When you lived with people as audaciously, gut-wrenchingly, boringly normal as the Dursleys during the summer, you learned to look upon even simple things like a trip to the airport as an opportunity for adventure. Even if you were just picking up Uncle Vernon from the airport and were almost certainly going to be treated to the War & Peace of sermons about the Semi-Annual Toolsellers' Convention on the way home.

At 13, Harry had never flown on a plane, but the sight & sounds of the jets at London Heathrow provided a welcome break from the monotony of Privet Drive. While Aunt Petunia checked the flight arrivals, Dudley and Harry sat and watched the bustle of the terminal while the loud, cheerful automatic voices echoed reminders to the patrons not to leave their bags unattended.

Eventually, they heard the click-clack of Aunt Petunia's heels approaching, and it was evident from the manner of the click-clacking that she was highly irritated.

Oh, great, Harry thought as his aunt got close enough for him to see the lemon-pinch mouth and her narrowed eyes.

Dudley yawned, scratching himself.

"Can't we go home now? Where's Dad?"

"His flight's been delayed, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia. "He isn't scheduled to come in for another hour at least." She sniffed. "The nerve of these people, to think they can sell you a ticket at such an outrageous price and then simply leave whenever they please!"

"But I wanna go!" Dudley groaned, his voice rising in volume as Harry quickly scooted even further away from him. "This is boring! I'm hungry!"

"It's alright, Duddykins. Mummy will buy you something at the restaurant to tide you over," Aunt Petunia cut in quickly. She took Dudley's massive hand in her thin bony one and looked pointedly at Harry.

"Don't move from this spot! Do you hear me?"

Harry nodded, not even bothering to look up.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" his aunt snapped. "Stay right here. If you wander off and can't find your way back, I'm not about to come looking for you. You might very well be left behind if Vernon came back before you did."

Harry decided the safest option would be to nod once again, since he didn't trust himself not to snap right back if he were to open his mouth. He watched as his aunt clicked off down the hallway with Dudley lumbering along beside her and let out a breath.

Finally.

Alone at last, Harry got up to stretch his legs, and glancing over his shoulder, immediately had to leap out of the way to avoid being mowed down by an American Eagle Pilot in uniform.

Regaining his balance, Harry was just thinking he'd go and explore the duty-free shop for bit when—

"Out of my way, punk!"

A hand roughly grabbed Harry's shoulder and forced him to the right before its owner barreled on past. This time, Harry was caught by surprise; he tripped over his own feet and tumbled sideways. Landing hard on the terminal floor, he scrambled into a sitting position, one hand instinctively reaching for the wand that was under the loose floorboard in his bedroom. Looking after his assailant, he saw that the hand belonged to a tall, tanned, burlesque girl with a stringy brown ponytail, wearing—

What in the name of Merlin's saggy left—?!

Unless Harry's eyes were deceiving him, she looked like she had just emerged from the movie Spartacus; she wore metal armor overtop her jeans and t-shirt, and she was soaking wet; Harry's shirt was damp where she'd gripped him.

Suddenly, Harry saw two more people jogging towards him, also damp—a blonde girl and a skinny boy who looked about his age. They appeared to be chasing the pushy girl, but as they approached him, the girl stopped.

"Gosh, are you okay?" she asked, and then called out, "Clarisse, wait up!"

"Not gonna wait, princess!" came the girl's voice from fifty feet beyond. "It wasn't my idea to ride those stupid Hippocampi; they take a wrong turn, and all of a sudden we're all the way across the ocean. I'm not about to let this prevent me from finishing my quest!"

"Isn't it really our quest now?" the boy muttered as he jogged up beside the girl. She just rolled her eyes like a pro before muttering right back,

"Just let her go, seaweed brain. All that matters is that she gets that fleece back to camp in time," and she promptly stuck out a hand to help Harry up.

Harry took it, mumbling an awkward, "Thanks," not at all sure who these strange people were. They were dressed more normally than the pushy girl, but still, something about this situation was the furthest possible thing from normal.

Kind of like him.

"No problem," the girl said. "I'm Annabeth. Annabeth Chase. And this—" she indicated the boy beside her, shifting in a nervous sort of way—"is Percy." She held out her hand to Harry, this time to shake instead of to help.

Harry shook her hand, and introduced himself.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

He stopped, mouth open, completely unsure of where to take the conversation. I mean, where in the word do you take a conversation that began as a result of being strong-armed by a female gladiator and you were now facing two people who looked as though they had just been standing outside in a hurricane? Naturally, the first thing that popped into Harry's head ended up tumbling out of his mouth.

"Seaweed brain?"

"Long story." Annabeth smiled tiredly,

"Um…" Harry couldn't help but smile back, partially because he was imagining what Aunt Petunia would say if she came back to find him in such company, and partially because he felt an inexplicable kinship of abnormality with these two.

"I'm gonna go grab some water," Annabeth said suddenly. "Wait here for me, okay, Percy?" She hurried off, though Harry would have thought they'd had their fill of water, from their soggy clothes.

"I'm sorry about Clarisse," Percy said, as he sat down on the bench Harry had originally vacated, and Harry looked around to see Ms. Gladiator barreling her way to the self-check-in kiosks. "She's…on a mission."

"Yeah, I thought so," Harry replied, attempting to sound like his throbbing shoulder was no big deal whatsoever as he joined Percy. "What's with her outfit?"

"Um…"—Percy grinned in spite of his nervousness—"…it's a long story."

After a pause, he added, "A really long story."

"Have you ever flown before?" Harry asked, wondering if he could get a firsthand account of a Muggle airplane in order to give Mr. Weasley the download.

"No." Percy snorted, as though very idea of him ever flying was absolutely ludicrous; his eyes began to dart around the terminal once again.

"You okay?" Harry said, suppressing his own urge to laugh at his sudden mental juxtaposition of prim-and-proper, haughty Percy Weasley beside this skinny, damp, jumpy, and yet friendly counterpart.

"Yeah," Percy lied. "I have, um, ADHD, y'know; I can't really ever sit still. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm fine."

"No, I mean—have you ever flown before?"

"Oh, yeah! Never on a plane, I mean, my aunt and uncle barely ever go anywhere, and anyway, they'd never pay for me to get a ticket," Harry laughed, "But I don't care, a Nimbus Two Thousand has got to be a thousand times better of a ride than any—"

Harry froze.

Bl**** h***. I didn't actually say that, did I?

"Huh?" Percy was confused.

I did say it!—

"What's a Nimbus Two Thousand?"

—How the h*** did I get it into my head that I was talking to a wizard!?—

"Oh, it's—it's the, the name of my—!" Harry floundered for an excuse; he unconsciously swept his sweaty fringe back from his forehead.

For a second, he wondered what Percy was staring at, and then he realized.

"By the gods—!" Percy said suddenly.

"Huh?" That was certainly the first time Harry had ever heard someone use that expression. He hurriedly smoothed his hair forward.

Just then, Annabeth returned from the water fountain.

"Percy? What's going on?"

"Annabeth—" Percy pointed to Harry's forehead.

"What?" she said.

"He's got a scar—shaped like a lightning bolt! I think—I think he's one of us!"

Annabeth stopped dead.

"Aren't you?" Percy appealed to Harry.

"What are you talking about?"

"Shut up, Seaweed Brain!" Annabeth snapped. "If he's a son of Zeus—"

"Come on; Harry can't possibly be a threat, he's way too nice, and anyway, I don't even think he knows what he is!"

"Still, remember the old saying, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer?' He could technically be bluffing. But that's not the point. I don't think Harry's a threat either, but think of him! I doubt Zeus would be pleased if he knew one of his sons was consorting with a son of Poseidon!" Annabeth asserted, gesturing madly.

Harry was left speechless, completely nonplussed and more than slightly alarmed.

"Poseidon? Zeus?"

"You're a demigod," Annabeth said. "You know the ancient Greek gods? Well, they not only still exist, but they're still having children today. I'm a daughter of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, and Percy is a son of Poseidon, god of the sea. With that scar, like lightning—we're guessing you're a son of Zeus, but you won't know unless and until your Dad decides to claim you," Annabeth said in a rapid-fire voice. "For now, the most important thing is for you to come back to Camp Half-Blood with us where you'll be safe. Percy, would you stop fidgeting!?"

"I can't help it! The god of the sky hates me and I'm in an airport! What do you expect?"

More to look for an escape route than for any other reason, Harry glanced behind him once again, where Clarisse appeared to have finally gotten through the check-in lines and was now approaching the arrivals board, where she began to push her way through the crowd. Harry didn't know how she was going to see past the hat of the captain standing right in front—

Wait. The same captain?

How long could it possibly take to check the time of one's flight?

As Clarisse continued to push her way closer, the captain turned his head to the side, and Harry saw the wicked glint in his eye as though through a telescope. His sixth sense, the one that warned him of impending and quite possibly fatal danger, suddenly stabbed his gut like a spear.

"LOOK OUT!" he bellowed across the terminal to Clarisse, but perhaps that was a mistake, because as Clarisse turned back, having apparently heard his shouted warning, the pilot turned around as well; his hat fell off as his face was elongating into a cruel beak like the blade of a scythe. As Clarisse whirled back around and scrambled backward, the sleeves of the captain's uniform ripped to shreds. Enormous feathered wings rose where his arms once were; his legs lenthened, feet giving way to scaly talons, each glinting like razor-sharp onyx—

"The Caucasian Eagle!" Annabeth yelled as the terminal became a mob scene; she, Percy, and Harry all began to sprint through panicking crowds to Clarisse's aid.

"The what!?" Harry yelled again.

"I think it ate Prometheus!" Percy yelled as they ran; Annabeth reached into a quiver hidden beneath her shorts to pull out a bronze knife. Percy and Harry simultaneously plunged their hands into their pockets; Percy drew out an ordinary ink pen, which, if Harry had had the leisure at that moment to think, he would have wondered how on earth it could help.

Percy whipped the cap off, and suddenly the writing utensil transformed into a gleaming sword. Absorbed in the moment, Harry suddenly realized that his hand was gripping something.

His wand.

He had no idea how it got there, but all the same he drew it. As he ran, he pointed his wand ahead of him. Clarisse, who was weaponless, was attempting to duck and weave as the Eagle slashed the air where a moment before she had been standing, screeching; clearly it desired nothing more than to slice her like meat at a deli.

Buffeted by panicking travellers, Harry couldn't get a proper aim. He turned to look at Annabeth—but she was nowhere to be found.

"Annabeth?" he yelled, but his attention was suddenly brought back to the scene before him as Clarisse she began hurling passengers' abandoned suitcases at the Eagle with the huge muscles Harry's shoulder remembered. It screeched louder than ever, beating the luggage away with its giant wings as though they were ping-pong balls, continually advancing.

Harry and Percy forced their way through the last panicking patrons just in time to see the monster lunge, and Clarisse only managed to escape its kill-ready beak by diving behind the nearby customer service desk. The Eagle then aimed to shove its beak behind the desk, but out of absolutely nowhere, or so it seemed to Harry, a long, deep gash suddenly appeared across its chest, spilling black blood. The Eagle shrieked and with a swipe of its wing, knocked the desk clean over. Suddenly Annabeth appeared in midair as a blue Yankees cap blew off her head; her bloodstained bronze knife stained went flying. She slammed hard into the floor and lay still as the hat fluttered to the floor beside her; the Eagle turned its cruel eye on her, raising its talon like a blade—

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Eagle; a jet of red light shot from the end of his wand and struck the monster squarely on its wounded chest.

The Eagle let out a deafening shriek, then rose into the air, its chest feathers smoking where the spell had struck, its tarlike blood spattering the floor.

"Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Petrificus totalus!" Harry was yelling whatever spell popped into his head, sending them streaming at the Eagle, but it maneuvered around most of them, and the ones that managed to hit it did next to no damage. Percy raised Riptide as he and Harry backed away, and the monster flew straight at the two of them.

"Watch out!" Percy bellowed. He and Harry each dove to one side. Harry threw his arms over his head; the draft from the Eagle's wings roared in his ears as it swooped down precisely where they had been standing two seconds earlier. He continued to roll to the left, attempting to put as much distance between him and the monster and possible, but suddenly he ran into something; he risked a glance behind him and saw he'd hit an escalator. He scrambled to his feet, but apparently the Eagle had decided to go after Percy, who was now cornered by a wall of elevators. Percy frantically reached behind him for the elevator buttons, his other hand still gripping Riptide and swinging wildly at the monster.

Suddenly, Clarisse and Annabeth barreled out of nowhere, Annabeth pushing Clarisse, standing in an airport wheelchair and wielding a metal rod. As Clarisse drove its end into the Eagle's side, the monster whirled about, sending Percy's sword flying and taking a viscous swipe at their makeshift battering ram. The metal rod snapped as if it were a toy, and Clarisse and Annabeth tumbled, but all Harry saw, as if in slow motion, was Riptide as it soared into the air. In his mind, a thick troll's club suddenly took its place as a vision from his first year at Hogwarts flashed through his brain; he aimed his wand as best he could and bellowed,

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

As the Eagle swiped at Annabeth and Clarisse, Harry brought his wand arm around in a huge swing; Riptide changed direction and he sent it flying, where it plunged straight into the Eagle's side.

A horrible, drawn-out, piercing scream sliced the air like a knife. Before Harry's eyes the Eagle disintegrated into dust, sending up a terrific cloud that enveloped them all.

After a moment, coughing, Harry stumbled towards his friends. Like him, they were all sweaty and breathing rapidly.

"Are you all okay!?"

"I'm fine," Percy called shakily. "Annabeth, are you—?"

"Yeah." She replied, though Harry noticed that she had a lump the size of an egg on the back of her head.

"Um—Clarisse?..." Harry inquired tentatively, wiping off his glasses.

Clarisse snorted. "Of course. You punks might not be used to this sort of thing, but I'm a daughter of Ares."

Harry figured that was the friendliest reply he'd ever get from her, and he turned instead to Percy.

"I'm sorry about your sword."

"Naw, it's okay. It'll reappear in my pocket after a few minutes," Percy said, and sure enough, when he put his hand into his pocket, he came up with the same ink pen Harry had seen earlier. "But—what's that?" he asked, gesturing wide-eyed to Harry's wand.

Harry opened his mouth, then just as soon closed it. From what he could tell, they all had some serious explaining to do. For now, he settled with,

"It's…kind of a long story."

Oh, well. Who cared if he breached the International Statute of Secrecy just a little more? He definitely owed them an explanation. Suddenly Harry wondered if Aunt Petunia and Dudley were still in the airport restaurant, and he smiled.

"Wanna go and get a burger?"