A/N: Yay, a lot of people are happy with the last chapter, go me!

Now, I have a message for those people who are complaining because they took that little mini-rant I did a few chapters back as a confirmation that this fic is going to be slash, and some of them (NOT ALL, only some) have been kinda bitchy about it, so, here:

THERE IS NO WARNING IN THE SUMMARY BECAUSE I HAVEN'T DECIDED IF THIS FIC WILL BE SLASH OR HET, OR CONTINUE AS GEN!

I am sorry for those who feel like they can't read this fic just because I wrote that mini-rant and they freaked out, but, seriously guys, my usual readers all know this, but I LITERALLY wing-it with EVERY fic I write. I have no clue whose going to do what, do WHO, or anything, which is why I tend to put it to a vote in the chapters!

Ugh, seriously, you guys, calm your tits. IF this becomes Slash, I'll add the warning AND put it in an authors note, I'll even put bold in the fic so you can skip over scenes in case you DO want to continue reading because you like my fic, just not the pairing.

Seriously, with all the fuss, I MAY just take that one Reviewers suggestion/request that Harry just remain chaste and not date ANYONE because he loves them all and doesn't want to hurt feelings.

Seriously, guys, it's NOT a big deal, calm down!

Jeez.

Now, onto better things!

The author Salllzy wrote me another fic! Actually, TWO of them! One's called "Kronos Soft Spot" and it is precious, while the other one is called "The Petition", which is kind of a what-if version of Harry petitioning to Zeus for the Hades Cabin, so, anyways, I recommend you read them.

Danke!

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For Want of Family

Chapter Seven

Gringotts Bank, Diagon Ally Division

It was an average day in the Wizarding Bank. The Tellers dealt with the Wizards, the Weighers checked gems and coins for frauds and imperfections, and the Cart-Drivers scowled and took the customers to their Vaults while trying to terrify them into compliance, or at least silence, with the cart ride.

A non-Gringotts owl flew in through the special opening in the rafters, caught the attention of all Goblins there, who began to watch it eagerly, while still going about their daily business. Within Gringotts, a non-approved owl meant one of two things.

1.) Someone needed money, or was sending paperwork to get money transferred, and thus was sending a letter to their Account Manager or

2.) Some Goblin was about to become an Account Manager.

You see, the Goblin Bank is run on very archaic and strange (to Wizards) traditions. The Cart-Drivers are the lowest in the Bank hierarchies, followed by the Tellers, then the Weighers and, finally, the Account Managers. The Director of the Bank, and the Guards who protected the Bank (and fed the Dragons) were exempt of this hierarchy, as their existence withing Gringotts was ordered by the King of the Goblin Nation and his Advisers. Now, Goblins could only rise through the ranks in a few ways.

They could challenge a higher-ranking Goblin to a fight, and the winner gets said position. They could be the child of higher-placed Goblin and gain the position when said Goblin died of natural causes or retired due to injury or old age. Or, a Wizard can specify that they want a specific Goblin, which the only requirement for is knowing said Goblins name, providing a sample of their blood and magic, and giving that Goblin a piece of sensitive information.

The Snowy Owl flew with a purpose as sharp, eager eyes followed her. With a flourish, she landed gracefully on the shoulder of one rather short (even for Goblins) Cart-Driver, and imperiously offered him her letter. The Goblin, wary of a trick, cautiously took the letter, and watched as the Snowy Owl barked at him, before flying into the rafters to rest and wait for what must be a reply. Turning the letter in his hands, the Goblins eyebrows lifted, as he found his name on the envelope. Curious, but not really expecting too much (several of the banks clients remembered his name, usually because they wished to curse it after he had taken them along the Tracks), Griphook, Son of Fistknife, Senior Cart-Driver, opened the letter, and began to read.

When he reached the end, he was grinning ferally, sharp fangs barred with glee. With a snap of his long, gnarled fingers, much like the way of House Elves, the letter disappeared to the Directors Office, and, in a shimmer of gray light, Griphook, Son of Fistknife, Former Senior Cart-Driver, became the Account Manager of not only one of the Banks most prestigious Vaults, but also the Manager of all Vaults connected to it through the Potter Heir.

In a single letter, he had just become the most influential Goblin within the Diagon Alley Division.

As a result, his uniform was changed. Now he stood dressed in a black suit, with a dark gray tie. Hooked onto his breast pocket was a simple clip that held the Potter Family Insignia (A rearing griffon), encircled with a circle of flame.

As he sauntered out of the room, Griphook's grin turned nastier at the scowling, unhappy gazes of his fellow Bankers.

He had a previous Account Manager to question, because even he, in his former post, had noticed some rather disturbing issues with the way the Potter Accounts had been handled in the last eleven years.

If some Goblin had been cheating his new customer, heads would roll.

~(Line Break)~

It had been a week since Harry had sent his letter to Gringotts. During this time, he had managed to get his hands on some special paper from the Athena Cabin, which made it easier for him to sketch out his plans for both the Hades Cabin and the Hermes Cabins... Of course, they were just the barest bones, because Harry couldn't draw very well, and depending on his reply from the Goblins, certain things would be changed, but it was a beginning.

He had completed his first Strawberry Saturday (which had been interesting, as he'd never actually handled the plants before, but a very nice Daughter of Demeter had helped him out until he felt confident enough to work on his own), and was now standing in the disorganized chaos that was Mr. D's office, trying to decide where to start first.

"Deal with the bookshelves," the God's voice announced as he walked past Harry with an aggravated scowl. "Daddy Dearest has demanded that I send in the paperwork for the last six years, so I actually have to do it, or he'd promised to extend my punishment." He scowled as he dropped into his desk chair, opening a drawer that was much bigger on the inside than the out, and pulling out a huge stack of paperwork with a scowl. Harry decided to leave the irritated God to his work, and obediently went to the bookshelves.

The next two hours past in relative silence between the two, with Harry cleaning and organizing the books and knickknacks and Dionysus grumbling about his work and drinking Diet Coke like it was about to be disbanded.

Harry had just finished carefully placing the last little statue (a glass bottle with a garden in it, like those bottle-ships his Aunt had admired in magazines), when Dionysus cursed.

"I blame you for this, you know," he informed the Demigod tartly, leaning back with a scowl at the barely-dented stack of papers. "My Father never cared about this sort of thing before you pitched a fit about the Hades Cabin. Now he's punishing me because he can't smite you, or Aunty Hestia will be angry with him." Harry hesitated, torn between feeling guilty that he was causing the Director more work, indignation over being blamed, and disbelief that the God was complaining about doing work he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

"...Would it be easier if I organized the paperwork for you?" He finally decided on, extending an olive branch and firmly reminding himself that this was a God and that Gods tended to be snippy and easily-insulted. Mr. D huffed and shoved back from the desk, standing with a wave at the tall pile.

"Have at it," he replied moodily. "I'm going to go, I don't know, walk or something. I'll be back in an hour. Maybe." Dionysus stalked out of the room, and Harry rolled his eyes and got to work, deciding to start splitting the pile up by dates first thing, and setting papers without dates in their own pile.

He worked diligently on his project, ignoring when an hour passed and Mr. D had yet to return. He just figured it was a sort of snub, because the God was irritated, and continued to work. When lunch came about, Argus the Many-Eyed Head of Security was kind enough to bring him two sandwiches, a small salad, and bottle of water. Not very hungry, but grateful for the break, Harry split one of the sandwiches into three mostly-even, and set them on fire himself. One went to his mother, telling her he loved her and missed their fire-side chats. One went to Hades informing him of the slow progress he had made and apologizing for the wait on his Cabin. And the last piece went to Zeus, telling him that he would be receiving the paperwork he wanted from Dionysus as soon as he finished organizing it, and the Wine God finished filing it properly.

With that done, he continued to work while absently eating, until his neck and back ached, and his eyes did as well, and he wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and sleep for a day.

"Go to dinner, Harley Powder," Mr. D ordered bluntly as he stalked in, eyeing the neat, small groups of paper that littered his desk in chronological order from oldest to most recent. "I thought you'd have left hours ago." Harry stood with a stretch and a groan, grimacing as his muscles and spine protested.

"I'm not quite finished, but I guess it'll do for now," he told the God as the Half-Blood tried to pop his neck, wincing at the almost-pain/relief as the rapid cracks sounded. "I can finish tomorrow or the next day, if you want?" Mr. D stared at him incredulously, and then stepped forward to take his shoulder in hand, steering him out the door.

"Go eat, Harper," he ordered sternly, frowning. "You can come by tomorrow to finish cleaning the office, but only after you do whatever lessons you've been assigned. Not before, understand?" Harry rolled his eyes, and ducked into the light, absent cuff the action earned him, smiling fondly up at the God.

"Yes, sir," he agreed amicably enough, and obediently headed out of the Big House and off towards the Dining Pavilion. Dionysus stepped in front of the office window, frowning slightly as he watched the strange little Firstborn trot off, joined by the Apollo Cabin Counselor.

"Your child is so strange sometimes, Aunty," he murmured, and shook his head, turning towards his desk and eyeing the neat stacks of paper with a hum. As he got to work, filing out papers much, much faster than he did before, a slow, sly half-smile curled his lips.

He did believe he had just, inadvertently, gotten himself a secretary.

~(Line Break)~

Hermes freaking loved the kid. He was going to give him the best damn gift he could find, maybe a car or something, or something else that was useful, because damn if that brat wasn't Hestia but with a temper. The Messenger God had hunted down a picture of the mortal woman Hestia had fallen for, and damn she was gorgeous, and her husband was too (and didn't that just make Hestia's little love-affair even more scandalous, that she'd been involved in a threesome for her first time? Lucky girl!).

If their kid didn't grow up to be a heart-throb, Hermes would eat his own shoes.

Anyways, gorgeous parents and future-looks aside, Hermes loved the kid. He had a good head on his shoulders, and his heart was in the right place. If he managed to actually make Hermes's kids happier, the God would sacrifice something to him...

Or buy him a lifetime supply of chocolate or something, kids liked that, right? Hestia loved chocolate, so, maybe her kid would appreciate it... Or give it to his Mom, which seems more likely.

Damn, he was just so cute, like a puppy, all eager and shy and sweetness rolled into a tiny, big-eyed, fluffy-haired package.

Aphrodite was placing bets with the minor Gods one whether the kid would catch the eye of certain Demigods, and he was so going to get in on that. Hades, if he was lucky, maybe he could get the kid to pull his own kid back from the brink he was dancing on. Hermes loved Luke, no matter what he thought, but Laws were Laws and, if he broke them or even bent them too far, Zeus would as soon say "Fuck it" and kill Luke just for spite.

He'd done it before, for lesser offences.

But, if this little Fire Starter could get his little adorable love-claws into Luke...

Maybe his son could be saved.

Even Gods could hope, after all.

~(Line Break)~

Persephone was pleased. Her Husband was getting a Cabin (though if he cheated on her again without her permission, she was going to banish him to Cerberus's cave for a decade, and then make him do all the paperwork that built up as a result, before he got any from anyone again), she as getting almost daily sacrifices of lemon drops (while she wasn't a fan of the mortal candy, burnt lemon smelled lovely, so she could forgive the source), and she was back in Olympus with her mother and her gardens.

Finding out her Aunt Hestia had a child was a shock but, from what she'd seen about the little boy, and his earnest belief that her Husband deserved a Cabin, that he had just as much a right as the other Big Three to have one, well. He was her son, and Aunt Hestia had always been quietly disappointed whenever the Gods argued with one another. She was the Goddess of family, and, while she accepted that family often fights and argues, she wasn't very happy about it.

Still, Persephone was pleased with the little lad. He was cute, and made her Husband happy, and Hades, in turn, sought to make her happy, so, in the end, Persephone wins.

And she does so love to win.

~(Line Break)~

"Poor sweetling," Aster cooed as she placed an extra helping of peach cobbler on Harry's plate while the boy tried to work the kinks that were still plaguing his back. "You worked so hard today, you deserve something special." Harry smiled up at the flower-nymph, rubbing at one of his eyes tiredly.

"Thank you, Miss Aster," he told her bashfully; the nymph giggled and kissed his temple, before skipping off to pass out more cobbler with her sisters.

"You are ridiculous," Charlie grumbled next to him, and Harry just smiled at him.

"Would you like some of my cobbler?" he asked the older boy, still smiling. "I'm not sure if I can eat it all..." The older boy shook his head in disbelief, and Harry shrugged. "Okay, I'll just give some to my Mum." With that, he turned back to enjoy his dessert, smiling as the Demigods around him chatted easily. As he ate, however, he felt a slow, ominous feeling growing in his chest, to the point where he just stopped eating, staring down at his plate with a small frown, trying to figure out what was wrong...

Because something was wrong.

Getting up abruptly, Harry started walking away, ignoring Luke and Charlie, when they called after him in confusion. Harry kept walking, speeding up slowly, until he was running, heart pounding as he ran towards entrance of Camp, scrabbling into his pocket for the map his Mum had given him to guide him safely, which was starting to glow like hot embers, just as he crested the hill.

Two pairs of footprints were moving towards the camp, small wings on the shoes. Behind them ran a large red triangle, and a smaller triangle.

Without a thought, Harry shoved his map into his pocket, and lunged down the hill toward the two running footprints, calling on his Fire and feeling it light his skin from within.

He rand down the long road and, after just a few moments, he spotted them, two tall boys with brown hair and, behind them, snarling in rage, was a massive, golden lion and beyond that was what appeared to be a harpy, who looked more interested in watching the lion catch the two boys than attacking herself.

"Go!" Harry shouted at the boys, and his hands ignited into flames, green eyes blazing. The two boys, who seemed to be twins, parted enough to run past him on either side, though they (stupidly, in Harry's opinion) skidded to a stop barely five feet behind him. One, or both, of them shouted something to Harry, but he couldn't hear them as his body exploded into a roaring flame just as the lion lunged at him with a roar.

Harry, small as he was, missed getting killed in that first attack by barely six inches, and, instead, found himself slamming into the lions' chest with an 'oomph!' sound, and clung as tight as he could, closing his eyes as the lion roared in pain and tried to get him off. The Flames roared higher and hotter, beginning to edge into blue at the center where Harry clung, trying not to gag as the smell of burning fur and flesh filled the air. The lion tried to roar again, but couldn't choking and making a horrible, retching sound as it stumbled.

Only a few moments later, it was done, and the lion turned to golden dust, leaving behind a badly burnt pelt in Harry's arms. With a shudder, the Demigod burnt it the rest of the way, giving it to the Lady Artemis as she was, after all, the Huntress, with an apology for it's charred state. That done, Harry took slow, steady breaths and sat on the burn road, slowly pulling his flames in, until he sat there, steam rising off of him and skin gleaming with the flickering of fire beneath his skin.

Swallowing heavily, nauseous and close to horrified tears at the thought that he had just burned an animal to death, the twelve-year-old managed to climb shakily to his feet and turn, shivering, towards the twin boys he had saved. The Harpy was nowhere in sight, either dead or having fled, and the boys were staring at him with wide eyes.

They stood there, for several seconds, until Harry shook his head and offered a weak, trembling smile, and the twins looked at one another, before looking back to him.

"Awesome," they both breathed, and Harry felt himself flush even as he winced.

And thus, Harry met the Stoll Twins, Sons of Hermes, and wondered if he'd always have to deal with prankster twins, wherever he went as he returned to the camp with them in tow, to enjoy snacks around the Camp Fire.

The Stoll's just called him their Firefly, and told him to eat more marshmallows and shut up.

It was a good beginning, to a good friendship.

A/N: Ta-Da! Harry's People Saving Thing came in, and so did the Stolls! I couldn't find out when they came into the Camp, or how old they were, so I'm winging it, okay?

Also, they learned that you don't pull the Nemean Lion's tail. It doesn't like it.

Enjoy!

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