HELLO PEOPLE OF EARTH

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter or Percy Jackson series characters that was mentioned in this story that you recognize. If it di then Sirius and Remus would be alive and Dumbledore would be more manipulative.

Warning: Dumbledorebashing, Ronbashing (may be more), rating may go up.

Pairings: Undecided yet (I would apperciate some suggestions)

Prologue

Somewhere

Three old women sat by a fire in a cave. Clotho, the one to the north of the fire sat spinning a ball of yarn. Lachesis, the one to the west of the fire sat arranging their already mad yarn and handing them across the fire, to Atropos, the one to the east, who was sniping the yarn and watching the color fade from the yarn as it *died*. Together, they made up the Moirai, the Fates.

The fates were bored. In the ancient times, they got to mess with foolish Greek demigods, and their many descendants, and worshipers. Now they were reduced to sitting in a cave somewhere, waiting for some random demigod or god to seek their device or giving prophecies that turned out to be no fun. Plus heroes hardly ever came to them; they would always seek out Apollo or someone else. The fates haven't had that much fun for some time. The soft whirling of Clotho's wool spinner, the ruffling of the yarn, the sniping of the yarn, the crackling of the fire, and the soft chanting of their prophecy were the only sounds heard now.

A half-blood shall answer our call

Born of a legacy, first of the two

Born as the seventh month dies

Marked as the dark lord's equal but equal they aren't

Born of the Lilium's light

Hurt at the heart but finds light in the dark, joining the flight of death

User of magic power of grey

Love shall be the gain

The sound of Clotho's wool spinner and the chanting stopped abruptly. Clotho stared at the wool intently before a smile graced her face; she showed the wool to her sister and watched as they too started to grow smiles on their face. Together they put away what they were doing and flashed away to the owner of the yarn.

Potter Manor, England

A flash of bright light appeared in the nursery of the potter manor as the Moirai landed at their destination. It was a cozy old with a trace of residue magic normally found in houses of wizards and witches. Noticing two cribs in a corner of the room the three fates walked over to the crib. Ignoring the red-haired boy instead for the black haired one that carried the faint scent of death, they inspected him. The boy's eyes flutter open as the Moirai inspected him, showing the fates his piercing emerald green eyes, full of intelligence. The boys choose not to cry as if he knew they were coming. The Moirai took a look into his future, deciding that he was the one of their prophecy.

Summoning the yarn to bind his life to it, as they do to all the other something happened. The yarn latched onto the clild and turned golden signaling the legacy of the immortals. The fates watched in interest as the child's golden flecked demigod blood turned the golden ichor of the immortals. A mark appeared on his cheast, a triangle

A/n can you guess what god Harry is the son of.

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