Hello! This is my second attempt at an idea I've had since I was pretty young. However, I now have the tools to make the story happen… This will probably end up long, if I ever upload past the 1st chapter.

The day started out bright and clear, the air crisp with only a hint of cold. James and Lily Potter were readying themselves for Samhain, a wizarding holiday in which the spirits are closer to the veil than any other time. They had been invited to many Samhain balls that took place in lavish pureblood mansions, but had opted for attending a festival that would light up the streets of Rome. The twins, Harry and Charlus, would be taken care of by Peter Pettigrew.

James was reassuring Peter for the ninth time that the boys were easygoing; they would not be a problem. No matter, however, Lily could see apprehension in his eyes. The twins were happy babies, easy to calm and even easier to lay to sleep.

"If there are any problems whatsoever, get to us immediately, okay?" James said one more time, amusement in his eyes as Peter nodded frantically, glancing at the children that played happily on the floor.

Lily stepped into their conversation, tugging James towards the door. "We need to hurry! The portkey to the festival triggers soon." Peter smiled at her words.

"You'll all be fine," James stated as he followed his wife to the door. "We'll only be gone for a few hours… unless Lily decides to—"

Lily hit his arm, glaring at him with embarrassment in her eyes. Samhain last year had been an event, the first night in a while that the couple had been free. James remembered fondly that Lily had had too much drink and passed out the moment they stepped foot in the house. Rubbing the spot James knew would be sore in the morning, he sent a thumbs up to Peter before apparating with Lily to the portkey spot.

As soon as they left, Peter's good mood sank. He knew that tonight the Dark Lord would strike, and he could only wait, full of anxiety, for the wards to fall.

It didn't take long. Only 30 minutes after the couple left did Peter sense that feeling of just absence. That feeling only occurred when the magic surrounding a person dissipated—in this case, Voldemort himself was making an appearance.

The children were in their cribs. Peter had put them to sleep nearly as soon as James and Lily left, not being able to bear seeing the children that would soon be dead. There was somewhere deep in Peter that doubted his actions, doubted what he knew was complete and utter betrayal. However, rather than face it as the Gryffindor he once believed he could be, Peter opened the door to the man who would attempt to murder Harry and Charlus Potter.

Voldemort was what one would call a striking man. Where once his features may have been elegant and surely pureblood, now in their place was something reminiscent. His eyes were a crimson red, bright and unnatural. His nose was oddly muted, as if it wanted to disappear. Peter would otherwise think it to be amusing, but in this case, he found it quite terrifying.

Coupled with his inhuman grace, the man formerly known as Tom Riddle was a terrifying sight to see. He moved as if nothing could (or would) get in his way, and Peter supposed that it was true. The dark lord was known for his ruthlessness in battle, no matter the fact he rarely appeared in battle nowadays. He had the death eaters to do his dirty work.

Peter was drawn out of his brief contemplation by a cold hand gripping his chin. Idly, Peter compared the icy skin (scales?) to that of a snake. His face was forced up and he made eye contact with Voldemort, who then ripped through his mind.

Images of past experiences with the Potters flew by in Peter's mind as the dark lord dug deeper, the metaphorical claws of legilimency cutting their way into the rat-like man's past. There were scenes of the marauders bullying children younger than them, memories of the group learning their Animagus transformations.

Yet, Voldemort flew past those memories. He dove into the recesses of Peter's mind, seeking something darker—more specific. In the area the foreign mind was now lay only scenes of things Peter had wanted to forget.

Things like why he had chosen to betray his beloved marauders.

The dark lord's descent stopped as he found what he was looking for. The memory he had chosen was one that Peter often looked back on when trying to find the reasoning for his betrayal. James and Sirius were in their late teens, lounging on the floor of their dorm playing a game of exploding snap.

Peter had walked into the room, intending to ask the pair a question about the assigned transfiguration homework. Instead, the pair had zeroed in on their friend, targeting what they knew he hated about himself. The boys were known to be mean-spirited, and Peter knew (even then) that he never really had fit in with them. He was only there to be useful once a month.

He felt silly about this memory being one that caused him pain, then and now. With another gaze upon this moment, he wished with his entire being that he could forget it. Forget this stupid moment that had motivated him to do so much later in life. However, this is one thing that Peter knew made him stand out from the other Gryffindors in his life. He never forgot.

There was a feeling of satisfaction as Voldemort pulled out of Peter Pettigrew's mind, not bothering to repair any trails he had left. He withdrew his gaze from Peter's watery blue eyes.

"Weak. I understand why you did what you did. I will spare your life, but you'll be on your own." The dark lord's words were brief and relatively emotionless. Peter knew that now, as of much of his life, he was a simple means to an end.

Voldemort stepped into the house, reveling in the knowledge that there was no one in the home to stop him. Perhaps, after this night, he would be—finally—unstoppable. With that thought in his mind, he began the ascent into the twin Potter's bedroom.

The room was bathed in a soft blue light emanating from a bewitched mobile hanging above the crib. Voldemort felt that there should have been music from the mobile, as he had imagined as a child. Nevertheless, he made his way to the twins.

One twin had the striking red hair of Lily potter herself, as if the fire Prometheus had given mankind had been rebirthed into a new form. The other twin (Voldemort hadn't card to learned their names) opened his eyes, and Tom Riddle was surprised.

His eyes were the color of Avada Kedavra, the color of life frozen over, the color that most associated with death. He figured that this was appropriate, and aimed his wand at the child's heart. Whispering the fated words, that strikingly similar green shot out of the yew wand. As such, the eldest Potter twin breathed no more. He met the green eyes and knew that the boy's soul was gone.

Voldemort moved onto the next twin, who was now awake. Much like his brother, the child watched him with gaze that would be best described as uneasy, as if he knew that fate that had been his brother's. A difference between the two, Voldemort noticed, was not only their eyes, but the presence they held. The green-eyed twin was just… more. There was more to him. (He didn't notice himself refer to the child as if he wasn't dead)

The words were said once again. However, as most know this story goes, that dreaded Avada Kedavra rebounded, striking the dark lord and disembodying the man for the next 11 or such years.

Yet, something else miraculous happened. The horcrux created did not latch onto the one who had survived the curse, but rather, the one who didn't. The soul had not left the veil, and the horcrux dragged it back. Harry Potter's soul was once again in its body. This time, it had carried something with it, something that would change not only the Potters, but their entire world, which would soon not be limited to the wizards.

Harry Potter looked out the window in his room. The day was warmer than usual, and as such he had opted to stay inside rather than play with his brother. Charlus was out there having the time of his life all while sweating more than he ever had before.

Lily and James had bought the twins their own brooms for their birthday, warning the boys about bringing the items to Hogwarts. However, as soon as Harry and Charlus had managed to get alone, they hatched a plan to smuggle the brooms into school.

But… Hogwarts.

It would be fair to say Harry was nervous, or even anxiety ridden, but it would be an understatement. They had just turned 11, the year most wizarding children would attend their school of choice. The boys-who-lived were no exception, eagerly awaiting their own letters of acceptance.

However, Harry was still unsure. For years after the incident that thrust the twins into the spotlight, James and Lily had protected the boys. They had virtually disappeared for years, living in many places for equally many years. This led to the twins having a broad knowledge of the world outside England, much of which was unknown to the pureblooded aristocrats that populated the isles.

But when the boys were about 8, the Potters finally decided to settle back down in England. Potter Manor hadn't been lived in since James' parents died. Fleamont and Euphemia Potter had taken care of their ancestral home, keeping the wards strong, as well as just in general taking care of the home. When they died, James hadn't bothered to upkeep his childhood home, but rather opted to close the manor down.

When the family returned to England, the first place they stopped was that very manor. Harry would never forget that feeling, when the wards came alive. The magic had whipped around them as if sentient.

It ran up and down their bodies, smelling like fresh rain in spring, tickling their noses and overwhelming their senses. It tingled on the skin, and if you looked closely, Harry could have sworn he saw the magic itself.

When the sensation was done, the house was more alive, and at that was the moment Harry fell in love with magic.

James smiled down at his twins. "This is our new home—Potter Manor," he exclaimed, wide gestures that stemmed from the exhilaration left by the wards coming alive.

Charlus, too, had been excited about their new home. The twins had run up and down every hall the manor offered, which was many, peeking into more rooms than they could have imagined. Everything was mostly barren; any furniture having been covered by the house elves before they left. However, there were a few rooms (what most likely would have been sitting areas or parlors) that housed sleeping portraits.

It was later, after everything had been put back to normal, that James introduced his children and wife to the paintings. Charlus was bouncing off the walls still, more than excited about their new homes. The Potter ancestors followed his movements with amusement, commenting on the boy's energy—they then zeroed in on Harry himself, remarking on the odd color of his eyes. This was not the first time Harry had heard such and he knew it would not be the last.

Harry was now in the kitchen with his father. After hours in the sun, the man had decided to head back inside, citing the fact that he was "extremely dehydrated and required immediate nourishment," which simply meant it was time for lemonade. Charlus had not bothered to argue for once.

"Are you two ready for your Hogwarts letters?" The twin's father asked, winking. "I heard from a source that they should be coming soon…"

Charlus looked as if he was going to explode if the letters didn't arrive soon, Harry thought.

"Did Remus tell you? Or was it Siri? I know they're both just starting out as professors, but dad. I've been looking forward to this for years!"

"Look, I know, but it won't kill you to wait a few more days," James laughed as Charlus let out a dramatic sigh.

"Dad, it actually might kill him," Harry whispered, "I mean, look at him… he's already bright red!" He poked fun at Charlus' newly formed sunburn. The other boy really was red, and the burn would definitely hurt tomorrow.

The trio were interrupted as a frazzled-looking Lily burst through the doors, an owl following her. "The birds chased me! I apparated to the edge of the wards, just wanting to take a walk to my own house, dear merlin!" The green-eyed woman's hair was fuzzy, and she had obviously had to run to the manor. "These better be the Hogwarts letters, you boys have been waiting long enough."

Harry totally agreed, already grabbing a letter from the larger owl. It read as follows:

Mr. H. Potter,

The Last Bedroom on the Left

Potter Manor, [REDACTED]

Charlus had also grabbed his own from the tawny owl. The brother's shared a look, both unable to believe that the moment they had been waiting for was finally here.

"Now," James interrupted, "Keep in mind that I expect you to torment dear old 'Sniv until he quits."

Lily shot her husband a look that not only said "shut up," but also promised pain if he didn't.

Diagon Alley was crowded. However, this was normal. Teens swarmed out of stores with their hands full of bags, school supplies and not, before uttering the words to shrink their products. Magic swirled in the air around everyone, tasting sweet and bringing the sensation of something fresh.

Lily and James told the boys that they'd gather the needed potions ingredients, Lily mostly wanting to catch up with the owner of the apothecary, with who she was good friends. Now departed from their parents, Harry and Charlus were left at Madame Malkins to get fitted for school robes.

The pair were not alone. A smaller boy, who looked to be around their age, stood on a platform. He had platinum blonde hair that framed an equally pale face. His features could be described as pointed, but it was obvious that he was going to be quite handsome as an adult. The boy's grey eyes landed on the twins and they widened.

"The Boys-Who-Lived!" Cried Draco Malfoy.

He was right about who they were of course, but it made the twins uncomfortable nonetheless. "Uh… yeah, who are you?" Harry asked.

"Draco Malfoy, heir apparent of the Malfoy family," the boy (Draco, Harry supposed) stated, straightening and attempting to look as regal as he could while being surrounded with rapidly flying tape measures. One of the named magical devices prodded Draco's arm into a straight position much to the blonde's annoyance.

The twins glanced at each other. They both knew that the elder Malfoy was one of the dark lord's followers, no matter how much the man denied it. However, Harry wanted to give the boy benefit of the doubt.

"To be introduced formally," Harry smiled, "I'm Harry Potter, and this is my brother, Charlus." The mentioned brother looked guarded, obviously not as open to the son of a death eater as Harry was.

Draco smiled back, friendly enough without the pureblood haughtiness he normally would have carried. It was obvious he was desperate to make friends with the famous Potter twins, and Harry thought it was quite funny. Presumably, they were supposed to hate each other's guts.

"Have any idea which house you two will go into?" Draco prodded. Madame Malkin herself had entered the room again, Draco's robes in hand. The boy hopped off the platform.

"Gryffindor, of course!" Charlus declared. In Harry's opinion, he was a perfect fit for the house, as if he was bred for it.

Draco sighed. "That's no surprise, I suppose," he then looked at Harry. "You?" Madame Malkin smiled at the boy' interactions, most likely used to this sort of conversation.

The boy in question shrugged. In all honesty, he thought himself a perfect fit for Ravenclaw, but couldn't imagine being surrounded by children who studied all day. "I want to say Ravenclaw, but I honestly have no idea. I think I could see myself in Slytherin—"

The blonde's eyes lit up like a fireplace after incendio. "Oh, that would be wonderful! There's no other place I could go, you see, and it would be great to have someone new there…" he trailed off, seeing his parents waiting outside.

Harry recognized Lucius Malfoy from what Sirius had described him as: tall, supercilious, and blonde as the devil in Tennessee. Harry thought it was funny at the time, not understanding fully what he meant. However, he could definitely make the connection after seeing the man in person.

Draco deflated, quickly saying goodbye and hurrying to the couple outside, not wanting them to wait any longer.

Charlus was obviously glad the boy was gone. He turned to his brother, worriment clear in his hazel eyes. "Harry, do you really think you could be in Slytherin?"

Harry was beckoned by Madame Malkin onto the platform to get fitted for his own robes. As he climbed onto the platform, he explained. "I mean, I think so? You know I'm not like you and dad at least. Mom told me she's friends with the head of the house… it can't be all that bad."

Charlus looked unsure at that statement.

Within the next half hour the Potter twins finished their fittings, paying with the galleons Lily and James had given them. Madame Malkin had been impressed by the twin's politeness, insisting they come back later in the year for more robes, the next time with their parents. After escaping the woman, the pair headed for Flourish and Blotts (or Flotts, as Charlus suggested), the popular bookstore that would most likely sell what the boy's needed.

Entering the store, Harry was suddenly grateful that they had extra money. He immediately zeroed in on subjects he knew wouldn't be taught early on in Hogwarts. These included ancient runes, dueling, and arithmancy. Sirius himself taught dueling, and would probably teach Harry if he asked, but the boy felt safer teaching himself first, knowing that Sirius would not let up. Remus taught defense against the dark arts, a class Harry knew neither himself or Charlus would have trouble in.

He chose a few books on the later-taught subjects before grabbing what was necessary. He had to pull Charlus away from The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, as he was snickering at the section about themselves.

After paying, it was time to receive their wands. The pair made their way to Ollivanders, not before stopping to ogle at the new brooms in windows along the way.

Ollivanders had a run-down storefront, a single dusty wand on a platform in the outward-facing window. It was as if the store remembered all the people who had ever come through its doors. Harry spotted James and Lily talking animatedly to an old man who was just within the doors. As the pair hurried towards their destination, the couple waved them in.

"This is Ollivander, boys. Gave us our very first wands, as well." James looked on in fondness.

The man, who seemed exceedingly frail, nodded and tapped his temple. "11", Mahogany, pliable, if I remember correctly… very well-suited for transfiguration?"

The boy's father nodded happily. "Oh, yes! Merlin knows I put that to use," he winked at Harry and Charlus.

Ollivander looked towards Lily, smiling in his knowing way. "10 and a fourth", Willow, attuned for healing and charms, swishy!" He exclaimed, much to Lily's amusement.

"I'm part of the head healing team at St. Mungos," Lily explained, "My wand has helped me so much throughout that whole experience!"

The old man nodded, and again Harry saw that knowing look in his eyes. "The wand chooses the wizard, dear… Now! Let's get these boys their own, yes?"

The family finally entered the store then. Harry noticed (not for the first time) that magic permeated the bricks of the store itself, exposed beams carried the weight of hundreds, if not thousands, of years of magic. Shelves upon shelves houses powerful instruments, and Harry was nervous; not knowing if he should feel a pull already.

Charlus seemed to sense the same as Harry did, giving his brother a look that said "Holy shit!"

Ollivander immediately got down to business, asking Charlus which hand was his preferred. After the boy held out his left, Ollivander hummed and pulled down a wand from one of the top shelves. "Blackthorn and unicorn hair, 11", quite flexible."

The moment Charlus reached for the wand it twisted away from him, emitting sparks the color of rot. Ollivander chuckled at the look on Charlus' face (one of bewilderment) before turning away to search for another. "Definitely not. Let's see…"

This went on for a while, and Harry was beginning to fear for his own match. Finally, however, Ollivander pulled down a wand from the dustiest corner of his shop. "This wand is very old, but… I wonder…"

"Aspen and phoenix feather, 12", flexible to a low degree…"

Charlus reach for the wand, and it snapped into his hand. Warmth filled the room, magic filling Charlus' being. Smiling, he said softly, "This is it. This is the one!"

Ollivander nodded pensively, staring at Charlus. "This is the brother wand of one Albus Dumbledore. This phoenix feather came from one who hasn't been seen since the 1880s… this is a very powerful wand, young man. This is one for revolutionaries. You will go on to do great things…"

Charlus looked in awe at the wand in his hand. It was a very light color, the hilt almost looking as if the wood had been intertwined with gold. He felt… unsure about his worthiness for such a wand. He turned to Harry, and looked as if he was going to cry. Harry did suppose that being compared to Albus Dumbledore himself was too much for an 11 year -old.

Next up was Harry, who was extremely anxious about this whole ordeal. Ollivander sized him up, asking "Which arm do you prefer?" To which Harry held up his right hand.

The old man hummed thoughtfully, turning swiftly around and grabbing a wand box off a middle shelf that seemed very new. "Beech wood, 12" and a half, wise beyond its years…"

Harry grabbed the wand, and a shrieking sound was heard throughout the shop. Startled, he dropped it.

"Dear merlin, no. That was awful. Let's see here…" This scene, much like Charlus' before, went on for a time period that seemed to last for hours. The elder Potters were getting antsy, and Charlus had long disappeared into the back rooms, most likely doing something he shouldn't.

Finally, Ollivander produced a wand that Harry felt an immediate pull to. When unsheathed, the wand was surrounded by a haze that Harry decided felt familiar—and good. He reached for it subconsciously, and was filled with that unparalleled feeling of reward. This wand was the one destined for him.

Ollivander clapped loudly, jarring Harry enough from his focus on the stick of wood. "Interesting! That wand, much like dear Charlus', is the brother to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Holly and phoenix feather, 11" long… suitable for wide ranges of magic… though, I feel you will carve yourself a path with this instrument whether the wand likes it or not."

Now, this was odd. However, Ollivander kicked the Potters out of his shop, muttering about "damn complicated children."

Harry finally had his wand, and within a month, would be studying magic at Hogwarts.

Percy Jackson was 11, barely finishing 6th grade, and he was pissed. It was supposed to be the start of summer, a time for celebration and vacation. Instead, he was stuck with bastard-of-a-man Gabe and Antigone in an apartment that suited maybe 1 person, not 4. To make it all worse, his mother was gone.

Percy is what most would call a momma's boy, and he lived up to it. He idolized the woman, admired her for her work and for the fact that she took care of her children, despite her marriage to a man who did not deserve her. She worked long hours to provide, even if most of the money went up Gabe's ass.

Yet Percy couldn't do anything about this part of his life. That lack of control bothered him, and he wished for days on end that something—anything could take him away from their family.

Sometimes, he even wished he could do it himself.

But for now, Gabe had to stay. It would just be Anti and Percy for a few hours until Sally came home. Percy had scars from the times he had been alone with the man, and he knew Anti did too. She was just more secretive about it, which worried Percy.

Usually the man would hold off when both were home, but there was an edge in the air that only came when the man had been drinking more than usual. As Percy entered the small room that's served as both his and Antigone, he recognized the burn marks on the dirty carpet.

Cigarettes. These were reminiscent of times when Gabe was too nervous to lay hand on the children—needless to say, those nerves faded quickly.

Beer cans were strewn about the room, most leaking stale liquid onto the nasty floor. Percy sighed before falling onto the bed squeezed between a dresser and a wall. He stared at the ceiling, analyzing the various stains that Percy swore changed every night.

His intense brooding was soon interrupted by yelling coming from the dining room (where Gabe had been hosting his poker game). Nervous, Percy tiptoed to the doorway of the room, seeing Antigone.

The siblings were very similar in looks, but where Percy's hair was inky black, Antigone had taken after their mother; brown locks that were notoriously hard to keep contained. However, the children did share the same shade of blue-green for their eyes. Much to Percy's ire, they never let him hide any emotion.

But looking at the seen in front of him, Antigone hadn't even attempted to hide hers. She had taken the taxi from her school and was currently being coerced into giving up the remnants of the $20 bill. Huffing and throwing her hands in the air, she threw the money at Gabe before heading towards Percy with a look in her eyes he knew well.

Percy darted for their room, happy to see his sister, but still anxious. Antigone saw him, her eyes softening. "Hey butthead, how was your year?"

The younger Jackson smiled, his fear that she would just rant dissipating. "It was a year. I missed you, Anti," he exclaimed, moving in for a hug. Antigone grinned in response, embracing her brother.

"I caused mayhem at my school, as promised… but there's something I need to share with you." Antigone suddenly grew serious, Percy noticing a tremor in her that wasn't present before. She breathed deeply out before continuing. "I think… there's something bad following us. I don't know if you've noticed, but there was always something wrong about all those encounters…"

She paused, allowing Percy to think. He remembered when he was younger an incident involving a man who had tried to take his sister and him. No matter what, they could never make out his face, features like two eyes having blurred into one. Whatever Antigone was saying, Percy knew immediately that it was important.

"I had a run in with another… thing like that. Someone who managed to weasel their way into my life and then attack me. I know you have to be like me, Percy, and we need to get our before—"

Antigone had gotten almost desperate and it was scaring her brother. The tremor mentioned before had grown. However, all was interrupted by Sally Jackson's appearance in the doorway to their room. Both siblings jumped up and ran to hug their mother, serious talk forgotten for now.

"Mom! I thought you'd be home later!" Antigone cried, burying her face into her mother's shirt, breathing in her scent. It had been too long since she had been home.

Sally smiled tiredly, tousling Percy's hair much to his chagrin. "I decided I needed to be home for you two. In fact, I have something planned," she began, all tiredness leaving her. "I booked the cabin in Montauk, just for the three of us!"

Antigone, who had pulled back from Sally, glancing excitedly at Percy, who was just as happy about the new development. The trio hadn't been to the cabin in years, money usually being short on hand, as well as time. Yet it seemed like this would be a treat not had for years—exactly what they all needed.

Before long, things were packed and the Jacksons were all hurrying towards the door, ready to leave Gabe behind.

However, nothing was ever simple and quick when he was around.

The man had noticed the twins packing, and was suspicious as to why they were leaving so soon. Sally had tried to explain that it was a surprise, but Gabe was having none of it.

He hit Sally Jackson, not for the first time. The situation had only deteriorated from there, the siblings helping their mother up before bolting for the door. Now, the trio were sitting silently in Gabe's car (which they had stolen).

"Mom, we need to get rid of him," Percy began. Antigone shot him a warning glance about going further, but he plowed forward. "He has done so much to us—all of us, but especially you. You don't deserve this, please—"

And that was when the minotaur slammed into the car.

Percy was in and out of consciousness for a while, only remembering vague images of something inhuman: ten feet tall, the head and legs of a bull, but the torso of a man. Before he was out again, Percy could have sworn he saw Grover, his sister's best friend.

Other than those images, he had no idea what had happened or where he was when he woke up. When he did, the room was empty and he ached. Not only did that ache feel like a giant bruise all over his body, but there was an empty feeling in his heart, as if someone he loved dearly was gone.

Remembering what must have been a crash, Percy shot up before clutching his head, which had burst into a headache, winding him. He was shoeless, his clothes ripped and just overall ragged. Nevertheless, he jumped off his cot and stumbled to the door, trying to figure out where he was.

The hall was what he'd call normal, if a bit worn. It ended in a large open room that led outside. Once in the doorway outside, he froze.

Wherever he was, it overlooked fields and fields of strawberry plants, kids his age and older tending to them. There were cabins arranged in a semicircle around what seemed to be a bonfire. It was midday, the sun bright and the sky clear. Curiously, he noted, clouds looked to skirt around the edges of an invisible forcefield surrounding the… camp, Percy decided.

The next thing he noticed was his sister, sitting at a picnic table with a blonde girl, Grover, and… a horse? No, a man.

Confused, but not willing to question it, he headed towards the party. Pain jolted up his legs with every step. Antigone looked to be in a heated conversation, but she froze when she caught sight of Percy.

"Oh my god, what are you doing up?!" She appealed, looking her younger brother up and down with worried eyes. "You took it the worst, it was awful…" She trailed off, misty-eyed at an event Percy didn't know.

The other three (including the horse-man) also seemed surprised at Percy being wake. Sure, he was in a fuck-ton of pain, but he could handle that, and has before. He wordlessly sat next to the spot Antigone had vacated before. Percy carefully stretched out his leg, wincing as pain tore through his knee.

"How are you even walking? We haven't even—" the blonde girl started, impressed.

Antigone cut in, standoffish. "We've both handled our fair share of pain. Why didn't you treat him as you did with me?"

The blonde narrowed her eyes, not appreciating being spoken to with that tone. Standing to Antigone, she said "We didn't know if he was a demigod, ambrosia would have burned him alive. You don't know anything, so don't start."

The horse-man stopped her, no matter the girl looking as if she had a lot more to say. "Annabeth, stop. He made it into the camp, so he's most definitely a demigod," he stated calmly. Percy noted the girls name, as well as the strange word the man had use. Demigod?

"Percy, we have a lot to explain," Antigone started, touching him tentatively. "A lot."

And explain they did. The horse-man was named Chiron, the centaur from legend who had taught hundreds of demigods before. Demigods, or half-bloods, were the children the gods of Olympus had had with mortals on earth.

Percy had inquired as to how they knew he and Antigone had been such. Grover stared at the ground before explaining that the camp had eyes on them for quite a while, keeping tabs on the siblings as they grew. Next, Grover explained that as demigods grew older their "scent" grew stronger, attracting monsters.

That explanation made more sense than Percy cared to admit.

Antigone and Percy were currently unclaimed, with no god to their name. Chiron obviously had an idea as to who their father was, but kept it to himself. Percy decided to approach him at a later date.

The worst news came last.

"Percy… our mom, she—" Antigone's voice shuddered and she couldn't go on. Grover put a comforting arm around her before looking at Chiron, as if saying "This is your job."

Annabeth wisely didn't speak up, which was probably for the best. Antigone obviously didn't think highly of her, that feeling transferring to Percy.

"Your mother, Sally Jackson, gave her life to save the both of you."

Percy's world imploded. Coupled with the pain he had been ignoring, the boy promptly passed out.

The next time he awoke he wasn't alone. Annabeth hovered over him, holding a spoon of something that Percy was obviously supposed to ingest. At this point, he didn't care, taking the spoonful.

In the next few seconds, Percy's mouth exploded in flavor. His mother's chocolate chip cookies, the sourest candy she could find (Percy was a sour connoisseur), and the simple warmth of fire lit on the Montauk beach. Immediately, Percy felt better. He knew that whatever it was, the substance was dangerous, and addictive.

Annabeth stepped back as Percy sat up, this time not winding himself by the simple movement. "You took that much better than your sister did. She's messy."

Percy laughed a little. "Oh yeah, she's been like that since we were little, our mom—" he stopped abruptly. Oh yeah.

The blonde smiled sadly. "I know what it's like to lose someone, too. I lost my… family," she had stumbled on the word "family," but Percy decided not to ask. "If you need someone to talk to, you can always ask me or Luke. He's the tall blonde one with the scar… I promise he's not as intimidating as he appears."

Percy filed that information away for later, not knowing how he'd feel in the future. Who knows, maybe he would need some support.

Annabeth then led Percy on a tour around the camp which was appropriately named "Camp Half-Blood." She showed him the food court and gave a brief tour of the cabins, stopping in front of a run-down simple wood one. A number "11" was engraved above the door, strangely glowing.

Once the duo stepped in, Percy was overcome by the amount of people staring at him. Several children of all races and in various states of dishevelment stared at him and Annabeth. Nervously coughing, the girl bid him adieu.

An older boy stepped over a sleeping bag to greet Percy. He was a good height, with blonde hair cut short and a scar that ran over one eye. This must be the Luke Annabeth had mentioned.

"Welcome to the Hermes cabin!"

The next few weeks passed quickly, Percy and Antigone sleeping back to back every night in a small space they shared. They were introduced to weapons as well, the two finding themselves very well attuned to swords. However, an event called "capture the flag" was approaching.

As Luke had explained (Percy had become attached to the older boy, eager to learn all he had to teach), the game was simple: capture the other team's flag. However, the Hermes cabin was going up against the Athena cabin this time, and things were supposed to be intense. As he had never faced any real battle, the prospect of real swords and other weapons scared him. Percy was sure that Antigone was just as nervous, but she hid it well.

As the night came closer, that nervous feeling in the pit of Percy's stomach grew, doubling at once as silence fell over the dining hall.

Chiron had stood, a small smile on his bearded face. "Tonight's capture the flag will begin shortly. I expect fair games between all… preparations commence!"

Everyone scattered, Luke tugging Percy (and thus, Antigone) to the cabin. They were then equipped with blades, simple and worn celestial bronze. Armor was also provided, although it was ill-fitted and made with thick leather, difficult to move in.

Luke apologized, explaining that the older campers got better armor, and that the Hermes cabin was overcrowded, there not being enough supplies for everyone. Something off flickered across the demigod's face when he said that, catching Percy's attention.

However, it was soon forgotten when a horn sounded. The trio made their way to a clearing, on either side of which were demigods ready for battle. Chiron sounded his horn again, the sound searing its way into Percy's memories. Capture the flag had begun.

Luke immediately headed into the woods, beckoning the siblings to follow him. As they walked, he spoke "I'm going to position you two at the flag itself. You won't see too much action, if all goes to plan, but there's always a chance, y'know?" Luke stopped by a creek, pointing to where a simple flag stood pushed into the earth. A small creek flowed nearby, good positioning for if an enemy managed to sneak by, as the water would make sound no matter what.

He bid the two good luck and promptly disappeared into the forest, most likely going to go kick ass.

Antigone and Percy stared at each other before the elder sighed, plopping down onto the ground and removing her helmet. Percy opted to stand, toeing a rock.

"This sucks so freaking much." Antigone stated it matter-of-factly, leaving no room to argue, not that Percy wanted to. He wholeheartedly agreed. He had wanted to at least do something, not stand around and wait for an ambush that probably wouldn't even happen.

However, it seemed that they had spoken too soon. Percy heard steps before spinning around, looking towards the creek. There was a small group of about 4, all brawny. Antigone whispered to Percy, "Clarisse and her brothers. They're the kids of Ares."

"Of course he'd leave the new kids at the flag," the daughter of war lamented, "This will be too easy." With that, Antigone drew herself up, forgetting her helmet and readying her blade. Percy felt foolish as the only one with the silly plumed headgear, losing his as well. Steadying himself, he, too, drew his blade.

Clarisse smiled, leaping forward to start the battle. Blades clashed, foul words exchanged as each thrust was parried and pushed back, the Jacksons managing to hold off their assailants. Annabeth almost seemed stunned as her group was pushed back.

More people (mostly those on Luke's side) gathered to watch, cheering on "the new kids."

However, Antigone made a mistake, falling. Percy then was alone, soon being thrust to the ground as well. He joined his sister in the creek.

Strangely, however, instead of the bone-tired he had been expecting after his small fight, Percy felt energized. He could feel Antigone was as well.

The children of Ares pushed forward, preparing themselves to fight against the group that had before gathered to watch. Almost as Clarisse had left the creek, Percy reached out, tripping her.

Antigone and Percy stood, readying themselves for another fight that promptly took place.

In all honesty, Percy knew his bout of adrenaline would fade. However—it didn't. The Athena kids were tiring, the Hermes children cheering Percy and his sister on. That rush Percy felt stayed, any nervousness about the situation fading.

Just as the duo had disarmed Clarisse and her siblings, all went silent. While the battle had taken place, it seemed as if cheering had drawn more campers to the area, including Luke and Annabeth themselves. Percy and Antigone took notice of the silence and froze before turning.

A hellhound had made its appearance in the woods behind the creek. Blood red eyes and a black coat that betrayed powerful muscles, the monster was a sight to behold—which made it all the more terrifying. Before either sibling had a choice, it lunged straight for Antigone.

Percy panicked, as his sister fell with the beast on top of her, wishing that he could help, just do anything.

This was the same sort of helplessness he felt around Gabe. Yet now Percy knew he had the power to stop it, to do something this time.

He thrust his hands out, the water in the creek reacting in time. Gasps were heard as ice shards punctured the hellhound's side, causing it to burst into golden dust that coated the girl underneath.

When Percy managed to sneak a look at his sister, all he saw was blood.

Chiron had his bow ready, appearing at once when the monster had come. He lowered it, watching the scene unfold further.

Percy, too, stood silent as water coated his sister, falling away to leave clear skin—no blood no marks. Robotically, he helped her up, the two standing side by side in the creek, utterly alone.

Silence still permeated the air as twin signs floated above their heads. Two tridents, identical.

Awe and shock were written across the camper's faces, all while Luke and Chiron were curiously unsurprised.

"Children of Poseidon: earthshaker, stormbringer, father of horses. Hail, Perseus and Antigone Jackson, children of the Sea God."

Thank you for reading! There are some inconsistencies I now, but this is rough. A very rough 1st chapter. Please tell me what you think!