up around his neck. His xiph-

'Wake up, demigod' his thoughts shattered to once again reveal the formless void he had been standing in, only this time, there were no animalistic avatars of the Gods around him. It was just him, and the presence in the hole. 'The abomination approaches you. Wake up, Run! Run towards the shadows!'

A moment later, Carlos snapped his eyes open as he felt a weight on his stomach, and his eyes widened as he saw the ornate, black knife on his bandaged abdomen, the blade dangerously close to the naked thigh slung across his frame. Carefully moving the knife to the side, he raked his eyes over the long legs over him, sloping over the curve of the girl's tits before alighting on her slightly bruised, marked neck and face. Sabrina had been fun to play with over the last two days, but as the voice in his dreams had said, he had a bigger purpose now.

As if agreeing with him, thunder cracked in the sky above, Carlos clutched his fingers around the cold hilt of his sword.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I don't own HP or PJO in any way or form.

AN-1: If you wish to you can read the NEXT SEVEN CHAPTERS right now by joining my Linktree.

AN-2: Battle ahead, that is all for this chapter.

"Come out, Carlos!" he shouted, standing outside the doors to the bar where the son of Ares was. He weaved the mist around the whole bar to prevent any mortals from coming by as he took out his sword. "I know that you know I am here, so don't drag this out any further and put these mortals in danger."

"You could just turn away," came the reply as the doors opened, revealing Carlos standing with a longsword in his hands, the edge already gleaming with crimson fire. "It was a bitch to keep this weapon from returning back to the armory on Father's commands, you know? Glad I get to test it out fully, especially on an asshole like you."

"You actually stopped a God from summoning back his weapon?" Harry questioned as he raised an eyebrow, slowly taking a step forward as Carlos did the same, his eyes lowering to the sword in the demigod's hands. "I would have called that impressive if it hadn't resulted in the deaths of two demigods."

"You don't know what you are talking about pipsqueak," he growled back, whipping out his other hand to materialize a knife in it, its black blade seeming to absorb the light around it, the mere sight of it making his hair stand on end. "I am going to tell this to you only once Potter…move away, or you will end up on a pyre."

"I don't think so," He shook his head, fully confident in his abilities to take down Carlos, pointing his sword at the older boy. "Surrender now, and I will take you back to the camp, and maybe Lord Ares will forgive you for your treachery."

"Treachery?!" The boy hissed, and Harry narrowed his eyes as he visibly saw the muscles on the boy grow slightly, a red sheen coming over his skin as Carlos took a step forward, his sword rising to point at the forest. "What do you know of treachery you little shit?! I loved Diana from the bottom of my fucking heart, and she fucking fucked a guy not ten feet away from me! What do you know of betrayal, you entitled little prince?"

'Why has Ares not withdrawn his blessing if he wants Carlos' head?' he thought, bringing up his blade as Carlos suddenly shot forward like a cannonball, his sword coming down in a brutal overhead swing. Grunting as he stopped the blow, Harry felt himself slide back from the force of the attack, surprised at the strength shown by the Son of Ares. 'And how the fuck is he moving that fast with that injury? Bloody hell, this is going to be tougher than I thought. I need to take him towards the forest, can't raise a ruckus here.'

Moving forward, he parried the slash coming for his midsection, and his fist landed squarely right on the bandages on Carlos' abdomen. The Son of Ares reacted instantly, stumbling backward with a pained hiss as his hand reflexively went to his injury, and Harry looked at the blood blooming out on the bandages. "You are in no condition to fight Carlos. Last chance to throw down that sword."

"You think you are some big-shot hero or something? You fry a few hellhounds, shoot a few thunderbolts, and think you are hot shit?!" the boy hissed back, ripping off the bandages, and Harry's eyes widened slightly as he saw a red glow emit from inside the ghastly-looking wound, before it healed before his very eyes, leaving behind just a pale scar. Flicking away the blood on his fingers, Carlos rolled his neck and looked him in the eyes, raising his sword once again, the crimson glow around him intensifying even further. "Let me show you how wrong you are."

"Fine," Harry growled, shooting forward in a blur of motion as his xiphos glowed blue with the electricity he was pouring into it, the edge cutting through the air towards Carlos' shoulder, only for his longsword to come in between. In return, the knife in his other hand came right for his heart, but Harry pulled back and swerved to the side, kicking out toward his shin with all the power he could muster. However, the demigod simply raised his foot, shifting backward to launch a punishing kick at his chest. Back and forth they went, exchanging dozens of blows in moments—swords clashing and parrying, sparks flying in the air as Harry felt himself be put more and more on the back foot.

It wasn't simply a matter of skill, for in that, he and Carlos were relatively equal—a cut opened up on his shoulder right at that moment, and Harry growled, feeling his iron-tight control over his powers slip as a wind kicked up around them. Other than their swordplay, what was making this fight more dangerous for him was the fact that Carlos was older than him. His limbs were longer, and his frame was bigger, giving him a physical advantage that he lacked.

And as strong as Harry was, he couldn't unleash his full power without beginning to destroy the environment around him, something Carlos was not restricted by, the Blessing of Ares empowering the already powerful demigod to ludicrous degrees moment by moment. And finally, Harry was used to fighting monsters, not empowered demigods. Sure, he could fight against weapons, but it was a major difference in avoiding swipes of claws and smashes of fists compared to slashes of a sword. Something Carlos was not burdened with, as he seemed to see through his moves more and more, his movements appearing to be happening without thought as the Son of Ares weaved his blade in offense and defense seamlessly.

'Brat, is this all you are capable of?" Ares' voice rumbled in his mind as he leaned back, avoiding getting his eyes cut apart, barely bringing his sword back up as Carlos flipped his grip and brought the longsword back in a swift slash. 'A shame. It seems I was mistaken in choosing you to bring him back.'

'Respectfully Milord,' he thought back, taking care to not let his mounting anger bleed into his words as he swiped his fingers through the air, sending a scythe of air towards the demigod, catching him by surprise and opening a small cut on his chest, blood welling from the wound instantly, 'if only Carlos wouldn't be able to access your blessing, things would be much simpler. I don't want to cause havoc in this town by using my full power, but I can't defeat him in a purely physical fight.'

'You think I would not have done that already boy,' Ares' voice suddenly changed in his head, turning from a relaxed drawl to an angry rumbling as the God's presence bore down upon his thoughts, and Harry nearly stumbled, escaping Carlos' attack by a hairsbreadth at the last moment, feeling his blade cut through the front of his shoulder instead of his neck. However, the War God gave him no respite, his mounting anger pressing down on his thoughts like a tangible weight. 'Carlos is not drawing upon my power actively, but something else is feeding him. What or who, I know not, but he can't sustain it for long. Use your powers over my father's domain and fry him right now, before he manages to gain the upper hand in the little shitshow you are presenting!'

'But the mort-'

'Are going to die one day anyways,' The God of War's voice cut in with finality, and before Harry could think of something, he felt all that anger, all that violence brimming in his thoughts suddenly explode. Anger overrode every thought of constraint, and despite himself, Harry let his power suffuse the sky above, 'That should do it. Remember little brother, I won't tolerate failure. End Carlos before this strange power that is empowering him does something more dangerous!'

'I commanded you not to tarry uselessly,' the soft, coiling whispers that had greeted him in his dream echoed in his mind, even as Carlos felt his arms and legs begin to burn. 'I cannot sustain you much longer, Carlos. Disengage and move towards the forest to escape, or else the Son of Zeus will begin to lose his own control, and call upon the thunderclouds.'

'Why can't you make me escape right here?' he asked back, his blade cutting through Harry's shoulder, and as he made to press his advantage, a blade made of wind cut through the air in an instant, opening his chest in a string of blood. 'You do realize that the moment I start to leave this town, this will free him up to use his elemental powers, don't you?'

'The situation is that even if you stay here,' the voice replied. 'I am empowering your nature as the God of War's son, but I am not yet at the strength where I can do this for long. You need to escape, for your own good, demigod, lest this abomination forgets his sensibilities and unleash his full might. Your survival won't be as assured then, as much as it is with trying to escape. The shadows in this forest are brimming with the energies released by the deaths of those two demigods, and I will find it much easier to help you escape there. Now make haste and don't wast—RUN!'

'Wh-oh shit!' His question turned into alarm instantly as he felt his hair stand on end, watching how the bastard's eyes suddenly turned an electric blue as the sky turned white, a pillar of lightning dropping towards them. Jumping backwards, Carlos brought his hand in front of his eyes as the road was blasted apart by the bolt, stones and pebbles peppering his front as the smell of ozone filled the air around them. 'What happened to him not wanting to kill the mortals?!"

'The War God has interfered, raising his bloodlust and desire for battle with his anger,' his mysterious benefactor replied, the tiniest bits of anger audible in its words, as Carlos felt all of his injuries and tiredness disappear once more. 'Rush to the shadows and strike the ground with the knife to escape, boy. I won't brook disappointment on this matter!'

"Fuck this," the said demigod's voice echoed from behind the lingering smoke left by the lightning, and Carlos unthinkingly took a step back as a neon blue glow lit up where Harry had been standing, the sound of crackling lightning filling the space around them. "I wanted to do this peacefully, but you have to make me angry, didn't you? Do you think you are my equal Carlos? Powerful enough to 'show me how wrong I am?'...think again."

This, this was what he was wary of. Physically, he knew he could best the Son of Zeus, maybe not easily, but he could. But with the elemental abilities coming into play, the runt was sure to get the upper hand, since not everyone was born with the ability to be a transformer and shoot thousands of voltages out of their fucking ass! Deciding to leg it before his own mounting aggression made him do something stupid, Carlos turned around and bent his knees, before jumping off the ground with enough force to leap clear over the houses and the shops, the ground shattering beneath his feet from the force of his jump.

"Jumping into the air, not very smart," a voice echoed from his left, and a bolt of lightning struck him mid-air. Gritting his teeth as he felt himself get blasted off course, Carlos felt himself punch through a wall, pouring more of his focus on healing the small burn smoldering on his left side as he stood up, his crimson eyes meeting the glowing blue ones of the son of Zeus. "Do you still think whatever is powering you up can save you from me?"

"I don't need any power to defeat the likes you, you arrogant fucker," he snarled, swiping his blade through the air as he jumped, clearing dozens of feet within an instant, pushing his body to limits it had never seen before as he slashed at Harry's chest. His sword bit into the flesh of the demigod before him, and Carlos grinned at the blood that spurted out of the wound…only for Harry to grab his blade as it started to move away from his body. Blinking in bewilderment at the action, Carlos had just a moment to raise his eyes to see the smirk on Harry's face, before his world turned into a sea of agony and hundreds of volts traveled into his body directly.

"Fucking hell!" he grunted, feeling the Blessing kick into overdrive as it increased his resistance to the electricity, hardening his body and muscles to resist the element as he felt the pain lessen by the second. Fisting his left hand, he pulled it back despite the spasms and jitters that were shaking his whole body to its core, and slammed it in Harry's surprised face with all the power he could pull. "Take this, motherfucker!"

Instantly, all the lightning around them was blasted away from the force of his punch, as Harry's face snapped back with a vicious crunch, his jaw clearly broken as they both began to fall towards the ground. However, as much as his fingers were hurting with the blisters and bruises upon them, Carlos knew he wouldn't get a better chance to escape the dazed Son of Zeus. Bringing his hand back the moment his feet touched the ground, Carlos threw his sword like a javelin, the sound barrier shattering from his power the crimson celestial bronze stabbed toward his enemy's midsection. With how close they had been, there was no chance of Potter dodging his throw completely, and knowing that, Carlos turned on his heel and jumped again, his eyes seeing nothing but the treeline a couple hundred feet away from him. Behind him, he heard the sound of his sword sinking into Harry's flesh, the pained, warbled scream making him grin—even as he felt blood begin to drip down from his nose, the overuse of the divinity being fed to him taking its toll on his mortal body.

"Your son has turned traitor."

"I know," Ares answered, staring westwards with his hands clasped behind his back, his crimson mane swaying in the momentary wind, while his baleful orange eyes burned with barely contained anger. "That is why I sent Potter to kill him."

"And yet you didn't take away the powers your seed grants the boy? And neither did you restore Harry's power that was damaged by Artemis' attempt to crush his mind."

"I did," the God of War grunted, staring past the clouds and the cities at the fight going on between his traitorous spawn and the Son of Zeus, "but somehow he is still able to access the powers of the Blessing. And something divine is feeding that Blessing, considering that I have cut him off from my powers ever since he turned traitor. Regarding Potter's powers…I judged them enough for Carlos…not this empowered, fully healed version of him."

"That sounds troublesome," the God beside him mused out, humming a little as he crossed his arms, "something capable of restoring powers without the deity's knowledge…or is it mere imitation?"

"That looks a bit more powerful than being just a mere imitation, dear brother," a second voice joined him, and Ares sighed as ethereal golden light shone down upon them, the sounds of a violin being played echoing in the silence as a sweltering heat enveloped the area. The clouds by their feet were banished away, burning away in a blaze of golden radiance as Apollo's chariot came to a stop by their left, the cherry-red Supra roaring quietly. Getting out of his chariot-turned-car, the Sun God gave them a salute, and as the door closed behind him, Ares saw the disheveled, unconscious nymphs inside. "Greetings brothers, I see you have decided to spectate our littlest brother."

"Not sure 'brother' is the correct term for someone like him," Ares shook his head with amusement, looking back on the battle as Harry used his powers over the wind, cutting Carlos' chest. "He is barely out of childhood, and a demigod at that. We see dozens like him every millenia."

"Not like him," Apollo shook his head with a laugh, "his future is the most interesting one I have seen ever since I gained my sight."

"Do tell," Hermes raised an eyebrow, raising a hand as a nymph appeared by them, holding up a platter with Nectar-infused wine upon it. "I myself find myself intrigued by his deeds and future, especially since the children of the Three are known to be the supposed downfall of Olympus."

"I don't know."

"But you just sai-"

"I know, but I find his future interesting because it is hidden, obscured from my clairvoyance in a way that nothing has ever been," the Sun God answered, a small frown tugging at his handsome face before it was gone. "Someone has gone to great lengths to hide him from my sight, that list is of those capable of that is very small. But the entities who can replicate a God's power…only a couple come to mind. The first being Hecate, who can manipulate all kinds of energies to a degree under her dominion over magic, and the second being our father, as the King of Gods, and the third being the Three Daughters themselves."

"This is getting nowhere. I need to know who has the power to dare pretend to be me," Ares grunted impatiently, turning away from Apollo and Hermes towards Lancaster, a brief flare of power emitted out from him. "Finally."

"You put the mortals in danger, Ares," Hermes frowned, able to feel Harry begin to draw more on his elemental powers, and the sky above Lancaster beginning to shift. "Dozens could die if this continues."

"Lancaster suffers storms and tornadoes all the time," Ares scoffed, crossing his massive arms as he saw Harry blast Carlos with a bolt of lightning. "For once, it won't be because of some air spirits fucking around or Father being annoyed."

"Damn, that looked painful," Apollo winced, as Carlos socked Harry's face, actually creating a shockwave that shook the ground and the houses around them, shattering the windows in an instant. And it looked as if he wasn't done, throwing his sword right into Harry's front before making a run for it. "Missed his kidney by an inch."

"Any of you feel that?" Hermes suddenly narrowed his eyes, raising a finger towards where the fight was happening, looking at his brothers. Frowning as they both shook their heads, the God of Travellers and Messages closed his eyes, bringing but a pinch of his power to bear as he focused on his domains. Following the vibrations in his being to the source, he opened his eyes, irises glowing a dull golden. "Carlos is going to escape…due to an interdimensional gateway. The Knife! It is the key to it! Command Harry to capture that knife at all costs, even if Carlos escapes!"

"You would let the killer of your son escape?" Ares raised an eyebrow, watching Harry wrench out the sword in a spurt of blood, and his eyes widened as he saw dozen of bolts of lightning drop all over Lancaster, fierce tornadoes beginning to form over the area as the son of Zeus lost control. Absorbing the electricity from the storm he had begun, Harry rushed through the air towards Carlos, his eyes twin suns of powers as his body healed itself, arcs of lightning trailing off his body.

"Carlos will die one way or another one day," Hermes answered, reaching out towards their demigod brother, "I would rather pull out the guts of whichever upstart thought it was a good idea to manipulate him, and use him as a puppet to kill my child. They are the bigger issue here if they can just emulate and give out powers like this."

'Harry, get that knife. It is paramount, more than killing Carlos.'

'Who is th-Lord Hermes?!' He thought wildly, past all the anger flowing through his thoughts as he raised his hand, gathering a lance of electricity in his hands, even as he directed hundreds of blades of wind at Carlos' back. Satisfaction surged through him as they found their mark, his tattered shirt getting bloodied, 'Lord Ares ha-'

'I know, but he won't say anything. Now hurry. We want that knife.'

'As you command,' he acquiesced, feeling the hole in his gut finally close up, his whole body burning due to the amount of electricity he had absorbed to heal himself, a thunderstorm slowly enveloping all of Lancaster.

His power did not care for demigods or mortals—it tore through Lancaster with blind fury. Roofs ripped from cottages and shops, timber snapping like twigs as whole walls gave way beneath the shrieking wind. Market stalls splintered into kindling, and wagons overturned in the streets, their horses screaming as they bolted in terror. Families spilled into the open air, clutching one another as the sky poured winds and water together, lightning reducing a row of homes to smoking ruin.

Harry caught glimpses through the haze—the wide, terrified eyes of children as their parents dragged them into cellars, a man's desperate cry as a falling beam crushed his shop, the helpless panic of mortals who had no place in the battle of demigods. Each sight drove the regret a little deeper into his heart, yet Ares's command was paramount, and so was the War-God's whisper suffusing his thoughts. Thus, the storm wasn't going to stop, not until Carlos lay dead at his feet and his head seperated from his body. His fury and fear had become the sky's own wrath, and Lancaster was breaking beneath it.

Grabbing Carlos' sword by its hilt, he poured lightning into it, and threw it back towards the Son of Ares. While he wasn't much of a marksman, aim really wasn't his intention here. The sword landed a few feet ahead of the running demigod, and with a thought, Harry made all that energy inside the weapon explode out in a blast of roaring winds and blinding electricity. Ignoring the truck that exploded from the force, Harry caught sight of Carlos amidst the billowing smoke and debris, the son of Ares stumbling for a moment from the blast, as well as the injuries on his back. "Got you you fucking traitor!"

Swooping down, he brought down the prepared spear in his left hand right on Carlos' head. A scream of agony left the demigod, and Harry choked on his breath as the Son of Ares trashed wildly, one of his fists hitting him in the neck. Getting his breath back, he barely had a moment to raise his xiphos, blocking Carlos' longsword as he met the Son of Ares' eye… . Half of his face was a burnt, flaking mess covered in raw burns and blisters, his left eye socket nothing but a ruined, bloody crater. His cracked, destroyed lips moved slightly, and Harry winced the white veins imprinted upon his skin.

"K-Kill yuh," Carlos rasped out, a blister on his face popping from the motion, and his leg kicked at his stomach suddenly. Caught off guard by the attack, Harry shifted sideways, but still, it couldn't save him from getting a cracked rib for his troubles. Sparks flew as he attacked, xiphos against longsword as the storm continued to rage around them, harsh winds from the expanding tornado threatening to pick everything clear off the ground. However the winds were of his creation, his element, and they ignored him entirely, as if he didn't exist for them. Yet Carlos swayed due to the storm, his balance shaky as his blade started to lose against his, and Harry grunted, pushing with all of his might against the failing blade lock. Blood flew into the air as the Son of Ares faltered, his xiphos instantly sliding over the longsword's edge to cut through the demigod's chest, giving him another cut crossing over the previous one, forming an 'x'.

However, Carlos wasn't a demigod who had survived many years without being a slouch in combat. His hand grabbed Harry by his collar, and threw him over his head like a rag doll, slamming him back first into the ground with enough force to crush a car into scrap. The ground shattered around the Son of Zeus, and Harry vomited a sprout of blood, feeling his ribs shatter yet again as Carlos stomped over his chest, pushing him further into the ground. Summoning the parts of his brain that weren't clouded by the burning pain, Harry grabbed the leg crushing his sternum and once again shocked the burnt demigod, pouring hundreds of volts of electricity into Carlos like a live transformer. But right as he did that, Carlos stabbed his longsword into the ground by his head, the celestial bronze grounding all of his divine-powered electricity into Gaea.

For a moment, Harry could do nothing but blink in shock at the sight of the dying sparks shooting down the sword by his head, feeling every ampere of power in his grip get soaked by the Earth, and negating his attack in a way it had never been done before. His eyes rose past the blade towards the Son of Ares, whose single crimson eye stared down at him balefully, with nothing but a twitch going down his body to show for his attack. Struck dumb, it took him a minute to realize that Carlos had jumped off him towards the forest, the winds slowing down as his mind wavered from the pain and the shock. "Fuck," he grunted, pushing himself to his knees, almost falling down again as he vomited blood again. Feeling his ribs shift over his lungs, as well as the burn that signified the puncture, he glared at Carlos' back and raised his hand. "Lucky bastard."

Gathering the last vestiges of his power, Harry glared past his swimming vision at the tree line, the magical blood within him somehow shivering, feeling a buildup of energy in the shadows as Carlos neared the forest. The sound of chirping birds filled the air as his hand once again burst into violent electricity, concentrating all of his power into his xiphos as the white-hot power flowed into the blade.

The divine metal vibrated in his hand, and Harry bit his lip, feeling it grow hotter and hotter as he fed every drop of his remaining strength to his sword, pulling his arm back as Carlos stumbled the final few feet into the forest, the evening shadows stretching around him as the clouds above cleared up. "Take this, you fucking traitor," he muttered past his bloody lips, throwing his xiphos through the air towards the Son of Ares.

The crackling, glowing blade spun like a javelin, breaking through the air with a sonic boom, burning arcs of lightning into the ground as Harry fell to his knees. His eyes turned towards Carlos, watching the demigod raise his knife, the dark metal beginning to glow a dull red as wisps of crimson began to swirl around it. The Son of Ares plunged the dagger down into the ground, and Harry shivered despite himself at the unnatural chill that suddenly permeated the whole area, snuffing out the lingering winds with its emergence..

The shadows around Carlos swirled alive, rising off the ground like a curtain before stilling back into a pool at his feet—and Harry watched with stoney eyes as the demigod stepped into the darkness. His heart thundering in his chest, the Son of Zeus met the single, remaining eye of his target as he began to sink into the portal, and as one, they both turned towards the xiphos barely a foot away from him…however, the smirk of victory on Harry's face was far different from the look of surprise and fear on Carlos'.

For a moment, everything slowed down for them, their battle instincts kicking into overdrive as if detecting the pivotal moment. Their eyes followed the blade as one, the rapidly spinning blade slowing down, and even the lightning trailing off it moved at a snail's pace, the blue-white glow beginning to illuminate the darkness in which Carlos was sinking down, already having disappeared up to his knees. Carlos' mouth opened, the beginnings of a shout starting to come from his already torn throat, his single eyes staring at the spinning tip of the sword coming at him, even as his hand moved to bat away the blade…but it was too late.

His hand spasmed as he tried to move it, and Harry internally crowed with victory as he realized that not all of his lightning had been mitigated, even as time resumed itself. Carlos fully sank into the darkness, the short scream of rage silencing itself as the Son of Ares disappeared along with the swimming darkness. And with him, the eerie, subduing coldness that had started to suffocate the area also went away, leaving him gasping for breath as his body finally responded to his will, slowly standing up to his feet. Rolling his shoulders, he walked forward, idly looking around at the destruction his short stunt with his powers had wrecked on Lancaster.

The tornadoes had condensed into one, ripping off roofs and trees, and with most of the houses being made of wood, they were not spared either. Fires burned across the town, from gas lines and electrical damages, but the slowly falling rain might quell those soon enough. Coughing a little as he stumbled on a loose stone, he kicked it off the path as his eyes rose to the sky above, exerting a bit of his will to make it rain just a bit harder. Gritting his teeth from the effort as he literally felt his insides twist with agony, Harry soldiered on towards his sword, the silver edge gleaming upon the forest floor.

Coming to a stop besides it, he levitated it softly towards his hand, the celestial metal not rejecting his magic like the others—probably because it had been with him for so many years or something, he thought.

But that was something he could ask Chiron later, since right now, he had a meeting with two Olympians, he decided, looking down at the burnt stump of the elbow where his xiphos had severed Carlos' arm. His eyes traced the still smoking stump, the charred, jagged flesh covered in blisters, before his eyes trailed down the arm towards the still fingers, the ornate black dagger clasped between them.