They left her baby on a doorstep. They left her baby on a doorstep with nothing but a blanket. Aphrodite scowled, did they think him a newspaper or some flaming dog shit? I don't think so, the goddess thought viciously, bending down and picking up the fifteen month old baby. She cradled him to her breast, and the child snuggled closer and sighed. Aphrodite studied the ugly lightning bolt scar that marred her beautiful child's forehead.

"Oh, I don't think so." She breathed aloud, brushing her index finger over it, her red nail lightly scraping. A black tar-like substance came gushing out, and it crawled up her finger with black spider web limbs, but all Aphrodite did was flick it towards the ground where it sunk strait to the Underworld. When the goddess looked back at the child there was no scar, not even a hint of it. "Hades will be able to track down the other pieces of soul now that he has something to work with." She said reassuringly to her child who had opened his multicolored eyes to stare at her. "So there's really no reason for you to be staying with these horrible people." She smiled beautifully.

With that, the Goddess of Love walked across the street where a nice married couple resided, but were packing in order to move to New York—the had not liked the neighbors, which played a huge part in their decision. Aphrodite conjured a white wicker bassinet with fluffy pillows and blankets and a plush toy of a stag, placed the boy in it, and turned away. She stopped halfway down the driveway and looked back in thought: all of the baby's blankets and clothes suddenly had a name embroidered in golden thread along with an intricate dove.

The name that was sewn was Hadrian James Potter.