#what happened to being a demigod is scary and gets you killed in nasty painful ways rick

[silenab]

idk i still think luke's scar should've been worse

[jazzy---j]

Daughter of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief

“even the gods have to bow to fate”

Chapter Summary: A field trip suddenly becomes dangerous and traumatic, unveiling an unsettling reality for Cassie Jackson. Leaving her and her brother scrabbling for answers.

Masterlist >>> Read on ao3 (1/23)

We Accidentally Vaporize Our Pre-Algebra Teacher

This is not really how I pictured my life going. I don't know what exactly I pictured but the life of a half-blood was not it. But I am who I am for a reason.

However despite how amazing my demigod, hero life sounds, if YOU are reading this because you think you might be one of us, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life. It almost is not worth it.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. Which can honestly be such a drag.

If you're a normal kid, reading this because you think this is fiction, great. Congratulations. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that this is just a fun little bit of urban fantasy escapism.

But if you recognize yourself in these pages, if you feel something stirring inside-stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it's only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they'll come for you. Don't ignore it. Try and get in touch with me, with any of us and we will find you. We never leave a demigod behind.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

My name is Cassandra Jackson. But everyone just calls me Cassie. It’s faster, easier and if you call me Cassandra... well you will literally be sleeping with the fishes.

I'm eleven years old. Until a few months ago, I was in the sixth grade with my older brother Percy. We went to Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

Are we troubled kids? Well duh. Wouldn't be much fun if we weren't.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan- twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know, it sounds like a chaotic disaster. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so it may not be so bad.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put Percy to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay for us. At least, I hoped that for once Percy and I wouldn't get in trouble. Boy, was I wrong.

See, bad things happen to us on field trips. Like at our fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, Percy had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. He wasn't aiming for the school bus on purpose. And I still swear I didn't mean to light the wick. At the time I didn't know the thing still even worked. Percy and I were just immersing ourselves in the history of Saratoga. But of course, we got expelled anyway.

And before that, at our fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, Percy sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk, and our class took an unplanned swim.

At our third-grade school, I let out all the animals at the petting zoo. They just looked so sad, and I know this is crazy but I heard the horses just begging me to let them out. So I did, and a teacher may or may not have taken a trip to the ER.

And the time before that... Well, you get the idea.

But this time Percy and I talked it over and we decided that we had to get it together. We were determined to be good. We were gonna keep each other in check, no mess ups, no screw ups.

All the way into the city, we put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, (also my roommate, lucky me) hitting Percy's best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria. He also had the weirdest fashion sense with a rasta cap and baggy jeans. But he was one of the greatest friends Percy has ever had, besides me of course, and I was thankful for that.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew we couldn't do anything back to her because Percy and I were already on probation. The headmaster had threatened us with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

Which is such a shame because I had so many plans.

"I'm going to kill her," Percy mumbled.

I scoffed, picking the foam out of the hole of my seat, "Get in line bro."

Grover tried to calm him down. "It's okay. I like peanut butter."

He dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." Percy started to get up, but Grover and I pulled him back into the seat.

"You're already on probation," Grover reminded him.

"And you know who'll get blamed if anything happens," I added.

I grabbed his hand, "Come on Percy we talked about this."

We locked eyes, and I took a second to analyze my brother's face. Even though we weren't actually twins we still looked really similar. Both of us had wild windswept jet black hair and vibrant sea-green eyes.

“Remember what mom said, ‘“Hold fast, Perseus.””

He sighed and closed his eyes, nodding in agreement.

Looking back on it, I wish I'd let Percy deck Nancy Bobofit right then and there. Heck, I wished I'd done it. An in-school suspension would've been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into.

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour.

He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years. Probably even longer.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time Percy or I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give us the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

Which I, of course, had nothing to do with.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured Percy and I were devil spawns. She's not entirely wrong but, that wasn't the point.

She would point her crooked finger at us and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew we were going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, she'd made Percy erase answers out of old math workbooks and I had to scrap gum off the bottom of all the desks in her classroom. We were both up until pass midnight. One day Percy angrily told Grover he didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at us, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

So not ominous at all. Everything's all fine and dandy.

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele. I turned around to say something but Percy beat me to it exclaiming, "Will you shut up?"

It totally came out louder than he meant it to.

My big brother ladies and gentlemen.

The whole group laughed. I turned and gave them a death stare and they quickly shut up. That's right no one was gonna make fun of my brother except me. Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Mr. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"

I dared a glance at Percy and his face was totally red. He said, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I looked at the carving and felt a flush of relief because we just studied this in class. Percy should remember this. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?" Percy exclaimed.

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." Percy started trying to remember. "Kronos was the king god, and-"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asked.

"Titan," I coughed into my hand.

"Titan," he corrected himself as grabbed my hand to give a gentle squeeze in thanks.

"And... he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters-"

"Eeew!" said one of the girls behind me, I turned and made a face at her. Percy gripped my hand tighter in warning. I turned back around and made a face at him too. He ignored me.

"-and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," He continued, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Miss Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had horse ears.

I thought about his question, shrugged, and gave the safe non-committal answer, "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. and Miss. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like complete morons.

Grover, Percy, and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. and Miss. Jackson."

Damn... almost made it.

Percy told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?"

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go, intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told us. "About the Titans?" Percy asked.

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy and Cassie Jackson."

I was kinda annoyed with that statement. He pushed us so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!'" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected Percy and I to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that we both have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder, and Percy and I had never made above a C- in our lives. And no he didn't expect us to be as good; he expected us to be better.

No pressure.

Percy mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He told us to go outside and eat lunch.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snowstorms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. That would actually be the least of my concerns.

Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds didn't see a thing. Morons.

Grover, Percy, and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school-the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," Percy said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean- I'm not a genius."

"You most certainly are not," I said smirking as I unwrapped my sandwich.

“Shut up, Cassie,” Percy said jokingly as he flicked my shoulder.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give us some deep philosophical crap like they say in the movies, he said, "Can I have your apple?"

Percy shrugged and handed it to him. I offered him my granola, but he declined, and I began to feed it to the pigeons.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so badly to jump in a taxi and head home with Percy. She'd hug us and be glad to see us, but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send us right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was our sixth school in six years and we were probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

I also wished that I could go visit the dance studio around the corner. I had been dancing since I was 6, my mom enrolled me to try and run off all my nervous energy and help me focus. I fell in love and have been dancing ever since. Unfortunately, I haven't been in a year because of school. I was extremely out of practice and just itching to start again.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. Like in those Italian romance movies that I watched from the window of Ms. Noris's fourth-story apartment across the street.

I was about to drink my juice box (yeah a juice box, sue me) when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of us with her ugly friends-I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists-and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." Sometimes, it actually worked for me. Percy on the other hand... not so much.

The next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see-" "-the water-"

"-like it grabbed her-"

There was no way what I just saw was real. No way. All I knew for sure was that my big brother was in trouble again.

I looked over at Percy like, "Dude, what did you do?"

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on us. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if she just proved an argument. "Now, honey-"

"I know," Percy grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks."

That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said, "Cassandra too!" she said almost triumphantly.

Oh great! I'm in trouble by association.

Percy froze and stared at her in disbelief, "She didn't even do anything!" he yelled.

"I'll be the judge of that Mr. Jackson!" she sneered.

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for us. Besides the fact that it was totally a bad idea, Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled. "I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But-"

"You-will-stay-here."

Grover looked at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," Percy told him.

"Thanks for trying," I added.

"Honeys," Mrs. Dodds barked at us. "Now." Nancy Bobofit smirked.

Percy gave her his deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare as he grabbed my hand.

Damn, I did not want to be on the other end of that.

Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

I glanced at Percy and he looked just as puzzled as I felt.

How... how did she get there so fast?

We have moments like that a lot when our brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told us this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure, this time. My grip on Percy's hand only tightened.

We continued after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, Percy turned and glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between us and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, something clearly isn't right.

In any normal situation, she would make us buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop. But that clearly wasn’t the plan.

We followed her deeper into the museum. When we finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

Percy said, "Yes, ma'am."

I decided to stay quiet, with my mouth we'd end up in even more trouble than we already were.

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?" The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt us. I'm pretty sure that is highly illegal.

Percy said, "We-we'll try harder, ma'am." Thunder shook the building. If we were in a movie that probably means something very bad is about to happen.

"We are not fools, Percy and Cassie Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

"Percy-, " I said nervously as I gripped him.

Ok, now I'm really confused.

I didn't know what she was talking about.

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy Percy had been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I'm the one who super glued the science teacher to his desk chair and let loose all the frogs in the classroom.

What can I say I enjoy chaos.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Ma'am, I don't..." I trailed off.

"Your time is up," she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even weirder.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy, Cassie!" he shouted, tossing a pen and small glinting object in the air. It flew so fast I could barely make it out. Mrs. Dodds lunged at us.

With a yelp, Percy and I dodged in opposite directions. I felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched what I could now see was some sort of metal bracelet cuff out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a bracelet anymore. It was a spear!

Ok...that's new. Bracelet turning into medieval murder weapon.

To my right Percy was holding a sword, the same sword Mr. Brunner used on tournament days.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the spear.

She snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing I could do: I slashed with the spear.

The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body, clashing and clanging with Percy's blade as he swung through with the sword.

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

We were alone.

The spear went limp like a wet noodle in my hands and seemed to shrink. It began to wrap around my arm and once it was done it harden again into a bracelet cuff that looked like a snake coiled around my arm. I tugged on it, trying to get it off but it wouldn't budge. I finally decided to just pull my jacket sleeve over it and deal with it later.

So.... that happened.

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but us.

I ran to Percy, and he gripped me tightly in a hug. He was shaking just as badly as I was.

"Percy, what was that?" I exclaimed.

"I don't know," he said, eyes still searching the exhibit as if Mrs. Dodd's would show up again.

My hands were still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

It was much more believable than the fever dream we just witnessed.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Percy said as he grabbed my hand and we went back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

Percy stopped walking, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

Percy asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

He said, "Who?"

But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at us, so I thought he was messing around.

"Not funny, dude," I told him. "This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

"Stay here Cassie, I'm gonna figure out what's going on," Percy said.

He went over to Mr. Brunner.

I moved close enough to hear what they were saying but not too close in case there were any more surprises from Mr. Brunner the only other teacher on the trip. My ears strained to listen.

Mr. Brunner looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

Percy handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized Percy still had that. "Sir," Percy said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at Percy blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Yep, something is definitely going on.

chapter 2 >>>

[pjo-whore]

Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

*

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

*