A/N: OMG THANK YOU FOR ALL THE NICE REVIEWS, YAY!
There has yet to be a single MAJOR complaint about the first chapter!
SQUEEEE!
Okay, deep breaths, girl (Huge, dramatic inhale)
Enjoy the chapter!
OH! Also, I made a bit of a mistake last chapter.
This is NOT DZ2's challenge, but BarakTheSlayer's. Fixed it in the Summary, as I got the challenge from DZ2's FORUM, but yeah, there you go! ^-^
CHALLENGE: Forbidden Child Challenge
CATEGORY: HP PJO Xover
PLOT: Harry finds out some interesting things about those he called his friends, so when a voice in his head tells him to go to Long Island, he doesn't hesitate to get away from the wizarding world. he arrives just in time to see a black haired, green eyed boy stab a minotaur...
GUIDELINES:
Harry is the child of a maiden goddess (Artemis, Hestia or Hera)- Must (Accepted)
Harry is accepted by his mother, and they eventually have a true mother-son relationship - (Accepted)
Harry's old friends turn against him - (Accepted: Ron & Hermione)
Evil Dumbledore - (Accepted)
Harry and Percy have a close relationship - (Accepted)
Harry/Any other than those listed below - (Accepted)
Light or Grey Harry - (Accepted: Grey)
Other Demigod children at Hogwarts (E.G. possibly Luna or the twins) - (Accepted)
FORBIDDEN:
Harry/Annabeth
Harry/any HP character
Harry/Luke (Not Homophobic, but no)
Good Dumbles
Harry's friends not abandoning him
Harry working with Dumbles or Voldemort
Harry helping Kronos
For Want of Family
Chapter Two
Hermione had been petrified, and Ron had broken his nose and screamed at him for it, yelling at him that it was his fault, and why couldn't he just go die like his parents and...
Well...
Harry had set his robes on fire.
It was an accident! Ron had just made him so mad and Hestia had been painstakingly teaching Harry how to access his fire-powers, which he had inherited from her, and, well...
Yeah...
Fire...
"There is a reason it is the most willful of the Elements, my son," Hestia informed him in amusement, and Harry wasn't sure he'd ever get used to his mother popping up in his head like she tended to do any time he was alone and not near a hearth. "Anger, passion, determination, excitement... These are major emotions that will affect the will of a flame. You will gain control with time, my dear," she reassured him as he morosely scrubbed out a cauldron without magic, as Snape sneered coldly at him from his seat across the room.
I hope you're right, he thought toward his mother as he ducked his head inside the cauldron cautiously, in order to reach the very bottom.
"You are my son, my Harry," she reminded affectionately, and Harry felt the chill of the dungeon leave him as phantom warmth curled through his body, feeling like his mother's hugs. "The flame is ours, and it will bow its stubborn head to your will soon enough."
If the flame belongs to you and me, he thought, absently grimacing as a strange blue-green glob of ruined potion dripped from his dragon-hide gloves, to sizzle ominously on the ground before Snape vanished it. Then why is Floo Travel so horrible? There was a feeling of amusement, and Harry's hair ruffled in an invisible wind, the smell of smoke and fire curling around him briefly as his mother laughed in his mind.
"Fire gets excited, like a young child with a new toy," she explained, as Harry finished his cauldron and moved to the next, with a sharp sneeze from the smell of the ruined potion within it. "Whether it is excited because it recognized you were my son, from the green-powder the Wizards use to travel, or just the idea of being able to consume something new, the magic of the flame reacted, and will tend to send you off course and off balance until you get better control of it. It imbues a piece of energy within those that travel with it, and, as most mortal Wizards are more inclined to an element, depending on their magics inclination, it will affect them greater or less. Fire is a wild thing, my son, and cannot be caged, only temporarily tamed."
"If you say so," he muttered aloud, and yelped when Snape sent a Stinging Hex his way accordingly. Sending the Potions Master a dark look (and gaining a challenging eyebrow-raised look in return), Harry grit his teeth and got back to work. When can I go to one of the Camps you told me of? Harry whined unhappily, speaking of the Demigod Camps his mother had told stories of, mostly of a Camp in America called Camp Half-Blood, which had stronger protections than any other Camp, and resided in New York.
"Patience, my son," Hestia soothed softly. "You have a Destiny in the Wizarding World, and your education is important. Do not worry, my son," she whispered, and Harry felt her begin to pull back gently, like a fire dying down to a coal, still capable of heat for a long while, but not quite so bright or obvious. "You are not alone here." And then she was gone, and Harry was once more by himself in his own head, forced to focus on scrubbing.
He wondered what she meant, by him not being alone.
~(Line Break)~
"Oi! Potter!" A voice called; Harry flinched, startled, and turned around quickly, eying the older Hufflepuff that had followed him to an empty corridor. Feeling suddenly nervous (understandable, seeing as how the entirety of Hufflepuff House was against his existence at the moment), Harry felt his hands heat up, and tried to take slow, deep breaths and will the fire away. The older boy stopped a decent distance off, and watched him curiously, but cautiously.
"What do you want?" Harry asked warily, once the threat of fire had died down. The boy blinked, and then smiled, blue eyes bright as he lifted a hand to ruffle his blond hair.
"My name's Cedric Diggory," he greeted simply, "Son of Apollo." Harry stared, feeling his eyes widen and all the left-over heat leave his hands as he stared at the Fifth Year in front of him, gaping. The boy, Cedric, arched an eyebrow, smiling in amusement at his gaping, and Harry flushed.
"Er, Harry Potter," he managed awkwardly, reaching up and scratching at his scar (it always itched something fierce whenever his fire tried to start). "Son of Hestia..." Cedric's eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up as he let out a sharp whistle of surprise.
"You don't do anything by halves, do you, Potter?" he asked, disbelievingly; Harry blushed darker and shrugged, looking down at his tattered trainers uncertainly. After a few moments, a hand landed in his hair, ruffling the already mess dark brown locks, and Harry peered up at the older student, who was smiling warmly down at him.
"Hey, don't worry, little cousin," he said, and leaned down, resting his hands on his knees, so that he and the Second Year were eye-to-eye. "If you ever have any questions, or worries, you can come to me, alright? I'll probably be more patient then some of the others who're here at the moment." He smiled, and ruffled Harry's hair again. "You are just too cute," he teased, and Harry squawked and blushed brightly, smacking the older Demigod's hand from his hair as he sputtered and Cedric laughed. The Hufflepuff straightened and shook his head, still grinning brightly, before he began to walk away, waving back at Harry.
"Remember!" He called out cheerfully. "If you have any questions, it's probably best to ask me!" With one last wave, the blond disappeared, and Harry could only gape after him uncertainly.
"...Hufflepuffs are weird," he finally declared to himself, shaking his head before turning and continuing on his way to "his" room.
He had a hearth to tend to.
~(Line Break)~
When Cedric warned him that the other Demigods at Hogwarts wouldn't be patient with his questions, he didn't think the older boy meant this.
"Potter," Marcus Flint snarled as he easily held the Second Year up off the ground with a single hand, making Harry wide-eyed and nervous as he clutched the Sixth Years wrist, the hand it was attached to wrapped in a fist in the front of Harry's robe.
"I don't care who your bloody parent is," the Slytherin informed him, pushing his face into the twelve-year-olds, "but if you don't give your blood all in the damn Quidditch game this weekend, I will fucking murder you, do you understand?" Harry, wide-eyed, gulped and nodded meekly, only to yelp as the sixteen-year-old dropped him with a sneer.
"I am a son of Ares," he growled down at the sprawled boy, standing tall and huge as he loomed above Harry, "and if I even think you're trying to pussy-out of the game, when Wood and I have one bloody year left to prove who's the better Captain, I will end you. Got it?" He hissed; Harry gulped and scrambled back, nodding rapidly. The Slytherin sneered and stalked off, snarling at a few Third Year Ravenclaw girls when they almost bumped him while he was rounding the corner, making them squeal in fright.
Heart pounding, hands shaking, and flames flickering at the ends of his fingers, Harry shakily got to his feet.
"Malfoy should take lessons from him," he muttered, shivering, before he quickly grabbed his bag from the floor and practically ran towards the Transfiguration classroom.
He'd think of the bizarre Ares kid and his demands for a good challenge in Quidditch later. Right now, he just didn't want to get another detention with Snape.
~(Line Break)~
"It's a Basilisk," Harry breathed, staring down at the piece of paper he'd just pulled from Hermione's petrified fist. "That's why I can hear the whispers..." Cold fear curled through his stomach.
He had to tell the teachers.
It was a Basilisk.
Turning, Harry ran from the Infirmary, Invisibility Cloak flapping around him, and down the hall, letting his feet guide him while his mind connected all the dots it could.
It was moving through the pipes.
Killed by direct eye-contact, none of which it had made yet (Well, except from Sir Nick, but he was already dead, he couldn't die again!).
All the spiders fleeing into the Forbidden Forest.
The whispers no one else could hear.
The dead roosters.
Dead Moaning Myrtle and her tale of the large, yellow eyes she'd seen before she had died.
Moaning Myrtles bathroom, with the snake-shaped faucets...
Harry rounded the corner, and found the professors, hidden by his Cloak. He opened his mouth to get their attention, moving to pull his Cloak off of him, when Professor Snape, who was standing directly in front of him, stalked to the side to intimidate Lockhart (who was stupidly bragging about how he knew where the Chamber of Secrets was), and Harry felt his throat close and his body freeze as he saw the message written on the wall in blood.
HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER
Harry couldn't move, he couldn't breathe.
A student had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets.
Not any student, either, he realized dimly as the teachers continued to murmur.
Ginny Weasley.
Ginny, who had been looking steadily more ill and exhausted as the year went on.
Shy little Ginny who couldn't even meet his eyes without squeaking and hiding her face.
She was eleven years old.
Harry didn't even think about it.
He turned around, an ran towards the girls bathroom, heart pounding as he did so, lungs aching as he gasped for breath, year of running from his cousin being the only thing that kept him from getting a stitch in his side, or collapsing like a dying fish.
He burst through the door, yanked off his cloak, and grabbed onto the rim of one of the sinks in the center of the room.
~Open~, he hissed while staring directly at one of the semi-realistic snake-faucets, and took a step back, chest heaving, as the sinks moved with a horrible grinding sound. Soon, the sound and movement stopped, and before him was a large, downward-sloping tunnel. Swallowing heavily, Harry tried to slow his breathing. Not wanting to risk just jumping down into the tunnel, he scrambled for one of his robe pockets, and barely resisted a cry of triumph as he found an empty ink jar.
Yanking it open, he consciously slowed his breathing, and tried to get his palms to stop sweating, while he concentrated on the trick Hestia had taught him, in one of their fire-summoning lessons. Sticking a fingertip into the open part of the jar, Harry opened his eyes halfway, and, unknowing to him, the bright green of his iris was flickering, like emerald flames.
"Φωτιά," he whispered in Greek. Fire.
His fingertip lit up, the flame flickering; Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Φωτιά!" He snapped, ordered; the flame grew in a sharp burst, flooding the ink jar, and heating it sharply, but, as he was, Harry didn't feel the unnatural heat. Quickly, he capped the ink jar, watching as the fire wavered, before growing steady within it's prison. With a deep breath, shoving aside the tired feeling left over from the fire-summoning and the run, Harry arched his arm back, and threw it down the tunnel.
Glass shattered.
A giant ball of fire erupted.
It burned brightly, and then died away, leaving Harry to blink spots from his vision.
The piper was cherry red from the heat, but it felt comfortable to the twelve-year-old when he tentatively touched it.
Hearth Fire would never burn him, after all.
Everything else... Well...
If there had been anything dangerous down the tunnel, it was dead now.
Harry took a steadying breath, and leaped into the still-hot pipe.
~(Line Break)~
The Basilisk was huge. The sixteen-year-old Voldemort was smirking at him, and Ginny was unconscious on the floor. All he had was the stupid Sorting Hat, any Second Year spells he could remember while his gut was turning in terror while he ran around, dodging the now-blinded snake (Thank you, Fawkes, for actually helping when I'm in danger, he managed to, rather hysterically, think as the Phoenix finished clawing the massive serpents eyes out) as it lunged for him.
The snake lunged; Harry threw himself to the side, losing his grip on the Sorting Hat.
Something metal gleamed from within it, and, without a thought, Harry plunged his hand in while scrambling to his feet, glancing over his shoulder at the sixty-foot-long (or more!) Basilisk.
His hand wrapped around the hilt of whatever was in the Hat, just as the Basilisk lunged again.
Harry yanked the (hopefully) weapon out of the Hat, and stabbed out at the wide-open mouth of the massive snake, just as his Flames erupted, flooding the long, bronze blade and slicing cleanly through several fangs, before burying itself deep into the roof of the snakes mouth and into its brain, the edges of the cut-off teeth barely touching Harry's robe-sleeve. The snake managed to rear back, yanking the blade from its mouth as Harry's grip remained tight, sending the small Second Year flying against a wall as it gave a final, horrendous scream, and thrashed as it collapsed to the ground in a series of death throes that just barely avoided the still-unconscious Ginny.
Harry, woozy, with blood dripping into his eyes from where he'd hit his head thanks to the Basilisk bloody throwing him, staggered towards the more-solid-appearing Riddle and the unconscious Ginny, pausing to stare down at the black diary that lay so innocently on the floor.
"You killed my Basilisk," Riddle hissed, baring his teeth in rage; Harry slowly looked up, green flames dancing in his eyes as blood covered his face, painting a truly macabre picture as he stared at the wraith.
"And now," he said, voice slightly slurred, "I kill you." Harry dropped to his knee, and grabbed one of the nearby fang-fragments. Without a single hesitation, he reared back, and slammed the poison-drenched fang into the book; Riddle screamed as a glowing hole tore through his face, lunging towards Harry with shaking steps, reaching out to stop him. Harry stabbed the book again, and again, and again, until Riddle stopped screaming and instead, exploded into bright fragments of light, shattering like broken glass.
Exhausted from the fight, woozy from his injuries and blood-loss, Harry slumped further down on the floor, ending up leaning back on his hands with his legs spread out in front of him, eyes closing. A sharp gasp nearby told him the Ginny was awake.
"Oh, Harry!" The girl whimpered, crawling over to his side as he tiredly opened his eyes to look at her. "I swear, I didn't mean to!" Harry sighed, and nodded at her weakly.
"I know, Gin," he told her softly, and blinked as her whole body seemed to slump with relief as she smiled at him, bright and warm. A musical trill caught their attention, and Harry turned his eyes away from the strangely-relaxed eleven-year-old, and on to Fawkes, who had retrieved the Sorting Hat as he flew to land next to the boy, flame-colored plumage sleek and bright as he peered at the injured Demigod with his deep, black eyes.
Harry reached out tentatively to stroke the Phoenix's chest-feathers, earning himself a low, pleased croon, and he barely bit back a gasp.
The bird was made of Sacred Fire!
"Fawkes," he breathed, and the bird crooned at him again, leaning forward anbd gently preening some of Harry's blood-soaked hair away from his face. Harry closed his eyes, filled with the same warmth his mother's hugs gave him, and sighed softly. "Will you take Ginny out of here?" he murmured tiredly, laying down fully as the room tilted dangerously, ignoring Ginny's gasp and demands for him to stay awake.
"I think I'll rest down here, until help arrives," Harry slurred, and watched as the Phoenix clacked his beak at him, before fluttering up onto Ginny's shoulder and, in a wild, beautiful burst of Fire, disappeared with the girl.
The instant he was alone, gentle fingers stroked his bloodied face, and Harry opened his eyes (when had they closed?) to smile groggily up at his concerned, but smiling, mother.
"Mum," he whispered, and Hestia leaned down to kiss his forehead.
"I am so proud of you, my Harry," she whispered, and Harry felt light inside, and a joy he'd never known before made his heart soar.
He'd made his Mum proud!
"I'll get blood on you," he warned weakly, as Hestia gently lifted his head to her lap.
"It'll come out," she told him absently, feeling gently along the edges of his head-injuries, her flame-filled eyes taking in all his injuries with the intensity of a forest fire, burning fiercely.
"You should not have had to come down here, Harry," she whispered fiercely, kind face dark with disapproval. "The supposed Headmaster of this school knew where the Chamber was, and what lay within it! His Phoenix could Flamed him here at any time and, with a single spell, could have conjured a rooster to crow and kill the beast," the room began to heat rapidly as Hestia's tiny hands clenched into fists, hunching over her son to rest her forehead against his blood-tacky brow.
"He could have ended it all," she hissed bitterly, "but he would rather test you, my Firstborn..." Harry blinked uncertainly at that, and bit his lip, unhappy with the knowledge (actually, not unhappy. Instead, he was hurt, confused, betrayed, and angry, rather than just unhappy) that his Headmaster, a man he had respected since he had arrived in the Wizarding World, had used Ginny Weasley's life as a bloody test.
Worst of all, however, was the knowledge that the man, and his test, had worried Hestia, had upset her, made her angry, and that was something Harry never wanted. His mother was kind, gentle, empathetic, compassionate, and wonderful.
She should never be unhappy, or angry.
Never.
"I got you a present," he blurted; Hestia blinked, her angry abruptly pushed away so she could blink down at her Firstborn son in befuddlement. Smiling shyly, Harry pointed, and Hestia followed his gesture, to stare at the dead Basilisk with a blink. "Happy belated Mother's Day," he told her; Hestia looked down at him, wide-eyed, before, slowly, a bright, loving smile lit her face, fire-filled eyes glowing brightly, and all the torches (those lit and not) in the room flared to life with high, abnormally bright lights.
"I think this is the best gift I've ever been given," she whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead, "and all because it's from you," she finished in a whisper, gently setting his head down, before she disappeared in a bright flash of fire, just as Fawkes re-appeared, Snape and Madame Pomfrey in tow.
"Mr. Potter!" the older Healer cried, dismayed, and all Harry could do was offer her a bright smile. The stern matron dropped her hands to her hips and frowned heavily down at him. "I swear, if you keep this up, Mr. Potter, I will have a bed named and placed just for you, do you understand?" Harry's grin widened.
"If you say so, Madame Pomfrey," he replied cheekily, and was still grinning when the matronly Witch rolled her eyes, and cast a Sleeping Spell on him.
As he sank into darkness, the last thing he heard, was Snape muttering.
"Where the bloody hell is the snake?"
~(Line Break)~
"You, Potter, get into way too much trouble," Cedric declared cheerfully as he helped Harry carry his things to his room.
"I know," Harry replied simply, carefully moving his crutches over the stone floor (he had fractured his hip, when the Basilisk had tossed him into the wall, and Madame Pomfrey refused to let him walk around without the crutches, in case the healed bone was weak.).
"And how did you find a private room?" The son of Apollo demanded, bewildered as the Second Year stroked a finger down the curling vine on the bottom right corner of the Fairy Glade frame, making it swing inwards.
"That would be my doing, young Demigod," an easy voice greeted as the two boys stepped fully into the room, and Harry felt a bright grin curl his bruised cheeks. Hestia was kneeling comfortably on his favorite blue rug, calmly tending the fire, and giving the room (which was only about the size of the Dursleys living room) a warm, welcoming glow.
"L-Lady Hestia!" Cedric stuttered, gaping as he stared at the Goddess, who was wearing the form of an eight-year-old this day.
"Hello, Mum," Harry greeted cheerfully, hobbling over and giving the smiling Goddess a kiss on the cheek when she stood to greet him.
"Hello, my son," she replied, kissing him on the forehead, before casting the still-gaping Hufflepuff a kind smile, making him flushed and hurry into a deep bow.
"Cedric Diggory, ma'am," he managed quickly. "Son of-"
"Apollo, yes," she said, smile widening as he looked up at her, still bowing, eyes wide. "You have your fathers smile, young Cedric." The fifteen-year-old blushed brightly, and sputtered out a garbled "thank you, Lady Hestia" before Harry's helpless giggling distracted the blond, who found himself giggling and the mischievous grin Hestia had while Harry leaned against her shoulder for support while he giggled.
"Oh, I see how it is!" The Hufflepuff declared dramatically, a smile curling his lips as he finally broke away from his embarrassment. "Picking on the Hufflepuff, huh?" Just you wait, Harry," he teased, and wiggled his fingers in claw-like motions, making the younger Demigod laugh even harder. "I'll get you next year in Quidditch, just you wait!" Before chuckling as Hestia had to help Harry down onto the rug, because he was laughing too hard for the crutches to be safe.
Once Harry's laughter had, finally, died off (he blamed the giggling on the potions Madame Pomfrey had made him drink before he'd left her care. He did not giggle!), Hestia pointed to his closed trunk, and Hedwig's empty cage.
"All of that will be traveling with you when I take you to Camp Half-Blood, Harry," the Goddess informed him easily, as Cedric moved carefully around the room to admire the artistic brick-work (some of the bricks had been spelled different colors, making several mural of flames on the walls around the bed, all in different colors). "The sword you pulled from that hat is in your trunk, just look for the red pen. It's been spelled so that ordinary mortals won't notice it, and to return to your pocket any time you drop or lose it." Cedric turned and blinked at Harry, startled.
"You're going to one of the Camps for the summer?" he asked; confused, Harry looked up at the older male from where he was stoking the fire absently.
"Aren't you?" He asked in return; Cedric looked suddenly sheepish, and dragged his fingers through his hair.
"Ah, I forgot you don't live with a Wizarding Family," he replied sheepishly, before padding over and claiming the only chair in the room, leaning his forearms on his knees as Harry turned to face him, flames dancing faintly in his eyes, while Hestia took over the fire with a fond shake of her head. "Demigods who live with Wizarding Families don't have to worry about getting protection from Monsters like Muggle, Muggleborn, and Muggle-Raised half-gods do," he told the younger boy honestly. "Adult Wizards tend to give off a sort of scent, you see, which tends to warn off all but the more humanoid of Monsters, such as Vampires and Werewolves, and the purely Magical Creatures, which you see in everyday Wizarding life, for the most part. Monsters who hunt half-blood will be extremely reluctant to go anywhere near a Wizarding Home, especially when they're heavily protected. However, if you don't live with a Wizarding Family, then it's much safer to spend the summer in one of the Camp's across the pond." Harry nodded slowly, looking thoughtful, before yelping in surprise when Hestia tugged on a lock of his hair, getting his attention.
"We'll be leaving from the train station straight to America," she informed him simply, easily. "So, once you've left the train, I'll be there to flame you over. Until then," she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Do try and stay out of trouble, my dear. One would think you were a child of Hermes, with all the mischief you get into." With a teasing smile, the Goddess waved at Cedric, and disappeared in a flash of flames, the hearth fire growing larger and brighter in response, curling heat over Harry's back and around his shoulders like a hug.
"... I like your Mum, Harry," Cedric told him, and Harry didn't bother to hide his bright, proud grin.
"Me too, Cedric," he declared happily. "Me too."
~(Line Break)~
The train pulled into King's Cross Station with little drama. Ron and Hermione had tried to get a seat with Harry, but had been effectively chased off by Cedric and his group of friends, who had invited Harry into a game of Exploding Snap (which had quickly turned into a sort of playful brawl that led to Cedric laughingly guarding Harry so the still-bruised boy didn't get involved or further injured). Malfoy had stopped by to sneer at them, but, with the group of five Fifth Year boys, and two Sixth Year girls, he had stalked off with his nose in the air (and promptly ran into Flint on a warpath, who had proceeded to tear into the blond about practicing Quidditch over the summer so that they could pummel Wood into the ground in his final year... Harry couldn't help but wonder aloud why Flint was so obsessed with beating Oliver at the game, which had led to snickering and leering from a few of the Hufflepuffs, which only confused Harry more).
All together, despite having to leave Hogwarts, Harry was happy and relaxed when he stepped off the train. There, a beautiful young woman, who looked about twenty-five, with long, messy brown hair and wearing a tan blouse and black jeans, sunglasses covering her eyes, had wrapped him in a hug without so much as a by-your-leave, enveloping him the scent of fire and smoke and making him beam.
"Mum," he breathed, hugging her back tightly; she kissed his temple.
"Shall we go, my Harry?" she asked with a sweet smile, pulling back and shrinking his trunk with a twitch of a "wand" (which, upon closer inspection, had Harry snickering because it was actually a dark-colored chopstick), and putting it in his pocket,
"Let's go," he agreed happily, and the Goddess led him over to a group of fireplaces, and threw in a bit of Floo-powder before pulling Harry in with her and murmuring something no one besides the two of them could catch.
In a whirl of bright green flames, they disappeared, not even realizing that one Albus Dumbledore was, at that exact moment, sending a letter filled with compulsion charms to the Dursley Residence, and feeling rather pleased with himself in the supposed knowledge that his little weapon would be properly cowed by the time he returned to Hogwarts the next year.
Now, if only he could figure out why Fawkes had taken to incinerating all his lemon drops...
A/N: Wow, there is a LOT of feedback on just the first chapter!
Well, I hope you enjoyed this one!
What did you guys think about my Hogwarts Demigods? I wanted to go a different route, you know?
Any questions/suggestions/criticisms?
(Also, I hope that this chapter helped answer your one criticism, EmeraldFlames4. When the Gods want something, they get it)
Don't forget to Review!
