Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters, ideas and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Cymopoleia Venus Potter – Laneya Grace (BLACK HAIR)

I've been getting many reviews from my Readers about them being confused over the timeline; as you can see from CHAPTER 1, the Olympians are reading the events that would be happening in the FUTURE! So, Ares doesn't know who Cymopoleia is, he is suspicious because she seems familiar but that's all. The Olympians are reading a few days after James & Lily Potter's death, and only the Moria, Aphrodite and Hecate know about Cymopoleia true identity.

Hope that clears everything for you all! XD

Chapter 6: Meeting My Fate:

Once Rhea read out the chapter title, the Olympians traded looks of confusion, but thankfully, in regards to Apollo especially – who was still shocked over the fact that Ares would bless Cymopoleia in the future – nobody interrupted.

Albus Dumbledore, in Cymopoleia's personal opinion was a peculiar old man.

Hecate giggled unabashedly, "That he is. That he is."

His appearance wholly interpreted a wizard's description, and even if she continued to remain in the dark about the existence of magic, she would still be able to easily recognize Dumbledore as one, since he bore a great resemblance to the wizard stereotypes.

Hermes nodded his head in agreement, "From Albus' description, he is a carbon copy of the Merlin Disney cartoon and all that wizards portray."

"Yes, it seems witches are mostly interpreted incorrectly," Hecate grumbled, muttering a few expletives under her breath as she recalled the warts, green complexion and hooked nose most mortals construe witches to be. "Don't even get me started on the witch in Hansel and Gretel," she indignantly snapped, ignoring Aphrodite's amused smile.

He was dressed in garish midnight blue robe with printed stars and moons, and a matching conical hat, his long silvery hair and beard cascaded to below his belt, and he also had a crooked nose, twinkling azure eyes hidden behind half-moon spectacles, and a wrinkly wizened face.

When Professor Snape dragged her into the Leaky Cauldron and away from Damon Wolfe,

And here, everybody stared pointedly at a smug Ares, but the Olympians were still rendered speechless at the God of War's selfless action in blessing the young Deity who was sure to have many adversities in the future. Even Ares himself was flabbergasted at his future actions.

he escorted her up into a private room for lunch, and was finally introduced to the esteemed Headmaster that the Wizarding Community looked up to entirely.

"And with reason," Hecate smiled fondly at the depiction of one of her favorite mortals.

The second Dumbledore laid eyes on her tiny stature, his azure eyes lit ablaze and twinkled tenfold, followed by a wide, soft smile that spoke volumes of fondness and Cymopoleia was engulfed with a plethora of positive emotions: tender, trust, love and familiarity.

"What? Why?" Poseidon spluttered; after all, the Sea God still harbored feelings of ire toward the old mortal who dumped his cherished child on the doorstep of such an abominable family of animals.

Hecate narrowed her onyx orbs at Poseidon, "Nobody is perfect, Lord Poseidon. Even Albus Dumbledore isn't infallible. He made a mistake, but had only the best intentions at heart. He never meant to cause Cymopoleia such harm and suffering!"

Wanting to remain peace in the room, Rhea softly addressed the incensed Goddess, "This favorite of yours, Albus, does he harbor intimate feelings toward my granddaughter?"

Hecate beamed, all disdain obliterated from her gorgeous visage, "Oh yes, Albus doted on little Cymopoleia as only a grandfather could." Aphrodite, Hera and Rhea were instantly mollified, and Poseidon grudgingly kept his mouth shut, inwardly deciding to observe the old mortal's interaction with his daughter before judging so harshly, especially since Hecate adored the wizard.

The young Potter obediently ate her meal, while she listened to Professors Snape and Minerva regale their discoveries upon visiting the Dursleys. Cymopoleia failed to notice three pairs of eyes scrutinizing her astutely as she forced herself to eat a small amount of sustenance, before finally giving up the task and pushing away her half-full plate.

Demeter tutted loudly, "Her metabolism would need to get accustomed to eating regular portioned meals on a routinely basis since those blasted Dursleys spent a decade starving her!"

"Miss Potter, did you not like the meal I had Tom prepare for you?" Dumbledore asked with a benign smile on his wizened visage, "If not, I can have it replaced to your liking. It is of no bother."

Blushing profusely, she ducked her head and smiled, "N-no, it was fantastic, sir. The best I've had, I'm just… I'm not used to eating such a big portion."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed at that, and both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape traded aghast looks with each other. Sighing forlornly, Dumbledore spoke up, "My dear, I apologize and implore that you forgive an old man for such a tremendous mistake."

"At least he recognized his gross error in judgment," Zeus spoke up, staring pointedly at a grumbling Poseidon.

"I don't understand," Cymopoleia tilted her head sideways in an adorable fashion.

Placing a wrinkled hand over both her tiny ones, azure eyes lost its regular twinkle as he stared intensely into her sea-green orbs, "It was I who relocated you to live with your Aunt, Leia. The fault remains entirely with me, for I believed Petunia would forgo all jealousy toward your mother and raise you as her own. I seem to have made a grand mistake, and I ask for your pardon."

Hecate smiled forlornly, "Whenever Albus loses his patent twinkle, it is never a good sign. He has always been a jovial and jubilant wizard, and when that twinkle of his diminishes, then he is either enraged or melancholic."

"Sei, darling. Albus genuinely regrets his poor choice in Cymopoleia's upbringing. Let go of your anger," Rhea softly implored her stubborn son.

Astute sea-green eyes scrutinized the remorseful wizard, and in a small, yet determined voice, said, "That's not the only reason though, is it, sir?"

Dumbledore's lips twitched and Professor McGonagall let out a modulated chuckle, "Your perceptiveness reminds me of your mother, of Lily." And Cymopoleia didn't fail to notice how Professor Snape flinched at the statement.

"I would say Athena," Artemis smiled; the Goddess of Wisdom was uncertain on whether it was a compliment or not. Disdained over sharing the same quality as Poseidon and Aphrodite's daughter of all Olympians, or overjoyed over sharing the same quality as her youngest deity cousin.

Aphrodite scowled, "I can be astute if I want to be, Artemis!"

"As I," Poseidon smirked, knowing that his niece meant no offense with her statement, unlike Aphrodite who had always been so touchy.

"No, my dear girl. I placed blood wards around Privet Drive, for your mother died protecting you, her love saved you which left a mark. As long as you remained at your aunt's house, around those that shares the same blood as Lily, and called that place your home, then you shall remain safe from those that will you harm. In my rash decision to protect you, I failed to acknowledge that there are many different ways you could get harmed, such as emotional and physical, and for that I apologize," Dumbledore concluded contritely.

"So he had good intentions after all," Hades muttered.

Hecate sighed, "In retrospect, Albus had a brilliant idea. Even though Lily isn't in all actuality her mother by blood, she sacrificed her life for Cymopoleia which leaves a mark. Petunia and Dudley would empower the blood wards Albus created around the house; unfortunately, the lack of love discouraged the wards from fruitfully working to the best of its ability."

Athena hummed thoughtfully, "Quite ingenious of him. Aren't there any other surviving kin of Lily Potter?"

"Regrettably no," Hecate sighed forlornly, "Just Petunia and her obese son."

Given the onslaught of information, it took Cymopoleia a while to process Dumbledore's explanation, but in the end, she gave the wizened wizard her famous mega-watt smile, successfully taking the three Professors' breath away with her divine beauty. "I forgive you, sir. You didn't place me there with reasons of malcontent. You were trying to protect me, and for that, I thank you, sir."

"I suppose if Cymopoleia could forgive him and hold no grudge, then… I shall too," Poseidon huffed in defeat, stubbornly averting all eye-contact with the amused Olympians, his enraged wife and nonchalant son.

"You are too kind, truly. Compassionate just like your mother," Dumbledore beamed fondly, and Cymopoleia could have sworn a tear escaped his eyelid. Suddenly, the eccentric wizard clapped his hands together in a jovial manner and pierced her with azure eyes that had managed to regain its regular twinkle, "Now, the true reason I am here. Do you wish to reside with the Dursleys? Be aware, that if you do, then I will personally ensure they treat you differently, otherwise they would not only face my ire, but Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape's as well."

Ares scoffed, "Why in Tartarus would she want to return to those loathsome animals."

But true to the three Professors' prediction, Cymopoleia vehemently shook her head in negative, "Please no, sir. They don't love me, and living in a loveless environment, it makes me feel… incomplete and empty," she scratched her chin, knowing that such a sensation was odd.

"Odd to you. But since I, the Goddess of Love, am your mother, then you shall thrive in an atmosphere filled with any and all kinds of love, especially pure love," Aphrodite uttered, speaking to the book as though it were her daughter. "It is a miracle my daughter isn't a shell of herself," she suddenly spat venomously, addressing the entire room of Olympians, "A decade of existing in an ambience of such malice and disdain, given no love or even simple positive emotions, as my daughter, she should be a hollow, and deleterious child."

"Yes, but with my genes running through her veins, it balanced yours out and helped with her survival rate and in keeping her a happy and healthy child. Also, being in constant contact with water aided her immensely," Poseidon pointed out with a sigh of relief, a disposition that all the Olympians, barring Amphitrite, shared.

"I understand, my dear girl," Dumbledore sighed forlornly, "You must say the words, my child, so that the ward would self-destruct."

Clearing her throat, she perked up in palpable excitement and coherently stated, "Privet Drive number 4 in Little Whinging is not my home!"

Dumbledore nodded with a sad smile, "And it is indeed no longer your home, Leia. Now, you still have one month until you depart to Hogwarts. I am going to place a large amount of trust on you, and allow you to inhabit this room free of charge. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape shall stop by every odd day and check on you, and this coming year, I shall search for a family to raise you until your reach seventeen, which is the age of maturity in the Wizarding World."

Cymopoleia squealed with utter joy, her cherubic face radiating with delight, "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. I promise I will not disappoint!"

Dumbledore chuckled as he stood up, "I know you won't, Leia."

The Olympians were ecstatic now that Cymopoleia no longer had to return to those horrid mortals, but none more than Poseidon and Aphrodite; the two Olympian parents didn't know how long they would be able to continue suffering in reading their daughter's cruel treatment.

"At least he has his priorities all sorted out," Apollo cheerfully pointed out.

"We shall still punish those Dursleys," Poseidon firmly announced.

As the three Professors turned to leave, Cymopoleia suddenly called after Dumbledore's retreating back, "Sir, Headmaster Dumbledore, how do you know to call me by my nickname, and with such familiarity?"

Turning around, Dumbledore regarded her with a fond smile, his azure orbs dancing merrily from behind his half-moon spectacles, "Why, my dear Leia, before your parents' untimely death, I used to babysit you. You knew me as your Grampy Alby."

"I told you," Hecate smirked smugly.

"Grampy Alby? That rhymes! Oh!" Apollo's sky-blue orbs widened, "I feel a haiku coming!"

"NO!"

"Dear grandson, how about later, hmm?" Rhea propositioned kindly. Apollo grumbled, but acquiesced, unable to deny his benign yet scary grandmother anything.

The month before Cymopoleia was to begin Hogwarts was one of the best of her life. Never before had the young girl knew such freedom, and whenever she wasn't in her room brushing up on the Wizarding World's culture, and educating herself in the intricacies of magic, Cymopoleia would roam around Diagon Alley, Mystical Alley, Crossroad Alley, Horizontal Alley, Vertigo Alley, and Spiritual Alley, playing pretend adventures like she always desired, and perusing the many stores that fit her fancy and called her attention.

Tom, the kindly bartender who resembled a bald walnut,

And again, Hermes, Ares and Apollo burst out into uncontrollable laughter.

warned her to never amble into Knockturn Alley, informing her that most of the shops in the specific alley were devoted to the Dark Arts, and that unusual, dangerous and scary people loiter around during all hours of the day, especially at night.

"Yes, good job. Well done, Tom," Hecate breathed out in relief.

"How bad is this Knockturn Alley exactly?" Hades inquired curiously.

Pondering an answer, Hecate finally conveyed, "Let me put it this way, even the most skilled adults would try avoiding that Alley. It is not a pleasurable experience, but alas, some are desperate, and most accommodations in there are cheap. There are many deplorable mortals that relate to that Alley, most of whom belong in the Fields of Punishment, and a small percentage in the Fields of Asphodel."

Hades' eyes widened impressively, and desperately hoped his niece would avoid entering that perilous Alley.

Although Cymopoleia was a naturally curious girl, and itched to scope the forbidden Alley out, the promise she made to the Headmaster who had given her her first taste of freedom after a decade of imprisonment, prevented her from doing so.

"I blame you and your damn genes, Poseidon," Aphrodite harrumphed but it lacked any bite.

Poseidon felt worriment creep up in him when the book mentioned her curiosity, and was deeply grateful she was a girl of her word, but still, he couldn't help but say, "The sea cannot be restrained, Aphrodite, remember that."

After much contemplation, Cymopoleia bequeathed her beautiful snowy owl, the name Athene, derived from Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom who had honored the nocturnal species by making them her favorite among feathered creatures.

Laughter!

Every Olympian but Athena burst out into uproarious laughter.

"I would be jealous, but truly, I am not," Poseidon boomed out, while Aphrodite nodded in vehement agreement.

"Oh hush up!" Athena snarled.

Zeus pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before narrowing his gaze at his arrogant daughter, "Athena, Cymopoleia meant no offense. It is obvious that she is honoring her familiar with your name, just like you honored the nocturnal species."

Biting her lips, the redhead mumbled, "I suppose…"

The eleven-year-old had always been obsessed with mythology ever since her youth and lonely days at Little Whinging, coupled with the language of Ancient Greek being hardwired in her brain for as long as she could remember; Cymopoleia had seen it fit for her familiar to be given a name that originated with her obsession.

On September 1st, Professor Snape was given the task of escorting Cymopoleia to King's Cross Station, and once they approached Platforms 9 and 10, he matter-of-factly informed her with a solemn visage, that she were to run in between the two platforms in order to appear on the other side. If it weren't for the fact that Professor Snape lacked any form of humor, and probably had no funny bone in his body, Cymopoleia would have laughed in his face.

"I'm sorry… Did you say she has to run right into and collide with a solid barrier?" Triton gaped in aghast, forgetting his grudge with his father's spawn in the moment.

"Oh yes," Hecate nodded matter-of-factly, taking great pleasure in witnessing the appalled expressions on all the Olympians' visage, "There cannot exactly be a train disembarking to Hogwarts where Muggles could all see now, can there? Wizarding transportation cannot be of use due to the Muggle family, and so, the Ministry collectively agreed on an invisible barrier. I do assure you it is quite painless."

"Thank you, Professor Snape, for everything," Cymopoleia beamed, and the harsh stern line on his indifferent mien, combusted at the radiant smile she had bestowed upon him. Snape's sallow face softened slightly and he nodded at her, "Good luck, Miss Potter, I shall see you at Hogwarts, now run along and do not falter."

Acknowledging the kindness behind his brusque words, Cymopoleia grinned and gripped the handle of her trolley firmly; she squared her shoulders and ran like the wind, ignoring her observation of the barrier looking solid and praying to Tyche, the Goddess of Luck, that she would appear on the other side unscathed.

"Well, Tyche would answer a prayer, but she would be able to assist her half-sister if she wasn't hidden from the Gods and Goddesses," Hermes pointed out, staring meaningfully at Aphrodite. Tyche, after all, was Hermes and Aphrodite's daughter, and gladly offered her assistance to each of her Olympian parents' demi-god and demi-goddess children.

Aphrodite huffed haughtily, "What's done is done, Hermes. Let us hope that dear Tyche would answer her prayer and blindly favor her."

"Of that I have no doubt," Rhea interrupted, in case an argument was to occur, "Why, if Ares blessed her, oblivious to her true origins, I don't see why not Tyche wouldn't occasionally come to her aid."

A cacophony of noises filled her eardrums and her sea-green orbs widened perceptibly at the wondrous sight; a scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people, and there was a sign overhead with the words: Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

Cymopoleia completely forgot herself, and didn't notice that she was blocking the barrier as she stared at the scene. She was suddenly shaken from her entranced reverie when a croaky voice addressed her sharply, "I would snap out of it before you get stampeded on by stragglers, Dearie."

Whipping her head around so fast she risked whiplash, Cymopoleia's eyes widened in the direction of the speaker; there was an old-fashioned food stand that didn't look as though it belonged in the platform, and it was occupied by three old ladies, all of whom were sitting in rocking chairs, knitting a huge pair of socks using an electric green yarn.

"NO!" Aphrodite screamed, tugging on her raven strands hysterically.

"By the Gods, No! Anyone but them!" Poseidon implored his sea-green eyes horror-struck.

"Di immortales!" Rhea gasped, interrupting herself, "Why have they appeared to her. Why?!"

Every Olympian stared at the book aghast, knowing that the Fates would only appear to those whose time have reached fruition, or close to ending, and they were all visibly shaken with the new occurrence.

"I-I guess we can clearly comprehend the name of the chapter now," Apollo gulped, his hands shaking nervously.

She oddly noticed that the lady on the right and left were each knitting a sock, while the middle one was holding the large ball of yarn. Slowly, Cymopoleia moved away from the barrier, and reflexively approached them, garnering collectively identical grins from them. The three ladies looked ancient, with their silver hair tied back in a white bandana, wearing matching cottons dresses and had bony arms depicting a frail twig.

"No, Cymopoleia. Stay away from them. Run along to the train," Artemis choked out, clutching her twin's hand in a firm grip. Even though Apollo was in a state of denial, the girl, her cousin, was prophesized to be his soul mate; it was well-known knowledge in mythology and reality that Apollo was unlucky in love, and Artemis deeply hoped that Cymopoleia would defeat the odds stacked against her.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but-, do I know you?" she asked, for each lady were staring at her intently with a knowing glint in their sunken milky eyes.

"Maybe yes," the lady on the right said airily.

"Probably not," the lady on the left added.

"The Morai enjoy their riddles," Zeus groused out; he may respect Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, but it didn't mean the King of Gods favored them in the slightest, for their sudden appearance was always a symbol of bad omen in regards to the perceiver.

"Wait a moment," Athena gasped in cognizance, "Didn't Percy personally meet them two years ago?"

"Yes," Poseidon frowned.

"And he remains with his life intact," Demeter smiled, comprehending Athena's previous observant. Hope ignited in Poseidon and Aphrodite's eyes and they both smiled genuinely at the Goddess of Wisdom, but still, they were frightened for their Little Pearl's future with the arrival of the Morai.

The middle lady then grinned sinisterly as she offered a scissor to the lady on the left, "We on the other hand, dearie, know you."

Feeling an ominous sensation engulf her, Cymopoleia clasped her trolley in a firm grip and offered them a shaky smile, "Uhm, I don't mean to be rude, but I should be going. Don't want to be late and all-"

The lady on the right cut her off abruptly, her hoarse voice turning gratingly rough as she looked right at her, "A child of light, a heart so bright…" The lady on the left continued in the same tone, "She suffers pain, and fights for no gain…" And lastly, the lady on the middle ominously opened her mouth, her milky eyes staring right at her, almost through her, "Yet love is the light through harsh turmoil; friendship and hope are bonding souls." And with those fateful, cataclysmic words, the middle lady took out her scissors, a large gold and silver long bladed one similar to shears, and cut the yarn.

"NO!" nearly every Olympian yelled, for when Atropos cut the yarn, it signified death.

Apollo, the God of Prophecies, frantically uttered, "But that wasn't a prophecy, it can't be. It isn't, I would know!"

"No," Rhea slowly articulated, "They were prophesying Cymopoleia's Fate. Her future. They have already seen her future since they aided in her creation and her evolvement." After all, Rhea was a Titaness, and she had more experiences with the Morai then her children and grandchildren put together.

The chamber echoed with a sense of foreboding, but none uttered a word as they waited nervously for Rhea to continue with her narration.

The resulting snip was foreboding to Cymopoleia, and could be heard over the cacophony of witches and wizards. The three ancient ladies balled up their yarns and gazed at her, unblinkingly. The eleven-year-old suppressed her tremors and strode away from them, ensuring that she kept a wide berth from them, their ominous words echoing in the recess of her mind, and Cymopoleia Venus Potter felt it in her veins, that it was a spoken prediction associated with her.

"Quite astute of her," Athena muttered to herself.

Deciding to place the eccentric occurrence in the back burner, Cymopoleia ensconced herself in an empty compartment by the end of the train and after settling Athene comfortably on the seat beside her, she took out her transfiguration book and immersed herself in it, just as the train disembarked.

An hour into the journey, the door to her compartment slid open and shut with an audible slam, jolting her from all things related to transfiguration. A slim girl, who looked to be the same age as her, was leaning against the closed transparent door, inhaling and exhaling deep breaths rapidly while her hand clutched her chest. Sharpening her gaze on the golden-haired stranger, Cymopoleia took note that she seemed to be frazzled. The girl suddenly glared at Cymopoleia, most probably noticing she wasn't alone and had intruded somebody's compartment.

A pair of glacial cornflower eyes bore a hole into her skull, and Cymopoleia realized that this girl probably deplored the fact that she had seen her less than composed.

She's probably the daughter of a prominent and influential pureblood then, Cymopoleia thought.

"Oh, hopefully she makes a new friend," Hera beamed, clasping hands with Zeus.

Flashing the girl her best radiant, friendly smile, she said, "Umm, hi. Would you like to join me?" and she sincerely hoped this girl would be interested in befriending her since all girls despised her at first glance. But much to the lonely orphan's surprise and delight, the girl gave her a brusque nod and gracefully sat down opposite to her.

"That is my genes running amuck in her," Aphrodite smiled sheepishly.

"Daphne Greengrass," the girl – Daphne regained full composure, and articulated her name courteously in a cool tone.

"Greengrass?" Hecate chirped with a relieved smile, "Thank the Gods. The Greengrass's are a wonderful, loyal and respected wizarding family, though refined and pureblood, they do not share the same ideologies as the bigoted ones. I believe Daphne would make an incredible friend and ally to Cymopoleia."

Poseidon smiled at that, grateful that his Little Pearl would garner a new friend… but most importantly, a true one.

Cymopoleia however, wasn't intimidated and kept her sincere smile plastered on her delicate face, "I'm Leia, well um, Cymopoleia Potter."

Two sculpted golden eyebrows rose, but other than that, she showed no visible emotion at basically barging into the Girl-Who-Lived's compartment, and thankfully, showed zero amount of worshipping and fandom. "Are you really? Well, I'm sorry for my appalling manners."

"Would you-, I mean, if you want to, do you um, want to talk about it?" Cymopoleia asked hesitantly.

Glacial blue eyes scrutinized her for a moment, before she finally relaxed her refined and frigid stance and gave her a genuine smile. Daphne then proceeded to convey what previously ailed her. Apparently, the boy she conversed with in Diagon Alley, Draco Malfoy, had been flirting despicably with her, not allowing her any room for breathing air and loudly made a claim on her, before his stalker, Pansy Parkinson, and betrothed, began tearing Daphne a new one. The poor girl managed to escape their suffocating presence and ducked into her compartment before Draco located her.

"Aren't they a little young for romance," Artemis scoffed in disapproval.

Aghast, Aphrodite snapped, "It is never too early to have romance in life, Artemis." Prompting many eye rolls in response.

Of course, Cymopoleia educated herself in the Pureblood's traditions, and found marriage contracts from birth to be quite barbaric and archaic, but who was she to argue about edicts placed centuries before her birth.

Hecate nodded in pride, "Yes, although the days are changing, marriage contracts had been bestowed since the Founders' days. It is a crucial and archaic tradition in my Pet Project, although not all wizarding families use them nowadays," she informed the curious Olympians.

Aphrodite seemed appalled over the fact that a plethora of children would be forced to marry another, lacking true love for the entirety of their mortal lives.

The two girls spent half an hour in the midst of a friendly debate over wizarding traditions and how dissimilar they were with respect to Muggle ones, when suddenly, the compartment door slid open again and a boy with silky obsidian waves, sparkling sapphire eyes that had a glint of mischief, and an olive complexion appeared.

When a pair of sapphire orbs connected with the golden-haired girl, he let out a sigh of relief and his posture slumped, "Daphne, thank Merlin, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"You wouldn't have had to if you didn't leave me with that ponce Draco and Pansy," Daphne snapped in retaliation, prompting a sheepish expression from the boy, mixed with indignation. "Well excuse me for having the urgent need to use the bathroom, Daph."

Daphne scoffed and the boy finally allowed eye-contact with Cymopoleia, who noted with relief, that her beauty didn't seem to have any effect on him whatsoever. "Oh," Daphne remembered, "Leia, this is my best friend Blaise Zabini. Blaise, this is Cymopoleia Potter."

Feeling protective over his daughter being in close proximity to a male, Poseidon addressed Hecate, "What can you tell us about the Zabini family?"

"They are Grey, just like the Greengrass', and were also neutral in the war. You have no reason to fret over Blaise befriending Cymopoleia," she smiled softly.

Blaise gaped at her for a moment, before smirking and he swaggered over to Daphne's side with an air of confidence and a slight bit of arrogance, "I leave you for five minutes and you've already bagged yourself the Girl-Who-Lived."

"She's not some trinket on display!" Artemis hissed venomously.

Poseidon's sea-green eyes narrowed into slits, but he wisely decided to keep his mouth shut for now.

"Hey!" Cymopoleia bristled, glaring at the handsome eleven-year-old with offense, "I'm not some bloody trophy to be shown on display. If you two are merely sitting with me for the stupid fame, I honestly believe to be bogus, then the door's over there!" she growled and extended a hand toward the door, hiding her hurt. But Blaise merely chuckled, "Relax Leonessa, I didn't mean it as an insult. Draco Malfoy has been ordered by his father to befriend you for underhanded and lesser means, I merely meant it as a coincidence that Daphne stumbled upon you by accident while that tosser is out searching for you."

"He could have worded it better," Poseidon grumbled, "I dislike this Draco person. My daughter is not his to own!" he seethed.

"I agree," Hecate said solemnly, "The Malfoys should be treated with awareness and caution, for they are not to be trifled with and could prove extremely dangerous."

Aphrodite snarled, "I'll curse him if he harms my Little Pearl!"

Taken aback, Cymopoleia felt all she could say was, "Oh." She then glanced at an amused Blaise and arched an eyebrow, "Leonessa?"

Blaise grinned unabashedly, "Sorry, I am from in Italian descent, I get carried away sometimes. Irt means 'Lioness'. You strike me as somebody fierce, not afraid to speak your mind, not one to back down easily especially in a fight, and quite the spitfire. I don't doubt you'll be sorted in the Lion Den like your parents."

Daphne giggled, "So Leia, why don't you tell Blaise here of how your first introduction to Malfoy went." And the three eleven-year-olds spent most of the journey to Hogwarts chattering inanely, and laughing uproariously, and for the first time, Cymopoleia felt optimistic that she had finally made two new friends that would like and accept her for who she was, rather than what the tabloids rumored her to be.

For the third time that day, the compartment door slid open, and Cymopoleia's head shot up, only to see Draco Malfoy and two meaty boys that resembled airheaded baboons standing on either side of him. When silver eyes met sea-green, he stumbled backward in shock and his cheeks blushed a rosy red, "You again, uh, um," he cleared his throat and his posture instantly changed to one of haughty arrogance, "They say that Cymopoleia Potter is in the train. Leia, I'm assuming that's you?"

"Brilliant," Hermes sarcastically commented.

"If he does anything harmful toward her, I'll smite him," Poseidon growled ferociously, garnering many nods of agreement from most of the Gods.

Bringing forward her courage, Cymopoleia squared her shoulders and met his stare head on, "That's right. Can I help you with something?"

Draco's eyes widened at seeing a smug Blaise and a revolted Daphne, and his eyes quickly flickered to Cymopoleia, "I'm here to extend you my hand of friendship, and warn you off from those that lack proper breeding like Mudbloods and blood-traitors. I see you've done well for yourself in meeting Blaise and Daphne, but you can do so much better with me by your side, Potter."

"Who the Styx does he think he is?!" Artemis bellowed, not liking his tone whatsoever.

"My daughter shall be fine without you," Aphrodite sneered, her fists clenching and unclenching with anger.

Rhea shook her head in disapproval, "Such dreadful manners. Tis the fault of his parents for nurturing him in such a bigoted and hateful way."

"Excuse you, Malfoy!" Daphne snarled, shooting up to her feet. Blaise quickly held her wrist firmly in warning, but Cymopoleia, on the other hand, wasn't one that take idle threats and warnings lightly. Cymopoleia was a girl unable to be restrained, especially in the face of bigoted and spoilt little boys who entertain political propaganda relayed by his elders, a boy so shallow he would blindly follow in the despicable footsteps of his father's;

Despite the callous words of the boy, Poseidon felt pride blazing in his veins; his daughter could not be restrained, for that is a trait she inherited from him, making her a true daughter of the Sea, the Princess of Atlantis.

with the combination of Blaise and Daphne's infinite knowledge and her leisure reading, she was up to speed on the First War and those that feigned mind control, such as the Malfoys, the Notts, and the Parkinsons.

"Yes, definitely feigning it," Hecate growled.

Taking a few measured steps toward Malfoy, Cymopoleia sneered, "Thank you for the unneeded hospitality, Malfoy, but I am certain that I require no help from you. I shall befriend whomever I wish, and I don't take lightly to insults upon my person. My mother, the woman who gave me life and sacrificed herself for me to continue on living, was a 'Mudblood' as you so crassly referred. You dare spout of your biased beliefs and insult my mother and then have the audacity to befriend me! Thank you, but no thank you, I would prefer to never call you my friend. Now, leave!"

The Olympians applauded loudly, each of them yelling out words of approval at the way Cymopoleia handled the uncouth boy.

All haughtiness evaporated from the Malfoy Heir's stance. A few pink spots appeared on his alabaster cheeks and he sneered at the gorgeous girl he hadn't been able to get his mind off since meeting her in Diagon Alley, "You've just made a huge mistake. I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly, a threat underlying his tone, "Unless you're a bit politer and a lot more smarter, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either."

"Bastard!"

"How dare he!"

"You dare to insult James and Lily Potter, you inbred shit!" Hecate screeched.

A storm raged outside, and the sea roared dangerously, paired off with a bolt of tremendous lightning; both Zeus and Poseidon were enraged with the Malfoy boy's words and were unable to control their explosive temper.

"Out, Malfoy!" Blaise snarled, his wand pointing at the arrogant blonde, "You know me, and you know my family. Don't make me teach you a lesson, one that would be ingrained into your hollow skull for all of eternity. Now. Get. Out!"

"Good boy!" Poseidon growled, liking Blaise already as he defended his daughter's honor.

Malfoy glared at Blaise with vengeance, and inaudibly gestured for his two goons to leave. Once the compartment door slid shut behind them, Blaise dragged a hand through his hair and shot a worried frown at Cymopoleia, whose face had lost all color, "Leia? You alright?"

"Leia, don't listen to that arrogant ponce. He doesn't know what he's talking about," Daphne reassured her, placing an arm around the frail girl in a move that was so unlike the frigid Greengrass Heiress.

Nodding her head rapidly, Cymopoleia gave them both a weak smile, "Promise me something."

"Depends on what it is," Blaise smirked cunningly.

She let out peals of musical laughter, "Promise me that no matter which house we get sorted into, that we'll remain friends…"

"Of course, promise," Daphne immediately vowed. Blaise grinned boyishly, "You've got yourself a deal, Potter."

"Such remarkable friends," Hera cooed.

"I approve," Poseidon and Aphrodite intoned, pleased with their daughter's phenomenal choice in friends.

The ride went along smoothly after Malfoy's crass interruption. It was getting dark and the train started to slow down. The three first years donned on their Hogwarts uniform, and once the train came to a complete stop, they walked out of the platform, ensuring they stuck together due to the many people pushing their way forward. Cymopoleia shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and she heard a deep, grunting voice boom out, "Firs' years! Firs' year over here!"

The gigantic man with shaggy hair and a hairy face introduced himself as Hagrid before escorting them down the steep, narrow path and onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"Hogwarts is quite splendor," Hecate smiled dreamily, "At times, I like to take a small reprieve and just stare at the magnificent castle."

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water. Cymopoleia, Blaise and Daphne were joined by a chubby boy with tearful brown eyes. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat all to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

There were no words to describe the sensation Cymopoleia was drowning in as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which the castle overhead stood. Cymopoleia stared at the lake as though entranced; a tingling sensation embraced her whole being, and consumed her, one that spoke of a familial sense, which greatly confused the young Potter.

Poseidon was torn between pride and sadness, "She belongs in the sea, her blood calls to it."

"She belongs nowhere, Poseidon!" Amphitrite screamed, having had enough of the spawn, "She's a product of an accident, of adultery!"

"Amphitrite! ENOUGH!" Poseidon boomed, his eyes raging like the tumultuous storm occurring outside, "You are misplacing malice on an innocent child, and I will not tolerate cruelty toward my daughter due to resentment and bitter envy!"

Amphitrite chewed on the inside of her mouth to repress the many expletives she wished to spill. Instead, she focused her malice-filled eyes on Aphrodite, who glared back, not intimidated in the least bit by the spiteful Queen.

Surrounded by the vast lake made her feel a sense of belonging and utter safety, and just as Cymopoleia thought things couldn't get any more weird, a cacophony of gleeful ovation met her ears.

"The Princess has arrived!"

"Princess, the Princess has come!"

Shrieks filled the air from a myriad of students as the water rippled and a gigantic squid appeared, rushing over to Cymopoleia's frozen form. Hagrid chuckled and boomed out over the plethora of screams, "Not to worry. Tha's only tha giant squid, he's qui'et friendly."

"Something weird is going on here," Cymopoleia mumbled to Daphne and Blaise, both of whom had their widened eyes trained on the giant squid, who was currently waving one jelly tentacle at her in greeting.

"What a sight it must be," Demeter chuckled.

"No matter. Even though I hid her divine heritage, creatures of the sea would always sense and recognize her," Hecate spoke up.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid called out to the chubby boy sharing their boat, and he blissfully cried out, "Trevor!" just as they landed onto the smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. Once Hagrid ensured the first years were all congregated together, he raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door. It swung open at once and Cymopoleia beamed at the familiar face of Professor McGonagall, the kind yet stern witch that defended her and came to her aid.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid politely informed her; after the kind giant left, Professor McGonagall began a hearty diatribe about the four Houses and the school's policy, especially the point system. After a swift meeting with a horde of transparent ghosts arguing, Professor McGonagall led them into the Great Hall.

"Ah, ghosts. Those that fear entering my domain," Hades grinned darkly. He had given Hecate permission to those that fear death and choose for their essence to remain behind instead of being judged in the Underworld by the Judgment Pavilion. Although the abominable mortals had no choice; those that sinned greatly in their life would have no choice but to suffer in the Fields of Punishment or the Fields of Asphodel.

"You have a dark humor, Uncle," Hermes muttered with a shiver.

The Hall was magnificent; it was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting, and Cymopoleia grinned at the familiar faces of Dumbledore and Snape, both of whom were gazing right back at her.

Daphne nudged her softly, "Leia, look up!"

Her cherubic face morphed into one of utter awe, her sea-green eyes widening at such a marvelous and enthralling sight; instead of a plain ceiling, she saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars … Itwasmostmagical.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History," a bossy voice spoke up, and Cymopoleia saw that the voice belonged to a girl with bushy brown hair resembling a rat's nest, and very large front teeth.

Aphrodite shivered at the child's description, "Hmm, definitely not blessed by me."

Ignoring the shallowness of Aphrodite, Athena spoke up in awe, "I am interested in understanding the machinations of that wondrous ceiling. It is quite a marvel!"

Hecate smiled in understanding to Athena's thirst for knowledge, and appreciation of its intricate casting, "Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin worked tirelessly together to create the ceiling. In over a thousand years it remains standing due to the castle's impeccable wards."

Suddenly, all the attention was focused on a patched and frayed pointed wizard's hat that Professor McGonagall gently placed on a four-legged stool, and the rebel in Cymopoleia desperately desired to smuggle it into Privet Drive, where Aunt Petunia would surely have an epileptic fit.

Hermes had an infectious grin on his mien, "Ah, it seems my cousin follows after me in terms of mischief making and creating havoc."

"Oh Gods help me," Aphrodite groaned, but Poseidon was as thrilled as Hermes at their recent discovery.

"Quite the rebellious little deity, isn't she?" Zeus chuckled.

After a few moments of silence, a rip near the brim opened like a mouth and the hat – much to her astonishment – sang!

"Why am I not surprised. Naturally; talking hats," Apollo muttered sarcastically.

Hecate beamed, "The Sorting Hat was creating by Godric Gryffindor to sort the children fairly."

The whole hall burst into applause once the hat finished its song, and after it bowed to each of the four tables, it became quite still again. Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment and as she called out, "Abbot, Hannah," Cymopoleia felt an excited chill run down her spine, and she began bouncing on the tip of her toes, much to her new friends' amusement.

On and on the list went, until finally, "Greengrass, Daphne," was sorted into Slytherin almost instantly. A few names later, Cymopoleia's name was called.

"Potter, Cymopoleia!"

The Olympians all leaned forward in anticipation, curious to which House Cymopoleia would get sorted into.

As she stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall and it took most of Cymopoleia's will-power to not roll her eyes at their rudeness. The last thing she saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her, and the next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat.

"Oh, my! By the Founders! I have never in all my life as the Sorting Hat encountered one of divine descent! Fully-blooded divinity as well, and oh…? Recently blessed by war, oh my."

Before any complaints could reach her ears, Hecate spoke up, "The Hat will never reveal a word of what he saw in her mind; he is forbidden and created by Godric not to. I did not hide her from the Hat so that he could sort her appropriately."

Cymopoleia frowned in confusion recognizing the hat's words to resemble Ollivander's speech.

"You are in the dark. Don't worry Miss Potter, or shall I say, Miss Olympus, the time will come and you will return home. My, my, you have quite impressive traits, qualities the Founders themselves would kill for."

"What are you talking about?" Cymopoleia hissed, dumbfounded.

"Never mind, young Deity, it isn't your time to know. I know exactly where to put you, in the House of the Brave, much like your father. Let it be…. GRYFFINDOR!"

Poseidon beamed brightly, pride consuming him, "Of course, my children are all brave, and therefore belongs in the House of valor."

Aphrodite wept with pride and Hecate softly said, "I believe that the other three houses would suit her, though none more than the Lion Den. Congratulations Poseidon and Affie. Cymopoleia will do you proud."

And although Cymopoleia was vehemently confused, she beamed brightly and dashed over to the red and gold table that was all in tumultuous uproar. She didn't even notice that she received the loudest cheer yet in her confusion, and found a seat opposite to two redheaded twins, both of whom reeked of mischief and mayhem.

Hermes grinned at that, since they reminded him vehemently of his mischievous sons at Camp Halfblood.

"They remind me of your Stoll twins, Hermes," Apollo laughed, thinking amongst the same lines.

Cymopoleia Venus Potter smiled sadly when Blaise joined Daphne in the Slytherin table, but when she thought over their previous promise in the train, it morphed into a genuine smile, knowing that even though they were in opposing houses, they would still remain friends. The thought cemented further when Daphne waved vigorously at her and Blaise winked, subtly portraying that they wouldn't abandon her.

Hecate smiled, "I cannot wait to read the reactions of the rest of the school. Gryffindor and Slytherin have a huge enmity and haven't gotten along in over a century."

"Well," Rhea closed the book, "Cymopoleia would achieve the impossible, of that I am sure. Now, who would like to read next?"

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

I completely adore Dumbledore and couldn't help but portray him as the kind grandfatherly figure. So, Cymopoleia will not be returning to the Dursleys, hmm… I wonder where she will live… ;)

The Golden Trio is Cymopoleia, Blaise and Daphne! I hope you are pleased with it! I know that Daphne and Tracey Davis are commonly known as best friends, but most of my other stories depict it that way, and I thought I would change it in this story. Ron and Hermione will be introduced next chapter…

I didn't stress on the sorting because I am trying to diverge from canon, and the sorting isn't very opinion (except for Cymopoleia). Also; in canon and most Harry Potter fanfictions, Hermione, Ron and Neville always seem to stop by a Potter's compartment, so I decided to change things and have their first meeting occur in Hogwarts.

Who saw Cymopoleia stumbling upon the Fates coming? …No one? XD

R&R.