Prologue

A/N: Welcome to our new story. This is actually the first co-wirtten work between EmeraldGuardian7 and Shadowz101. We had been talking for the while and just couldn't get the idea for a Harry Potter & Percy Jackson crossover out of our head. This here is the prologue and the first chapter should be following soon. After that we aim to update bi-weekly. At the moment we do have several chapters stored up and ready to go but we are still writing. We hope you enjoy this and please leave us your thoughts in the reviews.

With a faint pop and a small twist in the fabric of reality, a tall cloaked figure appeared in the shadows of a small street. Taking a second to observe his surroundings, the figure stepped away from where he appeared and onto the pavement. It was dark out, the sun having set hours before and yet the neighbourhood was still alive with the laughter of children as they scurried around in all manner of strange costumes.

It would be a strange sight if it were not Halloween. To most, it is a holiday for children. The one day a year where you can dress up in funny costumes, decorate your house, eat lots of candy, and even traverse the dark streets long after you would normally be snug in your bed. To others, it means something much different. That's not to say it's an inaccurate description by any means but, just that many do not remember the darker more ancient connotations of this famous festival.

That being said, there are still many forces in the world aware of its true origins. The first people ever recorded to celebrate Halloween were the Celts. They called this day Samhain. To them, it marked the end of their summer and harvest seasons, leading into the cold depths of winter, but that wasn't all. It was also known as the day where the walls between our world and the afterlife were at their thinnest. The very festival they created was used as a primitive ritual to protect themselves from the inhuman monsters that go bump in the night. There's something ironic to be said that humanities answer to the threat of monsters was dawning the faces of those monsters themselves.

It wasn't just the closeness of the underworld that made Samhain special but also how magic itself seemed more dense. The realm of the gods also moved closer this night, not quite comparable to the Summer or Winter Solstices, but definitely closer than usual. That's what made the events that were about to happen this night so very important. Important enough to attract the attention of those very gods themselves.

The sudden fluttering of wings and a loud caw were heard by the strange figure that was now heading down the road he'd appeared on. The man, for he was a man, despite the many inhuman atrocities he'd committed, glanced upward at the noise, dismissing the sight of the large crow the moment he saw it. He knew many were superstitious about those birds and the supposed bad luck they brought, but he didn't buy into that nonsense. It was just a bird, nothing more. The great Lord Voldemort would not be cowed by something so lowly and insignificant as fear, for he was the only true immortal in this world. Continuing on his way, the dark wizard didn't notice how the large bird's beady eyes continued to track him.

"Nice costume Mister!" A small voice called up to the tall figure as he passed, causing him to freeze in place. Being as short as the child was, he had seen a glimpse under the Dark Lord's hood, assuming that his unnaturally pale skin and snakelike visage was an elaborate effect created by makeup.

He turned his red reptilian eyes on the young child, his hand twitching towards where his yew wand was stowed. He'd never liked children, even when he'd been one himself. Their crying in the orphanage had grated on his nerves even way back then. He had no reason to kill the child in front of him. In fact, he'd get no benefit from it at all, but he couldn't help but want to anyway. It would be so easy. Just the simple act of raising his wand and uttering two little words. A little flash of light and the child would be gone forever. What else could that be but the power of a god? One who controls life and death.

Despite what he wanted to do, he stilled his hand. He was on a mission, and couldn't afford the distraction that killing the child would bring. Even if the the chance that someone would catch on to what he'd done was slim, he couldn't risk it. Therefore, with a small feeling of disappointment, Voldemort moved on, leaving the child standing there without responding. Said child would soon run off to tell his mother about the rude man he'd spoken too. She'd her cluck her tongue with disapproval over the strangers rudeness, never realizing how close her child had come to dying that night.

Reaching the end of this block, Voldemort watched as the place he was looking for seemed to spring into existence before his eyes. If he'd stood in this exact same place even a week earlier, it would have been as if the cottage before him didn't even exist. He could have stood there for as long as he wanted, staring straight at the property, and yet he would never have been able to find the current home of the Potter family. Such was the power of the Fidelius Charm, but it also had a crippling weakness. The very weakness that plagues the very foundation of the human soul. For the Fidelius Charm was only as strong as the will of the person to whom the secret had been intrusted. This was the very reason that Voldemort scoffed at Dumbledore's ideas surrounding the supposed strength of love, for love was not enough to keep Peter Pettigrew from telling him what he wanted to know.

Pushing the small garden gate out of the way, he slowly swept up the path towards the front door. There was a peculiar feeling bubbling up inside him, and it took the dark wizard a moment to realize it was excitement. The Potters had been a thorn in his side for a while, and on top of that he was about to prove once and for all, prophecy or not, no one could stand against him.

The few passersby who had stopped to look at the strange robed man who appeared to be staring intently at the empty lot were surprised as he vanished from their perception. The ones that moved towards where he had been in confusion soon found themselves hurrying in the opposite direction, suddenly remembering a forgotten appointment, or that they'd left the stove on at home. None would remember the strange man's presence until much later when the soon to be infamous destroyed cottage made its appearance at the lane's end, none of it's neighbours having noticed it before.

Unknown to Voldemort, there was one being present that was not confused by what his actions had caused. The crow from before let out another loud caw and flapped it's midnight black wings, alighting from the telephone pole it had been perched on. Gliding down the street, the bird swooped into the same place that Voldemort had disappeared, entering the Potter's yard. Watching as the cloaked figure approached the front door, the crow settled onto a nearby tree branch to watch the coming confrontation.

Finally reaching the door, Voldemort stopped for a moment, looking forward to ridding himself of the prophecy once and for all. It was a shame he'd promise Severus that he'd leave the girl alive, but she would have her uses. Despite having nothing to offer with magical heritage like Lucius did, Severus truly was a genius potions master. Capturing this mudblood for him would only cement his loyalty.

Raising his wand, a cruel smirk on his face for what was about to happen, Voldemort blasted the door of it's hinges. He'd actually hit it so hard that it traveled several feet backwards before toppling over. A scream rang from inside the house causing him to nearly shiver with delight. He loved the absolute tangible fear people had in his presence. That best part was that single moment when they realized what had happened. That second when they realized he had ultimate power over them. That exact point in time when they realized that their god had come for them.

"It's him! Run Lily! Take Harry! I'll hold him off! Just take Harry and go!" A male voice called out in desperation. He would have applauded the fools bravery if he valued that sort of thing, but instead he just laughed. Laughed at the notion that this boy, barely a few years out of Hogwarts, thought he could slow him down.

"James!" A panicked female voice called, but he could tell she had followed her husband's instruction as the sound of quick footsteps receded up the stairs.

His amusement only grew when he realized that when James Potter came to confront him he wasn't even carrying a wand. He would've toyed with the man more, but he was already getting impatient to complete his objective.

"Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light exited the tip of his yew wand and sped towards the young man in front of him, inspecting him in the chest. Just as simple as that, he fell like a puppet who'd had his strings cut. James Potter was dead.

Without breaking a step, Voldemort continued on, turning onto the staircase and beginning to ascend slowly. Getting that familiar little rush he got every time he took a life, his impatience to finish had dimmed. He was going to enjoy this, and he knew the longer he drew out his approach the more the mudblood above him would fall into the grips of terror. He had no fear of them escaping, their own wards and protections around the property being the ones that were trapping them here. How ironic.

Reaching the top landing, it was obvious to him where the mother and son were from the sounds of frantic movement and murmured consolations. Reaching the door, a flick of his wand had the lock clicking open. Placing his pale hand on the cool metal handle, he twisted and pushed on the door only to meet resistance. Pausing for only a half second, he waved his wand again, vanishing the door in it's entirety. There was a loud clatter as a wooden chair tipped and fell into his path. It seemed the girl had tried to barricade the door by muggle means. He scoffed as he vanished it as well.

Entering into the room, which he noted was in fact the baby's nursery, Lily Potter spun around to face him. He could see smudges in her makeup where a few tears seemed to have already fallen. She obviously already quite aware of her husband's fate, but the look of determination on her face as she put herself between him and his target took him aback. He was used to most people's resolve crumbling when they gazed upon him up close, not seeming to strengthen. Where anyone else might gain a measure of respect for their enemies courage in such a situation, that was not the case for Voldemort who only felt enraged that she dare look on him in such a manner.

That anger soon gave way to amusement again when he noticed she didn't have her wand on her either. A wand was a wizard's right, one of the many things that set them apart from the mere animals that were muggles. The Potter's deserved what was coming to them if they were so foolish to prance around even their own home without them.

"Step aside girl, and I may yet let you live to serve me," Voldemort announced grandly, spreading his arms open wide as if he were bestowing upon her a great gift.

"Please, not Harry. Anything but Harry," the red haired woman begged.

"Let it not be said that Lord Voldemort is not a merciful lord, but I do have my limits. Don't test me girl, stand out of the way." He injected a bit of scowl into his voice, but on the inside he was positively enthused. The uppity mudblood who had faced him down so surely was now groveling for his mercy.

"Anything but Harry!" She repeated. "Please! Take me instead. Kill me. Just leave Harry."

It didn't seem to him like she was going to change her mind to his disappointment. Forcing a mother to give up her child to save herself most likely would have broken her. It would have been entertaining to watch. That's when he got an idea. If he couldn't have his first choice, forcing her to watch as he finished off her son would be almost as good.

"I'm warning you girl. You are pushing my patience. If you give me your son now, I'll even make his death painless. Move out of the way and you shall live."

The woman shook her head vehemently, the whites of her eyes showing in her panic, "No! Kill me instead! Don't hurt my son. Don't hurt my Harry! Kill me, just let him go!"

At the end of her latest declaration, something in the air shifted. Voldemort didn't know what it was but it made him nervous. The whole place stunk of ancient magic and he did not like it. Seeing the woman still begging before him he no longer cared about what promises he'd made to his servant. She was the source of this feeling, he knew it, and thus he was not going to let her live.

"Avada Kedavra!" He spoke the fatal words for the second time that night. There was a flash of green light, and much like her husband, Lily Potter fell to the floor dead.

The problem was that feeling from before didn't die with her. If anything the feeling of this magic became even more dense. All of Voldemort's senses were screaming to him of danger, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was. What could possibly pose a threat to him? One who had beaten death and ascended higher than humanity. He was a god and even the other wizards and witches were but mere insects before him.

He turned towards the crib and looked at the spawn of the last two people he had killed. The last Potter. Another ancient magical family about to be extinguished for good. It was time to show Dumbledore that his prophesied saviour meant nothing to him.

Feeling the familiar words already on the tip of his tongue, Voldemort spoke them for the third time, "Avada Kedavra!"

The room was lit up in emerald light as death sped towards Harry Potter.

The room exploded and all Voldemort felt was pain. Agonizing, ripping, tearing, pain that he'd only felt a few times before and then there was nothing. His body was gone, vaporized in the spell backlash. He was confused, disoriented, and the only thing he knew was that somehow he had been bested. He had to leave before Dumbledore arrived. And thus, the shade of the once mighty and powerful Lord Voldemort fled into the night.

From a nearby a tree, a familiar black crow watched as the dust settled. The wannabe dark wizard had prided himself on being the best in the world, and yet it seemed he hadn't even the slightest clue on the true powers of the world. Even a novice magic user who was taught properly knew the power of a question spoken thrice. The fool had sealed his own fate.

From inside the house the sound of a baby crying was heard echoing into the night. Everything had come to pass as it should. Her grandson was alive.

A loud rumbling split the air as a motorcycle descended from the sky. The rider a young man with wild black hair dismounting and hurrying into the house in a panic. His cries of despair were easy to hear even outside. A few minutes later he reached the young child. Digging him out of the rubble he scooped him up into his arms and navigated his way out of the half wrecked cottage.

Another new arrival, a man much too large to be completely human, with a big scruffy black beard intercepted the first man and they began a heated debate over the child. A few minutes later the larger man won out and the child was passed into his arms. The first man turned on the spot and disappeared with a loud crack. The large man climbed onto the first man's motorcycle with the child. Revving the engine loudly, it took off into the sky before vanishing in the distance.

The crow let out one more last caw. Things were progressing on track. Flapping its wings and taking to the air once again, the bird flew off into the distance.

Voldemort couldn't have been more wrong when he started considering himself a god. That title was reserved for beings far older than him, and much more powerful. Beings who had walked the earth before man was even old enough to speak. Before the first of our ancestors had even taken their first steps. Man may have inherited the earth but that was all it was, an inheritance. When the self proclaimed dark lord decided to murder the Potter family that night, little did he know who he would anger that night. He didn't know he had set in motion the very forces that would now work against him. The ones who held the true immortality that he so coveted.

High in the clouds in the great city of Olympus, what appeared to be a young girl sat at a large hearth. She wore a simple brown cloak as she stared at the fire, watching the flames dance, spitting ash into the air every now and again. It was the only sound in the room, as she was alone. To an outsider she looked like a normal girl though beautiful in an unpretentious way, with brown hair that framed her face in ringlets. Nothing special really in the end, although if you looked closely, her features looked perhaps a bit too perfect. That was until she looked at you. Her eyes were that of pure fire, flames licking out as if reaching towards your very soul with a somewhat superhuman quality.

Her name was Hestia. It was her job to guard the hearth. It was a job she had gladly taken for all of her existence, since the great war with her father that ended in him being scattered into the wind. She was a god, one of the 12 Olympians. She was far more powerful than any mere mortal man could ever hope to be. Even now, as she sat in front of the fire, parts of her essence were all over the globe, doing their duty as the goddess of home. She may not be worshipped much anymore but she had her duties and she took them very seriously.

She could be almost everywhere at once, though each time she split herself it diminished her individual power but she could snap back in anytime she wanted to.

Even among the Olympians she was a little odd for a god. She almost exclusively stayed in her childlike form, keeping the visage of someone non threatening, even if she was anything but. She said very little, often slinking into the background, observing the goings on of those around her. Due to this she had a more complete view of the world, and was perhaps the most 'human' of all the Olympians. Many of her brethren lacked empathy and often looked down on humanity, even the children they bore to a mortal parent. She foresaw this attitude would eventually come round to bite them but they wouldn't listen. They never listened.

Thinking that this would be like any other day, she almost didn't notice when she saw something white and misty drift through the air towards her. As luck would have it she was facing the door leading away from the throne room, and as the white mist seeped through the cracks of the closed door, she was almost taken by surprise. The air seemed to shimmer as it drew closer, taking on an almost liquid like quality. She recognized what it was, of course she did. It was a human soul. Not just any soul though. This must mean….

Before she could even finish that thought, the mist slammed into her condensing and forcing its way into her own mouth. It looked like she was choking on smoke, her eyes wide and glowing white, the fire in her eyes now turning into two miniature suns.

Inside her head many things were happening. Memories that were not hers but at the same time were flooded into her thoughts. She felt a second life slam into her mind like a tidal wave. It was a very short life, barely a blink of an eye in her overall immortal existence, but a separate life all the same. She remembered running around in a small house as a toddler, so innocent about the world. She picked up a flower from a garden and ran happily to show it to her mother who affectionately ruffled her hair. She remembered a happy childhood with loving parents and an older sister. She remembered the jealousy her sister would show every time her parents showed her more attention. She remembered days where unexplainable things would happen around her, and how scared she felt about them. She remembered how it felt when her sister called her a freak and glared at her from afar, treating her like she was diseased.

Then one day a young boy told her that she wasn't a freak. He told her instead that she was gifted and that she should be proud of what she could do. Then she got a letter and her life completely changed. A whole new world was now open to her. She was a witch, and she was going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was then that she vowed to be the best witch she could be. She was determined. Her parents were so proud of her the day she got her letter and when a teacher came to collect her to take her to get her school things, she was practically bursting at the seams. Her sister grew even more venomous and as the years went on, the divide between them seem to grow more and more.

She remembered how annoying she found it every time a certain boy from school asked her out. She hated how he bullied one of the few friends she had, how he bullied many people under the guise of simple pranks. Even after she was betrayed by her childhood friend, she never truly forgave the other boy for how he had treated him before that. Though, as time went by she started to see the better parts of that boy, and saw the glimmer of something good in him. She notice how he slowly changed his ways, letting go of his bullying tendencies as he matured. Most important of all was when she learned just how far he would go for his friends. She fell in love. Oh she fell hard.

She remembered the war, and how a dark shadow had loomed over Hogwarts as a maniac called Voldemort began terrorising the magical community. Fear was constant, and every time she went home over the holidays she wondered if when she came back, her friends would still be there. Every christmas, every summer...more and more of her classmates were going home and not coming back. Sometimes she wondered if one day it would be her. Would she become just another statistic to a war she didn't even understand? For a man who talked so much about blood purity, he didn't seem to care much about who he killed.

She remembered leaving Hogwarts and joining Dumbledore's order, a militant group whose sole purpose was to fight Voldemort. She fought side by side with her boyfriend, and later husband, as they opposed the dark forces that threatened the entire country. For a few years that's what her life was, and although it was hard, she had her husband and she was content. Then life changed for her again.

She had a son.

The memories of how she had felt when she found out she was pregnant hit her so hard the very air around her seemed to catch fire. She gripped the hard stone floor as the feelings washed over her being. She remembered the elation she felt when she told her husband the news, and the tears that freely fell when he danced around the room like a loon.

The moment she held that newborn baby in her arms she felt complete, and she looked down at that tiny bundle silently vowing to protect him till her last breath. She had a family, and she loved them dearly.

Then the unthinkable happened. Albus Dumbledore visited them and told them of the prophecy. It had spoken of the one who was destined to wield the only power that could defeat the dark lord.

And apparently her son was a prime candidate.

And Voldemort knew it.

So they went into hiding. For a while this worked. They had a foolproof system and a strong Fidelius around the property, a strong magical charm that would make them invisible to all but those who were told the secret of their location. The secret was entrusted to one of their close friends, though not the one most would suspect. They did this in order to add an extra layer of protection in case their obvious choice in Secret Keeper was captured and tortured for the information. They would go to Order meetings like normal and try and lead a normal life, keeping at least one of them at home to look after Harry. At least for the first few months they did this. One night, she found she was very nearly captured and she barely managed to escape. For the next few months they both stayed at home, taking care of their 1 year old child like any normal parents would. They did their best to make sure that his innocence was maintained, and that in his young eyes, nothing was wrong.

Little did she know that their trust was severely misplaced. The secret had been told. They had been betrayed.

This is why Lily Potter died.

As memories of the last few hours assaulted her mind, Hestia gasped for breath, and the grief she felt was almost overpowering. She felt an overpowering sorrow as she experienced her husband's death for a second time. A sorrow for how she had never even gotten a chance to say goodbye. There was no time, she reasoned, but that didn't make her feel any better.

As the memories receded and she relived her own death, a dark pit formed in her stomach and her grief turned to anger. Who dare attack her son! The soul she had just reintegrated with herself was now truly one with her, and so she slowly raised herself from the floor, taking deep breaths as she went. How long has it been? She made a quick check. Nearly a whole day.

That long? She thought.

Physically she was fine, but emotionally she was feeling everything at once; anger, sadness, despair, sorrow, regret. Most of all she was feeling worry for her boy.

It was strange to think that a few minutes ago she didn't even know what a mothers love felt like. She was a virgin goddess after all, and had long since accepted that she would never have children, be they godly or mortal. Even being the most human of the gods, she still didn't completely understand them. It was why years ago she had decided to split away a part of herself and tie it to the mortal realm. She wanted to know what it felt like to be mortal. To be human. She had never expect it to be wrought with so many unknowns. So much pain, and yet so much joy.

With barely a thought, she searched out the soul of her son, tracking him to a location in Surrey, England. A location she dearly recognized. She drew her cloak over herself and raised its hood. Her eyes were back to their fiery coals except much more vibrant than usual. She travelled to the location her son's soul had been located and slowly walked up the pavement. She decided to appear a few streets away from him so she could get her emotions under control by the time she arrived. It wasn't like she wanted to accidentally set the neighbourhood ablaze if she couldn't control her temper. What was Dumbledore playing at sending her son here? Does he not know how badly he would be treated? At best his presence will be loathed and at worst... she didn't even want to think about it. It didn't matter. She would get him away from those people.

It was dark out, so she morphed her eyes to appear mortal. Although uncomfortable, she was successful. Instead of bright burning coals, they now just looked slightly amber, and you would have to be pretty close to notice even that. Every now and again she would hear a loud bang followed by some coloured lights. Many families were letting off fireworks to entertain the children, and celebrate the lead up to Guy Fawkes night. She snorted to herself. If only they knew the truth about Guy Fawkes.

She kept getting strange looks but she ignored them. Her final goal was the only thing she truly cared about in this moment. No doubt, concerned adults were wondering why what appeared to be a young child was walking around unsupervised on a cold November night.

It wasn't long before she arrived at her destination, and she was barely able to keep her anger in. How dare they! In the middle of autumn... it's freezing! She thought frantically as she ran up to the front door of a particular house. At its foot was a small bundle wrapped in blankets with a note laid on top. She barely took notice of the note, quickly pocketing it before picking up the bundle and cupping it gently at her chest. Her heart swelled as she looked down upon her baby boy's face but she instantly frowned when she noticed the scar on his forehead, still slightly oozing blood.

She noticed with a start that she could sense Harry's divine energy. He was a demigod, and a powerful one at that. Somehow even as a mortal, she kept enough of herself within her to give this child the most wonderful of gifts. That's good she thought this will make healing you so much easier. With a single thought she unlocked all of his godly abilities. It was a rarely known fact that demigods didn't just get their gifts naturally from their godly parent. They were chosen. At least most of them. Sure an Aphrodite child would be exceedingly beautiful or an Ares child would be an amazing warrior but things like charmspeak and elemental manipulation? Those gifts had to be given willingly. And so she gave her son everything she could. She knew he would need them later in life. As sad as that made her, you couldn't run from prophecy.

Turning back to the matter at hand, she spoke in soothing voice, "A beautiful boy like you shouldn't have such an ugly scar."

She placed a hand on the open wound. Channelling her divine energy through herself, a small lick of flame escaped her hands and jumped into the jagged lightning shaped cut. As the flames touched her boys skin, she could see the wound slowly closing. As the goddess of the hearth, fire had a healing effect on her children. They could not burn at all. As the fire was slowly absorbed into Harry's skin, she could feel something stirring.

At first she thought he was waking up. Oh how she longed to looked into those bright green eyes again and tell her son how much she loved him

What she didn't expect was something akin to black ink fall out the cut as she healed it, or the dark energy that seemed to pulsate from it. With a wave of her hand the energy burned up in the air, destroyed before it ever became a problem. That felt like...surely he wasn't stupid enough to make THOSE she thought. It didn't matter, she rubbed her hand over his forehead once more, his skin now completely unblemished. She would normally be worried that he had still not awoken but she could sense that there was magic at work. It would most likely keep him asleep for the next few hours at least.

With her baby held close to her she took one last look at the home of her mortal sister before walking back down the path and away from that family for the last time.

"It's time to take you home" she whispered, and with that, in a flash of flame, the goddess of the hearth and her son were gone.

Halfway across the globe, another ancient entity settled down to do some paperwork. To any who would look at him, he appeared to be kind middle-aged man with thinning brown hair, bushy eyebrows, intense brown eyes, and a scruffy beard that he seemed to favor in the winter months. Another trait that most would notice right away is that the man sat in a wheelchair. There was a good chance that none of those people who saw him would be able identify as one of the most famous figures from Greek mythology.

To those in the know, he wasn't even a man, but the great centaur Chiron, trainer of famous heroes like Hercules, Jason, and Achilles. The wheelchair he currently sat in was specially enchanted to both hide and contain the equestrian bottom half of his body for when he was in public. He also used it quite often in the big house, where he was currently located, since it made it easier to maneuver within tight spaces.

Chiron sighed tiredly, looking forward to retiring for the night. Only a fraction of their campers were present at the moment since a good number only came in the summer months, but they'd still managed to have a good Halloween celebration. To Chiron, it was just as much about trying to give back a little to his charges, many of whom had rough childhoods, as it was to give their offerings to the gods. He cared deeply for them all, and hated to see how rough life was on those born to a god and a mortal. It's the reason he'd devoted the many millennia of his life to training demigods, both to protect themselves and all the unaware mortals as well.

As he finished up his work for the night, the famous centaur couldn't help but wish that Mr. D would actually pick up some of the slack around camp. It wasn't like he was actually surprised that Dionysus, the god of grape-harvest, wine, madness, parties, ecstasy, and theater, didn't do much. He was only the camp director in name really, spending his time sitting in the big house to supposedly watch over all of the gods mortal children as a punishment for chasing after an off-limits wood nymph that his father, Zeus, was fond of himself. No one ever said that Chiron's half-brother couldn't be vindictive.

Putting his work away for the night, Chiron prepared to wheel himself to his quarters for the night only to stop in surprise at the sight before him. The small figure of a child was crouched in front of the burning fireplace, her back to him. While many would be confused by the sudden appearance of a young girl, he was not. He knew exactly who it was that he was looking at.

"My lady Hestia," he greeted. "To what to I owe the pleasure of your visit."

There was a beat of silence before the girl answered without turning, "Hello Chiron."

The ancient trainer of heroes waited a few more moments for her to say more but was surprised only to hear the continued crackling of the burning log. The silence was making him nervous. Hestia was known for being somewhat reclusive, not liking to take center stage like many of the other gods, but she was also known to be one of the most friendly and one of the most human. For her to just sit there in silence like that was unlike her.

"Is there anything I can do for you milady?" He ventured with caution. It was always good to tread carefully with even the most mild tempered of gods.

Again he was answered with a moment of silence, before the goddess slowly rose to her feet and turned towards him. The sight before him gave a sinking feeling in his stomach. She was holding a young child. From what he could see in the low light, it appeared to be a boy of about a year old.

"I need you to do something for me Chiron."

"Of course. Anything milady." His instincts were screaming at him that whatever was about to revealed was going to end up shaking Olympus to its core. He knew if he was smart that he'd stay out of it, but that was not an option here. One did not deny a request from a god, especially when they asked you in person.

"Thank you… brother." The face of the young girl smiled at him as she approached. "I need you to look after my son."

Chiron's breath caught in his throat. He had already begun to suspect but the confirmation was still staggering. He had been right about this shaking things up on Olympus. Hestia had sworn a vow of eternal maidenhood. The young boy he was looking at in the goddess' arms would be the first demigod son of Hestia in all of history.

"We don't usually have campers this young," Chiron ruminated, already trying to figure out how it would even work. A burning look from Hestia caused that train of thought to be dropped but, he did try one last thing. "What about the boy's father?"

A look of brief pain flashed over the goddess' childlike face, surprising the centaur, though it was quickly hidden, "he was murdered earlier tonight."

Chiron blanched, "Oh… I'm so sorry to hear that. I'm assuming that that's why you have brought him here?" Inside Chiron was again ruminating on how the children of the gods seemed to attract nothing but misery in pain in their lives.

She ignored the last question, continuing to meet his gaze without flinching. "Will you help me Chiron? Will you look after my son?"

He only hesitated for a second before nodding in acceptance. The goddess inclined her head back in thanks before turning her attention to her son. She leaned forward kiss his forehead gently before murmuring, "Mommy loves you Harry. Never forget that. Mommy will always love you."

As strange as it might be to see what appeared to be a child acting in such a manner, famous trainer of heroes found himself in awe. He'd never seen any of the gods be so open in their affection for their demigod children. He wished all his charges could experience this as too many ended up resenting their godly parent in the end.

Breaking out of his reverie, he held out his arms as the goddess passed him her son. The small black haired boy didn't even stir. "His name is Harry. Harry Potter," she said as she slowly backed away.

Chiron head jerked back up to follow Hestia's movement, somewhat worried she was going to leave with just that. "Is there anything else I should know?"

The goddess paused again in thought, "His father was a wizard and so is he."

Chiron's eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't unheard of for a demigod to also be a witch or wizard but it had been a while since it had happened, unless you counted demigod children of Hecate but they weren't quite the same. "I see."

"I know you don't often bother to teach your campers about the wizarding world since they rarely interact, but I'm sure you keep abreast of news from them as well."

He nodded in affirmative, "I do. When the children of your brothers were fighting at the front lines of the second world war, I know a wizard named Grindelwald was terrorizing the wizards from the shadows. I also know that something similar has sparked a civil war among the magicals in England these past few years as well. It seems like whether it is amongst the gods themselves, their children, witches and wizards, or even the everyday mortals, conflict seems to be inevitable."

Hestia didn't say anything for a moment before continuing, "If you really do keep as close a watch as you say, then there is some news that you will soon recognize in the wizarding community." She paused again for a second, "People will be coming for him, Chiron. Witches, wizards, monsters, other gods, they will all be coming for him. He is bound by prophecy and I need you to prepare him for his destiny. I need you protect him until he is ready to take care of himself. Can you do that?"

"I will milady." Chiron answered seriously before allowing his curiosity get the better of him. "What will you do about your brother? He will surely find out about Harry. You made a vow to him. We both know he can be quick to anger."

"I will deal with my brother when the time comes. That being said, no one can know about me. All will be revealed one day but to keep him safe, the other gods must remain ignorant of his parentage."

Looking like she was about to leave, Chiron couldn't help but blurt out, "But what about Harry himself? Are you just going to leave him unclaimed? Leave him always wondering?"

The look he received made him freeze on the spot and reminded him once again why it was not a good idea to get on the bad side of a god. Luckily for him her expression returned to neutral after a minute, "I will visit my son myself when it is time. He will not grow up ignorant of who he is, but I will not claim him publicly until certain events have unfolded. Now, make sure you keep your eye on the magical community as I said and some things should begin to make themselves clear soon."

Chiron nodded, beginning to feel curious about she meant. It was the second time she'd mentioned about watching the magicals. When it came to the gods, things were rarely a coincidence. He would do as she suggested.

"Before I go, you should know that I will be sending Harry's godfather this way soon. He won't be able to enter camp as he is a wizard but I think it will be good for my son to spend some time with him growing up. That being said, Harry will remain at camp year round. It is the only place safe for him at the moment."

"I will do as you request lady Hestia."

The goddess nodded, "I am counting on your Chiron. Keep my son safe."

In the blink of an eye she was gone causing Chiron to sigh. Dealing with gods, even those as good natured as Hestia could be tiring. Looking down at the still slumbering child in his arms, Chiron couldn't help but wonder what he'd gotten himself into.