Son of Hermes
Arrowsbane
I might only have one match, but I can make an explosion
Luke is just barely seventeen when Hermes sends him on the quest to the garden of the Hesperides.
He is bitter and broken by the loss of Thalia, holding himself together for Annabeth's sake with duct tape made of fake smiles and laughter that sounds just a little too staged. His dreams are haunted by the smaller blonde's screams for her pseudo-sister and the harsh words of Zoe Nightshade from so long ago when she warned Thalia that he would fail her when she needed him the most.
Luke is broken, but he is not yet beaten, and so he staggers on. He will bow to nobody.
The Oracle's words linger in his mind 'stand before Ladon weary and alone/only green fire can return you to home.' and he sincerely hopes that by fire sending him home she does not mean the underworld because he is afraid of what he might find there. He has taken no companions on this quest, if he is to face Ladon alone it will not be because others have died for him.
The journey across the continent is hard but he is lucky enough to remember the old safe-houses he built with Thalia all those years ago, even if he finds it hard to sleep at night in a room so full of memories.
By the time Luke reaches California, he is tired and dirty, missing Cabin eleven more than anything in the world. It's early morning and a Saturday, the gardens of the Hesperides can only be accessed by sunset, so he makes use of his God-given (inherited, technically) talents in order to break into a school to use the showers in the locker-rooms and raid the fridges before beginning the hike up Tamalpais, the current location of Mount Othrys: seat of the Titans.
The second he steps onto the silvery grass, the nymphs sense him and shimmer into existence. He does his best to befriend them, but they are immortal and immortals have long memories – Hera's fury over Heracles stealing an apple brought much humiliation and so the daughters of Pleione are rightfully suspicious of handsome half-bloods walking into their territory. They shout for Ladon to wake and then scamper to safety leaving him to face the terrifying beast.
Luke dodges the first hissing head, and the second before being sent flying when Ladon's tail whips lightning-fast through the air. He rolls with the force of the blow and manages to get his feet underneath his body and stand. Then Ladon opens his many mouths and fire spews forth before Luke can even scream. His last thought is that the fire does not burn like he expects it to. When he opens his eyes, he is no longer in the sunset garden.
Hannah is fourteen and jaded when the boy with blue eyes does a barrel roll into her life.
She is tired of the ever-present pendulum of trust that makes up the school body of Hogwarts, tired of running the gauntlet, tired of returning to Privet Drive each summer only to emerge with a little less of herself each fall. Her faith is shaken with the knowledge of Sirius being denied a trial, her hope for happiness trampled on and dulled by the aching cold that the Dementor's left inside her bones.
Hannah feels like a ghost, like an echo of a girl, but she will not go quietly. A flame reignites inside her.
October thirtieth of nineteen-ninety-three finds her sitting on the heavy stone steps of the entrance to the Great Hall beneath the invisibility cloak, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand. She is bored, wanting to test a theory that if proven correct, will confirm her deep-seated suspicion that Albus Dumbledore is indeed the crack-pot old fool that many from the serpent house proclaim him to be.
She has no need for fame or fortune, so the slip of paper that she levitates across the age-line and into the eager bluebell flames that dance so hungrily does not read a name, but a sarcastic and half-hearted wish. Ten seconds later and Hannah dares to breathe; twenty and she feels disappointment slip into her heart and mind. Thirty seconds more and she turns to leave. She does not see the blue flames flicker green for a mere second, does not know that the Gods have heard her plea or that she has finally succeeded where all others have failed.
The hours tick past, and Hannah finds herself sat at the Halloween feast wanting nothing more than to be tucked up in bed with the photo album of her parents. Halloween will always be a reminder of the life she will never have, but the feast is mandatory and not even she is granted leave.
The Goblet of Fire sits dead center of the Head table on a raised plinth so everybody can see the bright blue flames flicker in the dim light of the hall. She eats slowly and with lackluster, pushing the food around on her plate so that it looks like she has made a decent effort. Finally, she is able to push her plate away and the tableware melts away from existence leaving only their drinks behind.
The Goblet blazes red and a piece of charred paper flutters down into Dumbledore's waiting hand. He clears his throat and reads: "The champion for Durmstrang, will be Viktor Krum." Applause for the first champion storms the hall in a cacophony of cheers and stomping. The dark haired Bulgarian slowly rises to his feet and slouches the entire way up to the head table where he is directed into an antechamber.
A few seconds later, the flames change to red again and this time it is Beauxbatons that applauds the shimmering beauty that is Fleur Delacour. Ron drools over the blonde girl while Hermione sniffs disdainfully at a pair of girls in blue robes who actually burst into tears over not being chosen. Hannah is too interested in the final name to care. Hogwarts will be next.
The third, and supposedly final, jet of red flame almost singes Dumbledore's robes when the old wizard reaches up a little too quickly to snag the parchment.
"Cedric Diggory," He calls out proudly and the Hufflepuff table explodes with joy. The handsome sixth year pushes to his feet and walks the length of the hall basking in the sheer love of his housemates. It would have been a little sickening if it hadn't been for the fact that their pride and joy was completely without ulterior motive, was not so genuine.
Dumbledore smiles once Cedric too has disappeared and begins waving his hands for quiet so he can give his closing speech, only to be interrupted as the Goblet blazes one more time, this time burning with green flames instead of red. Dumbledore reaches up to snatch the fourth piece of paper, unsurety is written across the ancient face, and then reads in a clear and steady – if a little baffled – tone: "A real hero?"
There is a beat and Hannah feels a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach. Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. It worked. How the hell did it work? Dumbledore laughs merrily, tossing back his head.
"It seems we have a joker in our midst," he says happily, clearing his throat to continue, only the green flames burn brighter and images begin to appear over the golden cup. Faces appear, flashing through a long list of unknowns at high speed until it settles on the image of a boy with blonde hair, blue eyes and a wickedly devious smile. The hologram pulses with a golden glow once, before it shows a different sequence of images, this time of the same boy in a dozen different situations, a bronze blade in one hand and a shield in the other – a chronicle of adventures, even featuring one of the blonde wielding a golf club to fend off a monster.
The Goblet belches a mighty gust of fire, spewing out and onto the stone flags that make up the floor and when the flames clear, the teen is stood before them, sword drawn and muscles tense as though he was bracing himself for a heavy blow. Silence reigns until a first year at the Hufflepuff table drops his cup with a clatter. Then the blonde warily opens his eyes, blinks in surprise, and lowers his sword. He looks around the room in complete bafflement, and when he opens his mouth, he says:
"If this is death, Hades really needs to redecorate his waiting room."
AN.
Somebody kill these plot bunnies, I beg of you. Seriously. They breed like rabbit slippers under the bed and it's exhausting.