A/N:
So, someone asked why Harry was so good at stealing, and, on a scale of 1 to 100 (1 being an average person, 50 being normal Hermes Demigods, and 100 being Hermes) where Harry was on the Thief Scale, and guessed they were 90 or more, and asked why I made Harry that way?
My response is this:
Harry is about a 90, yes, but that's not because of his Hermes attributes, but because of his Luck Blessing mixing in with his Hermes Attributes as well as his Vulcan Tributes and his Magic Blessing.
That's a lot of magic in one young boy, who has had to be self-sufficient, crafty, and street-smart a majority of his life in order to survive in the toxic environment that is the Dursley Household.
So, his Luck made him better at getting away or finding things, as well as giving him a Safe Haven to hide in. (Unfortunately giving him the bad luck of things like Harry Hunting, the Cupboard, lack of steady food, and other such things)
His Magic made it so that no doors could remain locked and helped him hide things. (Unfortunately also giving him obvious, attention-gathering bursts of Emotion-Fueled Accidental Magic and tiring him out extensively after each use)
His Hermes Attributes made it easier for him to steal things and find the things he could steal (Unfortunately also giving him a compulsion to steal and an inability to NOT steal, as well as the unfortunate habit of not even knowing when he's stolen something, and making him ignore danger signs when something's really caught his eye. (Fatal Demigod Flaw))
His Vulcan Attributes made it easier for him to spot important, practical things he could use, and identify the best way to use them. (Unfortunately giving him a compulsory need to make or fix things when he found them or was alone with them, though he fortunately would not be disturbed during the process, afterwards he was free game)
So, as you can see, he's not a 90 just because of his Hermes Kid Status.
Enjoy the chapter! ^-^
Metal Wings
Chapter Six
Harry had expected, maybe, a bit of flare and dramatic fire when he sacrificed that ugly yellow cup to his Uncle Hades in the safety of his Safe Haven.
He hadn't expected a huge Earthquake to shake the entire UK, and for his Uncle to rise up out of the ground, platinum eyes glowing with rage out of a marble face, the baying of his massive Cerberus echoing out of his footsteps as he stalked towards the wide-eyed, cowering Harry, who was praying desperately that his Uncle didn't let him be buried alive by the ominously shaking Haven.
"Where," Hades began, his Godly Voice making Harry cry out and crumble to his knee's, like an eroded mountain top crumbles during a quake. "Did you get that cup?!"
"The Bank!" Harry wailed, clutching at his head and shrinking down as small as he could, choking as his head screamed. "Gringotts! Stole it! Sorry, Uncle!" He cried, curling up tightly, even as the world suddenly went unnaturally still, as if it was holding his breath, the only sound in the Haven Harry's gasping sobs as he remained curled tightly on the ground.
As the pain in his head was finally beginning to quiet down, a low, rumbling chuckle began, and Harry slowly, weakly, lifted his aching head, face smeared with soot from his Haven, and tears from his terrified pain, to stare blurrily at his soon guffawing Uncle. He was quickly mesmerized, as Hades previously frigid, rigged, and stand-offish appearance warmed with delighted hilarity. His platinum eyes glowed warmly, his marble-cold face warmed like well-polished copper, and the Earth seemed to sigh and relax from its previous tension. Slowly, sniffling uncertainly, Harry sat up, using his dirty, over-large shirt to wipe his face off as Hades' laughter calmed into chuckles, glowing eyes returning to his normal slate-gray, and the shadows that had encompassed him, returned to his punk attired, silver chains tinkling merrily as he summoned a black, throne-like chain out of the Shadows and perched in it, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees to smirk at Harry in honest amusement.
"Tell me, Great Nephew," he coaxed, waving his hand and impatiently urging Harry back to his feet, which Harry obeyed, sniffling still. "Do you know what that cup was?" Wiping his nose, Harry shook his head, and Hades impatiently summoned the eleven-year-olds chair over, all but knocking the startled boy into sitting, with a yelp, before the wheelie chair abruptly zoomed over to stop in front of Hades, who leaned forward into Harry's face ominously, but still smiling, and Harry swallowed heavily, eyes huge.
"It was another piece of Tom Marvolo Riddle, little Demigod," the God breathed into Harry's face, his breath smelling like freshly turned earth and the copper of pennies. "And I want you to tell me, exactly, where you found it, hmm?" He leaned in closer and, staring into those slate-gray eyes, which were beginning to grow lighter ominously despite the still smiling face that held them, Harry shakily obeyed, pressing back into his chair fearfully.
Quickly, he told his Uncle of his trip to Gringotts, the break-in, being left alone, and his quick "exploration" of all nearby Vaults, thanks to the handiness of his flying shoes. Hades listened keenly, smiling still even as the glow in his eyes slowly returned to normal, and, when Harry was awkwardly finished, the God sat back in his chair and chuckled again.
"I have never had such an interesting relative out of my Nephew," the God told him, highly amused.
"Thanks...?" Harry offered uncertainly; Hades chucked and patted him on the cheek roughly, before, with a sudden, odd expression, like he was about to sneeze, Hades changed.
His face became clean-shaven, his hair morphing into a military cut, with the hair on top spiking despite its almost greasy appearance. His outfit transformed into a sleek black suit with a tombstone-gray undershirt, a black and platinum tie resting on his chest. His slate-gray eyes turned into a charcoal-grey, and his features sharpened even as they rounded slightly. His mouth set in a stern line, the God sat back, spine straight even as he rested his right ankle on his left knee and set his calmly folded hands on his right thigh.
"..." The newly-transformed God stared at Harry shrewdly for several minutes, and Harry felt himself go very still, shoulders straightening under that considering look, and met his stare head on in challenge, still nervous despite narrowing his bright green eyes in return.
"Greetings, Son of Mercury's Other Aspect," the man greeted coolly, voice deeper than Hades had been, reminding Harry of the steady, vibrating beat of army boots meeting the ground.
"Um... Greetings, Uncle Hade's... Other... Aspect?" Harry managed, utterly flummoxed, and blinked as the strange God's lips twitched up faintly for a millisecond.
"Pluto," He replied, charcoal-grey eyes narrowing faintly as he looked over Harry's appearance. "You are a Potter, correct?" He asked; Harry blinked uncertainly, and nodded.
"The last of them, um, Lord Pluto," Harry informed him uncertainly; Lord Pluto hummed, and rose from his seat, causing Harry to immediately stand as well, his hands going behind his back without thought as he stood tall and straight, eyes widening slightly at the instinctive, thoughtless movement. Lord Pluto hummed again, this time in a mildly-pleased way as those dark eyes regarded Harry for a second, before he turned away, his own hands sliding behind his back to clasp as he turned and stalked gracefully towards Harry's work table, to peer at and examine the eleven-year-olds many projects and experiments. He examined the lights, the do-dads and pieces of stolen electronics that Harry was turning into other things, and nodded faintly to himself.
"You are all that remains of my Nephew's Demigod son, Charlus Potter," Pluto informed Harry, who hadn't been able to force himself to move quite yet, stuck standing straight and stiff in front of his chair. The God picked up the small crystal statue of the three-headed snake Harry had stolen from his Dad, admiring it closely, before carefully setting it down. "He was rather pleased with Charlus, but his son, James, your Father, left my Nephew rather... Disappointed." Pluto turned and stalked back over to Harry, circling him with a sharp, considering eye, and Harry found himself nearly desperate to not disappoint this God. Pluto hummed, standing in front of Harry, all but towering over the eleven-year-old with an aloof, stern expression. With a hum, Pluto gracefully re-took his seat, but Harry remained standing, something in his head telling him he didn't have permission to sit yet, and so he got to see that faint, upward twitch of the God's lips again, and those eyes gleam with mild approval.
"I do believe, Great Nephew," the God commented calmly, leaning back with an air of approval, "that he would be pleased with you. I shall see that he is made aware of you and your... Situation," he murmured, eying the soot-blackened wood around them with mild distaste, before glancing at Harry once more. "At ease, Great Nephew," he ordered before, with another about-to-sneeze-expression, he transformed back into Hades, who huffed as he slouched in the chair with a faint pout, but Harry felt himself fully relax, letting out a relieved breath as he fell back into his chair.
"I hate it when he does that," Hades muttered, before shaking his head and standing, his shadow-throne dissolving neatly as the God tugged his punk-attire back into order, chains tinkling with what seemed like frustrated resignation, before those familiar slate-grey eyes glared faintly at Harry, who blinked up at the God tiredly, honestly exhausted from so many emotional upheavals of the day. "Well, it was a nice visit, Great Nephew," Hades drawled, scoffing faintly before, with a nonchalant wave of his hand, he disappeared back to the Underworld, sinking into the shadows dramatically...
Along with every spot of soot in the entire room.
"Wow," Harry muttered, eyes wide as he looked around at the much brighter room with wonder, before shaking his head and pushing his wheelie chair back over to his desk, pulling his stolen Satchel out from under it, and digging inside, pulling out random bits and bobs he'd stolen on his two trips through London, and pulling the "Broken" mixer from Number Two and the cracked cellphone from Number Eight close, so he could begin trying to make a voice-activated mixer, which he'd try to incorporate for potions (Why should he have to watch a potion that needed to be stirred specifically every so often, when he could pre-set something to do it for him?).
As he got to work, he pushed the fact that the Gods had MPD from his mind, and focused on his project.
A/N: Short, yes, no cares to give.
Also, this is how I always pictured the Gods and their Aspects, as a form of Multiple Personality Disorder (Yes, I know the politically correct diagnosis is DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) but I don't care)
Special Apologies/Thanks to Reviewer ElectraX12 about the misspelled/missused Greek. I have to use Google Translate, so my bad!
^-^'
Heh heh...
Review!