Revisiting old work, shuffling around and editing stories I want to continue to work on. Have a country you would like to see fleshed out in the Potterverse? Tell me!

OLYMPUS

6 Years ago...

"I assume that all of us have received a certain letter?"

It was a circular table, made from finely sanded and polished mahogany wood with glinting golden nameplates to mark where everyone was to be seated. There were places where age showed through, a small, fine crack there, a little bit of scuffing somewhere else and shadowed splotches of some spilled liquid stained the beautifully carved furniture piece. The young and uninitiated would often joke that some unfortunate family head had met his demise on the table. The older ones knew it had been a King.

And at that moment, there was one unoccupied space.

Aries Coeus Pan Typhoeus was a man, who wanted nothing more than for the world to leave him alone and let him wallow in misery with several good books and several crates of fine wine. But he had his duties and obligations, the least of which was to listen to the latest gossip the old fogies wanted to dredge up. "As interesting as it was," he spoke politely, half way between reverence and irritation. "Perhaps it would be better to discuss the matter when the one responsible is in our midst?" He not-so-subtly inclined his head towards the empty seat.

"Where is that Nardessian anyway?" Epaphus Telemachus was a heavy set, almost burly, man who preferred straight forward accusations and insults to word games. Vinegar over honey, as it were, and would brow beat the "flies" into agreeing with him. "Hades-damned women. Always making a man wait."

Themis Hesiod Palagos, thin and wiry, sputtered. "E-e-epaphus! You really should not be so uncouth. I am sure she is legitimately busy, perhaps caring for her new son..."

"Regardless," Oceanus Palagos coughed into an old, wrinkled hand from the Head Seat. House Palagos used to be the House of royalty, above and beyond the rest of them. Not anymore. "This bears looking into. In particular, how she expects this to work." He coughed once more and then fixed Aries with an intense stare that made his heart drop to his stomach. "If you would, Patriarch?"

He glanced around the table, seeing no sympathy but instead expectant stares. He swallowed and smiled weakly. "Of course."

The elder Palagos' eyes remained on him for a second too long, but before he could call the old man up on it, he moved on. "It is in my understanding that a new bill up for review has the potential to upset some of our most vital traditions, namely there has been," the old man paused, his face twisting up into a semblance of disgust as he shuffled some papers around in front of him, "talk about affording the non-magicals with rights." A low, uneven buzz echoed in the chamber as the old family heads began to complain and protest. "I know, I know," he rumbled. "Unthinkable."

"I don't agree." Aries looked the speaker over, Alexon Melanipos, young man, young house, and with a mother that was proof positive that anything that came from magical America could be safely ignored. "There are quite a few of them, after all. Billions. Ignoring them does not make them go away."

"Of course not." Leandros Medon Menoeces scoffed, drumming his fingers into the table as the proud badge of an Errinyes official glinted in the soft light. Good man, if a bit thick. "It just takes a few charms and wards inste-"

He was interrupted by one of the three female heads that had a place at the table. Dianthe Eris Phanagoras. Pretty nasty with that castration curse of hers, if he recalled correctly and he was reasonably sure he did. "My niece has reported that there has been approximately 27.8% more cases of magic among the blinds this generation, up from last generations 23.5%. That kind of growth is worrying."

Aries cut in, unwilling to listen to the round of 'he said, she said' that was likely to follow. "Alright, how about we see exactly what kind of rights we're talking about here, if you would. Honored Patriarch."

More shuffling of papers. "Hmm, now let's see here…ah, yes, a petition from the non-magical government that wishes for us to dismantle our relocation of magical children departments…"

"Denied," he said flatly, barely a few seconds before all the other Heads agreed with him. They sent that petition every year it seemed. He wouldn't be surprised if it was exactly the same petition, original signatures, seals, words and all.

"Or failing that," the elder Palagos continued wryly, "to allow periodic contact between the children and their former families. Apparently they are getting tired of erasing the paper trails and cleaning up after memory modification crews."

He had to hide a frown. That was slightly more reasonable, and personally, Aries was fully prepared to give the Blind government bonus points for the appeal to sympathy with the paper work thing. He knew that if he could get away with just setting his desk on fire and never looking back, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"We'll have to discuss that later, the rest?" At Thesiod's surprised look, he suddenly realized that in his impatience, he managed to take control of the meeting. Bugger. "Does anyone else have anything to add?" He tried. Dianthe settled back into her seat, looking smug even as Ephaphus just grumbled under his breath.

"Keep goin', Typhoeus. Keep goin'."

It was fairly obvious that Oceanus had noticed his predicament, given the sly little smile he had on his face. "Well, then, there are requests for more oversight and involvement with our law making process and trials and a 'Non-magical Defense Act' which would make magical crimes against non-magical citizens of Greece carry a higher penalty…"

Aries eyed the thick stack of papers by Palagos' elbow, half-listening and groaned softly.

Politics.

Once the meeting had been mercifully adjourned, Aries took the most direct route to the Nardessian Estate in determination to get this over and done with as soon as possible. The sun was already tentatively courting the horizon with soft reds and hard yellows and he had several good books waiting for him and with any luck, an equally good bottle of wine.

If he had no luck, he supposed he would run into his wife without any alcohol.

He marched up to the front door ignoring the faint tingle of the Estate's wards tasting his magic and proceeded to bang on it, rewarded by it soon creaking open a sliver to allow a young man with soft brown eyes to peer out suspiciously.

"Patriarch Typhoeus!" The door opened a fraction wider as he squared his shoulders. "We were unaware that you intended to visit today."

"I'm sure," he said dryly. The trick was to act like nothing had changed, to be defiant no matter how he felt inwardly. He couldn't think too much about what to say as that was likely to make her even more suspicious and the last thing he wanted was to draw a Nardessian into a word game. He had to be blunt but not demanding. Familiar but not condescending...and contractions were good. They made speech less formal. Warmer. Friendlier. "I've decided to pay Hera a visit, if I'm allowed." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as the servant seemed at a genuine loss. "Do I pass?"

The servant hesitated, eyes briefly going unfocused, before stepping to the side and holding the door open for him. "If you would kindly remove your sandals, Patriarch?"

He did so, kicking them to the side like he owned the place and was slightly disturbed by how easy it was to slip back into old habits. The familiarity was almost painful, he used to hang his outer robe on that peg right there, little Hera's shoes would be in a neat row and Zeus' black sandals would have been in that corner there-

"Ari?"

He turned and found that not all of his surprise had to be feigned. It had been five years since he had last seen her, he knew that, and yet somehow he managed to fool himself into thinking that she would be just the same as when he last saw her. The changes were comfortably subtle; her hair was still the dark red from her grandmother if a bit longer and her father's green eyes remained as vivid as ever. She was less awkward, having grown into her arms and legs to a height just about below his nose, and the baby fat had all but disappeared. He swallowed uncomfortably as he searched her face for scarring.

"Hera? Titans girl, it feels like I haven't seen you for ages." He tried a good natured grin. No scars. He wasn't sure what to feel about that. "Come, let me have a look at you."

For a brief moment, her brow scrunched in confusion but she stepped forward and with that movement, suddenly the near see through ensemble she was wearing was not okay. He nearly swallowed his tongue when all the changes 'little Hera' went through seemed highlighted by the flimsy material.

She noticed; approaching him like a snake would a trapped mouse. Slow, sinuous, and completely in control. "Look, Ari," she murmured, turning for his convenience. "I'm all grown up."

He swore under his breath. "And a mother, apparently!" he almost yelled, desperate for a distraction. "When did that happen?" He had learned a valuable lesson today: Hera was no longer shy about her body. Don't bring any attention to it.

She took the subject change in stride, altering her approach into a predatory circling stroll around him. "Interested, are you?"

"Your letter was sparse on the details."

"And the renowned Aries Typhoeus of Erinyes has never been one to overlook the details," she mused, slightly teasing from his left and he held back the urge to follow her with his eyes as she disappeared behind him again.

"Quite right."

"Except when it matters," she spat and he let his wince be fully visible.

"I deserved that."

"You deserve much more, but I'm willing to let it slide," she confessed as she came to stand in front of him again, uncomfortably close. Her eyes bored into his own. "So who sent you? Oceanus, I'm guessing, perhaps even Temenos." He shook his head. She was still using contractions! That was good. "Soranus?" she guessed again. "Dianthe? Pylenor?"

"Hera, I'm not spying for anyone." Technically true, he had just been asked to inquire, not to report.

She pulled back, thoughtful. "Truly?"

"I swear." The smile he got was almost blinding and he immediately felt guilty.

She turned on her heel, the flash of two golden anklets on her left leg distracting him for a moment, and led him up and around to the nigh abandoned West Wing. The number of servants bustling about and looking busy gradually decreased as they went along, before they vanished entirely. They reached a door at the very end of a dead hallway, and with only a short, nervous glance over her shoulder, Hera gently pushed it open.

A tiny figure was half way swallowed by the king sized bed it was in, swamped by red and silver silk sheets. He wandered over, fascinated in spite of himself, and sat on one side while Hera knelt at the other. It was a boy with olive skin, a softly tapering chin and an absolute mess of black hair on his head. Every so often, the boy's eyelids would flicker and he would shift slightly. Aries ran a critical eye over him.

"He looks like Apollon," he accused and watched a satisfied smile curl Hera's lips upwards.

"He does, doesn't he? But he has my nose," she ran a gentle finger on the facial feature in question and then pointed out others. "My eyes, his grandmother's fingers and his grandfather's smile." She brushed his forehead with the back of her hand, absently, revealing a thin lightning bolt shaped scar.

He sucked in a breath. "Great Zeus! Potter? How on earth-" he struggled with himself. If he knew, he would most likely be honor bound to report where the missing Boy-Who-Lived was to the ICW. The Supreme Mugwhump had been making waves. "On second thought, I don't want to know."

"Apparation," she answered anyway. "Right in front of me. Sad, bruised, dirty and painfully thin..." She shrugged in that one armed way she had apparently never grown out of. "You could say my heart went out to him."

"Your heart, hmm? I'm sure a boy able to apparate without splinching himself to Tartarus had nothing to do with it." She gave him a sideways look from hooded eyes but said nothing. He wasn't going to get answers there. "He doesn't look English. Familious?"

"There were some things he wouldn't have been able to inherit, had I used that." The tone was light, but final. No answers there either. Fine.

He sighed and looked skyward. "I'll cover for you until the papers have been signed and sealed."

Hera blinked in mild surprise. "Ari, it takes a year for an adoption to be finalized."

"I'll fast track it," he brushed off, standing up, already drawing up lists of contacts and bribes in his mind. Getting around the oaths in the ICW chambers would be tricky, but if he took another look at the wording he was sure he could hide, yes, that might work…"I just hope you know what you are doing."

There was a moment of silence, as she traced the boy's scar with cautious reverence. "Thank you, Ari," came out in a hard whisper.

"Don't mention it." He gave her a smile that no doubt was a bit sick looking. "Really, don't mention it. Ever."

Present Day...

Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,

Harry, where ever you are and whatever name you go by, let it be known that I have personally charmed this letter so as to be opened only opened by Harry Potter. You. I do not claim to know what you have been told about your heritage but in the event that you do know, overlook the repetition. You, Harry, are a wizard and so were your parents. Both of them attended school here at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and I now invite you to do the same. It is an opportunity for you to reconnect with your past, where you came from, as well as being tutored in magic by the best in Western Europe. I implore you to take the time to consider this favorably. We await your reply no later than August 5th.

Sincerly,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
(Hogwarts Headmaster, Supreme Mugwhump of Wizemgot, 1st Class Order of Merlin, etc)

An alarmed pair of green eyes skimmed over the letter once more before narrowing with a dark suspicion. The heavy parchment was turned over to reveal a bare back and then examined while upside down, sideways and the letter was even read backwards. The envelope it came in, also of a heavy, expensively sturdy material went through a similar process before its holder became quite cross.

"That's it?" The letter was released with a soft curse, message delivered, to make an ungraceful fall to the dark wooden surface of a cluttered desk where it was plucked up by adult, feminine hands of alabaster. "Little information given, perhaps a ploy of some sort..." the voice of a young male slightly out of breath trailed off into an uncertain pause. "Mother, it came by owl."

"Owl?" A woman repeated after a beat before letting out a disbelieving bark of laughter. "Let me guess, large and white?" The silence that followed was expectant, seemingly waiting for someone to say something. A few papers rustled, the letter ignored for the moment but far from forgotten. A minute passed. "You didn't feel anything, did you?" She spoke again, hesitantly concerned. "Compulsion, a sudden headache, light-headedness or some such?"

"Nothing. And it was a very large owl." For a moment, two pairs of green met before he shifted his weight and let his eyes fall to the floor. "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to have you checked over for any and all signs of manipulation." A flippant hand was waved through the air over the letter. "One can never be too careful-"

"Because there are scores of dangerous sycophants who would as soon poison you as whore themselves out," he finished the sentence, rolling his eyes in mild annoyance. There was a sound of a quill hitting the desk. "What?"

"Who told you that?"

"It might have been Uncle Ari," the boy said quickly, gleefully throwing the unfortunate man under the bus at the first sign of trouble. "He didn't say you disagreed!"

"I…don't, not exactly, look, " an exasperated sigh, "Don't use the word 'whore' unless you plan on cursing someone or getting yourself cursed. This goes double if the person in question is female. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

"Apollo!"

"I said okay! I understand! Titans…" he muttered under his breath. "What's a sycophant anyway?"

"Your friend Kyros," she said shortly, still irritated. A couple seconds later, she instantly regretted her words and tried to run damage control. "That's not to say that-"

"So if I was going to curse him anyway for being annoying, could I say it then?"

"No." This time her sigh had an undercurrent of gods give me strength. "Not even if he was very annoying, no."

"But I could call him a sycophant."

Part of being a Head and a mother was knowing how to pick your battles and she could almost sense that this was one particular scuffle she wasn't going to win.

"So long as it isn't in front of his mother." She located a blank piece of finely crafted paper and picked up her quill from where it had fallen. "I do have to wonder why the boy would stick around if you want to curse him for being annoying."

"Well, that's because he's a sycophant." Apollo sounded very smug and inordinately pleased with his new word, laughing at the look his mother gave him. "Hey, hey," he leaned over the desk, wisps of long dark hair escaping from his ponytail. "Are you going to find out why they want me to go to their school?"

"Harry Potter is quite important to magical Britain as it is. Being the Boy-Who-Lived comes with certain advantages."

Apollo frowned at the non-answer, resisting the urge to scratch his forehead where a peculiar lightning bolt shaped scar rested. "Advantages for who?"

His mother nodded, dark emerald eyes focused on the letter she was writing and hand absently brushing a lock of dark red hair behind her ear. A futile gesture, as the next move she made sent it swinging to the front once more. "Good question," she murmured before finishing her task with a flourish of her quill. "Let's find out shall we?"

The door to the study, a solid block birch wood and oak, opened soundlessly to admit a young man with an exotic look of black hair, olive skin and blue eyes. He smiled slightly, brushing off the black, high collared robes of a servant absently in an attempt to look more presentable. "Exalted Hera," he greeted the woman sitting at the desk softly and then glanced at the boy out the corner of his eyes. "Young Master Apollo." Hermes' soft smile turned impish as the boy groaned out loud.

"Not the 'young master' stuff again…"

"I have just a letter to deliver," Hera cut in, folding her finished reply letter into a neat rectangle. "It will be going to England, so use the seal." Hermes took the letter from her with both hands, held out as if he was receiving a gift and not a chore. "As for the delivery...Cosmos tends to make a regal impression."

Hermes response was wry. "By 'regal' you mean being an insufferable brat."

She raised an imperious eyebrow, slightly diminished by the amused smile on her face. "Perhaps," she drawled silkily. "He's rather vain as well, being such a beautiful bird. I happen to think he fits me perfectly." The expression on Hermes face was just a tad short of the classical 'uh oh' as Apollo snickered. She waited for about a minute to let him sweat, "Now, if you don't mind, Hermes."

"Five flights of stairs..." he moaned quietly but not quietly enough

"It's not going to kill you," Hera's tone was suddenly acidic and Hermes almost physically backpedaled away from her as if her voice had burned him, one hand reaching up towards his neck and fear flickering through his eyes.

"I'll get to it, right away, my Lady." He hastily bowed out of the room, closing the door to leave the mother and son pair alone.

Apollo watched him go. "Why was he scared? You used a contraction," he pointed out.

She made an ambiguous sound in her throat and he paused, unsure if it was meant to convey annoyance, amusement or if it was just to fill the space. "So I did."

He shook it off as a sudden thought struck him. "So when do I get a bird?"

Hera blinked up at her son, looking truly baffled for a split second before she schooled her features into something milder. "Didn't you just have your birthday last week?"

"Well, yeah, but you just reminded me that I haven't got one yet," Apollo stated innocently. "And I want one. Can I pick out what kind of bird I want?" he continued as if getting what he wanted was already a foregone conclusion. "Please? I don't think an eagle fits me like everyone else."

"Fine, what bird do you want?"

Grinning like a fisherman who had just caught one thiiis big on a hook, Apollo spread his arms out theatrically. "I want a buzzard!"

Hera's quill scraped along the page, turning an elegant signature into a wobbly line, the only outward expression of complete and utter surprise. "No."

"Aww, come on! It can fly too, and it's big enough for packages and the Blinds won't notice-"

"It's also hideous."

"Not all of them!" he insisted, getting ready to run up to his room and grab his book of native bird species so that she could see for herself that buzzards were good looking birds too! "The European Honey Buzzard looks like a regular hawk!"

"Then why don't you get a hawk?" Hera bit out. "A bird is as much of a status symbol as our home is and getting a buzzard for a bird is like getting a rat for a familiar. The answer is no, you're better than that."

Apollo wasn't quite finished. "But you just said I could pick the bird I wanted!"

"I said no."

"But you-"

"Apollo Herodes Inaros Nardessian!" Silence rang out in the study. Hera took a moment to compose herself as her son stared at her with fear written all over him, stubborn tears in his eyes. "You aren't going to win this one, just let it go," she warned him quietly, putting subtle emphasis on the word 'aren't' even as she felt her temper seethe in her gut. "We'll get you a suitable bird this weekend, alright?" Her son sniffled a bit. "Please don't cry, don't cry, ok? You're getting a bird, alright?"

He ran the sleeve of his overcoat across his eyes once and bit his lip. "I gotta pick a new one then," he offered hesitantly, desperate to make amends. "It'll be a good one, I promise. May I be excused?"

"Yes, of course," she allowed, looking slightly uncomfortable as she reached for another bill. "Just come back down before dinner, alright?" He nodded, and after a quick bow, escaped the tense silence. She stamped and sealed the bottom of her current project, only to move on to the next one with a machine like efficiency that contrasted with her shaking hands. In her mind's eye, she could see her temper getting the best of her and these hands would- "I am a horrible mother," she broke the quiet, just to hear a voice, repeating what she had once been told in this very room, slightly tweaked. "And life goes on."

By the time one of the servants stopped by the study to inform her that Patriarch Typhoeus had stopped by for dinner and that she had wallowed in her own guilt for so long that she was about twenty four minutes late and hadn't gotten anything done, Hera had already resigned herself to one simple fact.

The boy was getting his Hades-damned buzzard.

At the dinner table, Apollo was poking at his food in a manner not unlike a condemned man would poke at his last meal. "Kolokythoanthoi..." He muttered the name of the dish before him under his breath. He was nudging the appetizers around on his plate to space them out and hopefully make it look like he had eaten one or two. "Blegh."

Well, at least it wasn't lamb brains.

His mother's fork fell on her plate, making him wince at the sharp ring metal striking porcelain made. "I think I have watched you stall for long enough," she drawled with that tone of voice. "If you do not like the zucchini flowers, then separate it."

He was pretty tempted to point to Aries who had been doing the same thing with his food. In fact, he was going to do just that. "Uncle Ari isn't eating them either!"

The man hid a wince and hurriedly stuffed one into his mouth. "Nonshensh. I'm eaching them, shee?"

Hera was unamused. "I'm not his mother, but if I was I'd tell him that talking with food in his mouth is unbecoming of a Patriarch."

While Aries grumbled in non-words so Hera would have no reason to call him out on anything he said, Apollo speared the bud and with his knife pried it open so that the stuffing of feta cheese and herbs gushed out. He hated anything and everything to do with zucchini and aubergine, especially the flowers and leaves of those veggie abominations. Why she kept giving it to him to eat was beyond him. Probably as some sort of subtle revenge for that one time he had accidentally spat the stuff out into her face when he was six.

After he finished picking the carcasses of the flowers clean his plate was taken by one of the servants, a young woman with bright hazel eyes that he had seen around before. Maybe. Apollo was of the opinion that there really were just too many of them, and it was far too much effort trying to remember the names of the hired help.

The main course was the only thing he was allowed to pick for himself and as always, he got a plate of diced beef marinated in wine, olive oil, cinnamon and bay leaves, affectionately named 'drunkard's snack.' He had fallen in love with the name the first time he heard what it meant and the rest was history.

"You eat red meat so much, one would think you weren't Greek," was her observation as he tore into his dinner.

He stuck out his tongue. "Better meat than rabbit food," he sniped, jabbing a fork at her plate. Salad and fish...what was the point? You were hungry again in an hour anyway. "Besides, Blinds import it so much that it's almost staple."

Hera looked like she was about to say something, most likely another lecture on not letting go of tradition when Aries stopped her. "Let him be, he's a growing boy after all. Eating things with dubious names is part of that."

"And I suppose you would know, wouldn't you, Ari?" Hera guessed, letting herself be defused.

"Guilty as charged."

That was when Apollo had to say something. "So, just so you know, Uncle Ari is getting my allowance for next month." There was a moment of stunned silence, before Aries snarled out, "Why you little-," almost lunging across the table at the same time as Hera's suspicious "What are you talking about?"

"We played Exploding Snap before you came down-"

"Hera, I kind of need to talk to your son for a second about what 'man to man' means-"

"And he made me bet my allowance if I lost three times in a row!"

"I didn't make you do anything!"

Hera took in a deep breath and let it out in a rush. He could almost see her counting to ten. No good, still angry. "Typhoeus, you were gambling with my son in my hou-" Hera's tirade was cut off as her eyes unfocused, a very faint thrumming of magic washing over them. She stood up abruptly, hissing "I will deal with you later," in Aries ear, fingernail scraping his neck like a phantom garrote before sweeping out of the room.

Aries and Apollo continued to sit, not entirely sure what to make of her sudden departure.

Apollo bounced back first.

"You're in trouuuuublleee," he sang, right before he ditched the rest of his dinner in favor of avoiding Aries as he sprang out of his chair and came after him.

"Come back here, you little weasel!" There was the expensive sound of something shattering all over the tiled floor.

"Never!"

In the back of Apollo's mind, he wondered who their mysterious guest was, what they wanted. But it was the idle musings of a boy who was simply curious and wanted for nothing in the world. Sometimes he still woke up, feeling like he was in a stubborn dream that was just waiting for him to really believe before revealing itself as the lie it truly was. And every time he had given into that fear, running into her bedroom early in the morning blubbering and begging for a hug and wondering why someone like her would even want him-

He could still remember how she had put it, curling his fingers around her wand, the heat of her hand on his, the tingle of magic and the heaviness of her gaze.

His happiness had a price.

He was Apollo Herodes Inaros of the long line of Nardessian, son of Hera and Apollon.

His birthday was May, 13th.

And he could never be Harry Potter again.