2019 UPDATE:

To all the lovely people who reviewed, followed and favorited under the impression that i wasn't going to be a complete and total piece of shit and abandon this story like a orphan know one wants anymore, you have my sincerest apologies.

I'm going through and replacing, spellchecking and even changing a couple things in this story, so if you have already read it, you may want to skim through the first 14 chapters again.

Again, I apologize. I really have no excuse. Life has been rough, depression sucks, and adulting is hard, but I'm pulling myself back together. Writing fanfiction was something I used to love, so I'm poking my toes back in the water, starting with finishing this fic.

Okie Dokie. So, ya'll should know that I have abandoned the Hetalia and Naruto fandom. For good. I'm not going to be going back there. Yeah, no. I'll be taking down my fanfics for those fandoms soon.

I have since joined the Percy Jackson fandom and I've been wanting to write a crossover fanfiction for PJO and Harry Potter. This is the result! :D

Furthermore, I understand that the Harry Potter books take place in the 1990's. However, I am not entirely sure what year the Percy Jackson books are set in and I don't know where I would find out. So, for the sake of plot advancement, they will be set in the same time frame.

If anyone would like to correct me on anything, please feel free to.

Madam Rosmerta was a perfectly ordinary witch. She had a normal job tending to her pub, serving drinks to customers, chatting with the regulars, washing out the butterbeer mugs, controlling drunk and angry wizards. She wasn't particularly skilled or awful at magic, and she passed her O.W.L's with an A.

She didn't have a husband, but that was fine. Who needed men anyways? They were idiots, the whole lot of them. Cheating dirtbags who ran off with blonde twenty somethings the day you weren't young enough to have children anymore.

With that thought, Rosmerta slammed a mug down with a little more force than needed and startled a large hound that was outside the open window. After a few seconds it went back to reading a map that was on the ground in front of it.

Wait.

Rosmerta stared at the creature. How odd. She had never seen a dog read a map before. Was it even a dog? Maybe the heat was getting to her; that was why the window was open in the first place. And it was hot indeed. The hottest day of the year in fact. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, and as she had suspected, the map was no longer there. It must have been a trick of the heat.

The dog was still there, however. It was now lying by the side of the building. It's chest bellowed outward and it's teeth were on full display as it panted, desperately trying to cool itself it the hot muggy late July weather.

So, taking pity on the poor beast, the woman filled a bowl with water and ice, and placed outside next to the dog. It (she?) looked up at her with strange green eyes that looked wiser then they should have been, and she felt chills run up her spine.

"Here ya go," She said a bit more nervously then she would admit, "You shouldn't be out here with nothing to drink." The dog continued to stare. Rosmerta got the strangest feeling that she was nothing but a bug in the eyes of this strange dog.

"Well," She continued, "I'll be inside the pub. Just scratch at the door if you need more water, or if you'd like to come in." The hound's dark fur shone sleek in the sun and she (Rosmerta concluded the dog was female) continued to stare at Rosmerta.

"Are you waiting for anyone?" Rosmerta asked on a whim, not thinking that the dog would actually answer. But it did. Amazingly, the dog nodded it's head calmly before lazily lapping at the ice water.

And with that, a bewildered Rosmerta shook her head, and went back into her pub.

…

The day went on, and Rosmerta continued to serve and entertain her customers. She refilled the water bowl she had for the dog outside twice, and not once did it move from it's position outside of the pub. While she was smart enough to figure out that the dog could understand what she was saying, Rosmerta could not figure out why the dog was staying there. It did not appear injured or scared. In fact, Rosmerta had seen the dog splay out it's large limbs and take a short nap.

Finally it came time to close up. She had kicked out her last patron and went back to the large black, green-eyed dog.

"Well, it's closing time, Pluto." She said. The dog threw what was most certainly a glare at her.

"Don't like that name?" Rosmerta asked. The dog nodded.

"Well, isn't that what Mickey Mouse called his dog?" She said. The dog gave her a looked that said without question, 'I am not your dog.'

"All right, then." Rosmerta said, and turned away. She walked back inside and gathered up some scraps from the day, and left them outside for the dog. "Here is some food if you get hungry, Green-Eyes. You sure you don't want to come inside?"

Once again, the dog nodded.

And with that, Rosmerta left and went to bed in her nice, magically-cooled, husband-free bed. Absentmindedly, she wondered what it would be like to have children. But she figured it didn't matter. She was much too old, and even if she did adopt, a pub was no place to raise a child.

But maybe it would be nice one day, when she was old and retired.

Merlin help her.

…

The dog outside of Madam Rosmerta's pub, The Three Broomsticks, didn't leave. It stayed, occasionally reaching to the bowls for a scrap that Rosmerta had left her. She stayed and waited till the lights on the streets windows had nearly all gone out, and even longer.

Finally, when the moon seemed to be at its highest, and tall figure in flamboyant silvery robes popped into the street. He had a long white beard, and piercing blue eyes.

This man was Albus Dumbledore.

He walked up to the dog and bowed low. "Ah… Lady Hecate. I do humbly apologize for my lateness." He straightened, and where there had been a dog, there was now a young woman sitting cross-legged on the side of the street with a stern look on her face.

She waved her hands. "It is done. Ensure it does not happen again." Dumbledore nodded gravely. "How did you know it was me?" She asked.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes shining with barely concealed pride. "Your daughter takes after you."

Hecate smiled back, and stood up. "That she does, my old , you always did have a talent for seeing through a disguise. Or am I mistaken on that, Albus?"

"If you say it, it must be true, my Lady."

Hecate sighed, and took Dumbledore's arm, "Walk with me, won't you?" She said, throwing her head back and gazing into his eyes.

"With pleasure, my Lady." Albus smiled warmly, and they began strolling throughout the dark streets of Hogsmeade.

It was quiet, the only sounds being crickets chirping in the night air, and the occasional owl, hooting in the distance.

"The ministry plans to interfere at Hogwarts," Dumbledore began. "I fear they will succeed."

Hecate nodded. "They will." She said with certainty. Dumbledore bowed his head. She gripped his sleeve with her free hand. "But I do have a plan, my love."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and he smiled a wrinkly, "What plan is that, my dear Lady."

Hecate smiled back. "I have made arrangements to send three demigods on a mission to your school, to help defend it."

"Three children against an army of Death Eaters?"

Hecate shook her head, "They've stood against greater threats than the likes of Tom Riddle." She said somberly. "However, I do not believe that he will attempt an attack on the school just yet."

"Then why send demigods?"

"Harry Potter must be protected. I know about the dementors, Albus." She gave him a pointed look.

"I have guards for him in the Order." Dumbledore protestered.

"And what about when he attends school? And do not tell me the school is safe, he has faced more danger inside the school then out of it!" Hecate exclaimed.

"I trust Severus-" Dumbledore started, but was cut off.

"Harry doesn't." She said. "He needs a guard he can get close to. connect with. Someone he'll trust if they follow him around and poke their nose into his business."

Dumbledore sighed wearily, looking down for a minute. He seemed to be contemplating the information that the Goddess had given him. Finally, he looked up and smiled at Hecate. "I suppose, you are right. You always have been the source of my more brilliant ideas. Thank you for your advice on the dragon's blood, by the way."

Hecate sniffed, "Give yourself more credit, old man. You've kept him alive this far. I've watched him since he started at Hogwarts; keeping him alive is no easy feat." The young woman trailed her hand up Dumbledore's sleeve to his shoulder. "And the dragon's blood was all you. I was merely your guide and encouragement for your genius." She smiled wryly and pressed herself against the old wizard, her brilliant green eyes coy as they gazed into his. "Oh, what a demigod we could have made, Albus. It isn't too late."

The old man shook his head sadly, "Alas, I cannot. You are a beautiful woman and I am very flattered, but I cannot return the sentiment." He raised an eyebrow, "And I do believe that it is much too late for me to be planning a family, my Lady."

Hecate laughed, "Oh, Albus. I'm a goddess of childbirth, as well as magic. I can do whatever the fuck I want to do."

Dumbledore nodded, and the two of them let go of each other's arms. Dumbledore kissed Hecate's hand. "I'm afraid, my Lady, that we must now part ways. I have other commitments I must attend to, that I am late for as well."

"Very well, Albus Dumbledore. Until we meet again." Hecate said, and Dumbledore pulled a long and old wand from his robes, flicked it, and disappeared with a pop.

Hecate touched the spot on her hand that Dumbledore had kissed and smiled fondly. Then she too disappeared into the night.