{Those of you who have read Elizabeth Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, totally forget that story. Elizabeth is in this one, but most of the things I put in it are irrelevent.
Those of you who haven't read that story, I have one thing to say... Enjoy! }
PROLOGUE:
Mertile Arnald clutched her three year old son in one arm, and hoisted her wand the other hand. Behind her, three gorgons were flying too fast to keep track of, she shot killing curses at them blindly.
"Mum, what's happening?" the boy cried in her arms. "I'm scared," his blond hair was flying around his face, his sky blue eyes round and full of fright.
"I'm sorry, Jeod, my darling," she cooed, trying to keep him from crying out as she blasted another gorgon. "It'll be all over soon,"
"Give us the demigod!" one of the gorgons screeched behind her, trying to get ahead of Mertile's broom.
"Over my dead body!" Mertile yelled over her shoulder. She flew faster on her broom down the street, gripping with only her legs as one gorgon hit the ground, turning to ash.
"We're almost there," Mertile said to Jeod, who was wailing, when there was a deafening screech and Mertile fell off of her broom. She and Jeod tumbled from fifty feet in the air, coming to a slower pace as Mertlie shouted "Aresto Momentum," then dropped.
The last gorgon laughed in triumph. "You'll never live. Give him to me,"
"Never!" Mertile yelled, ready to make her final stand. The gorgon slashed at her just as she let loose her last curse. Both of them fell to the ground.
Jeod had run away away from the monster, tears running down his face, he watched as his mother get slashed. "Mummi!" he cried racing to her. He clutched her hand, ash surrounding them, and cried.
"Jeod. Listen," Mertile croaked. "Don't ever forget who you are. You're a demigod, Jeod," she said, her breathing getting slower. "Someone will come to get you when you're ready," she said. With her last once of strenght she smiled at him. "I love you," Her eyes closed and she died.
XxX
Narcissa Malfoy watched the proceedings from the comfort of her living room window, not lifting a finger to help. She walked outside and into the street with her wand, muttering a spell under her breath. Mertile and the ash gradually disappeared, and Jeod started to cry again.
"That's my mum. What are you doing?" he wailed.
"Hush boy," Narcissa snapped, and he reverted to quiet sobs. She picked him up, talking soothingly to him. "It's alright. You're safe now. What's you're name,"
"I'm *sob* Jeod. Someone *sniffle* will find me," he said, crying into her shoulder.
Narcissa looked back at the window to her own two year old son staring at her with a growing scowl on his face. This boy had no mother, so Narcissa was going to take him in. "You're safe now, Jeod," she said again. "I'm going to take care of you,"
That's exactly what the Malfoy family did for ten years, until the summer when Jeod turned 13, and he was taken to Camp-Half Blood by satyrs.