AN: Hi, guys! I'm finally back, late as usual, though it's not entirely my fault. This chapter was ready a few days ago – almost a week – but my internet connection was down, so I had to wait. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think!
Thank you to all my followers and to those who have reviewed!
Disclaimer: Though I wouldn't mind owning these guys (especially Percy), I'm forced to concede that absolutely nothing is mine.
/
Chapter ten: In which things go bump in the night
A few days after the Hippogriff incident, as he had taken to calling it, Percy had his first ever Potions class.
He was proud to say it was an unencumbered disaster.
They got there just after lunch, with a few minutes to spare. Harry and his friends had insisted they leave early, saying that Professor Snape was famous for taking away points from Gryffindor over the silliest things. Percy had accepted rather gloomily, throwing one last mournful look at the slice of treacle tart on his plate (Harry had introduced him to the dessert his second day at Hogwarts and while it wasn't as tasty as his mother's blue cookies, it was still pretty good). He wasn't sure he'd survive until dinnertime with so much blood in his sugar stream.
Potions was held in one of the dungeons, which didn't endear him any to either the subject or its teacher. It was a damp, cold place and the low ceiling of the classroom gave him a sense of claustrophobia. He had barely stepped into the room and he already missed the fresh air and open sky of the school grounds.
He glanced around, trying to get a feel of what would be his prison for the next hour, and he almost jumped out of his own skin. Hundreds of small eyes, blank and gelatinous, stared back at him out of a glass jar.
"Ingredients for potions," murmured Ron, looking over his shoulder, "Creepy, eh?"
Percy nodded, taking in the rest of the room. He was dismayed to find that the eyes weren't the spookier thing in there by far. From every corner of the room, the sad remains of pickled animals gazed at them accusingly.
He choked back the disgusting taste of vomit. Call him squeamish, but he wasn't too keen on touching any of those things.
"Let's find seats before all the good ones are taken, okay?" said Harry.
A few more students – Gryffindors and Slytherins alike – had trickled into the classroom while Percy was busy studying the cheerful décor. He noticed that while the Slytherins were sitting in the first few rows, the Gryffindors had all chosen seats to the back, as far away from the teacher's desk as possible.
Surprise shot through him when he saw Hermione do the same. He hadn't pegged her as someone who could pass up the opportunity to show off in class (and he meant that in the nicest way possible).
Percy sat down next to her while Ron and Harry took the desks right in front of them.
"Hey, mate," came Seamus's voice from behind him, "first Potions class, right?"
He turned to face him. "Yeah. Harry says Snape is a hard-ass."
Hermione made a disapproving noise.
"He would think that," Seamus said with a snigger, "Snape detests him."
"But he's right," interjected Dean, looking up from his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, "Snape doesn't really like anybody and he especially can't stand Gryffindors."
"How exactly am I supposed not to end up in detention?" Percy asked. He had promised his mom she wouldn't receive letters from the school until at least the end of the month and he planned on keeping his word.
After that…well, she was used to it.
Seamus shrugged. "I'd like to know that, too. Just think of him as a wild and dangerous animal. Like a dragon or something. Don't look at him in the eyes and don't make sudden movements."
Snape arrived a few minutes later in a swirl of black robes, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud bang.
Neville, who had been rather jittery ever since lunch, sent the brass scale he was positioning on his desk crashing to the floor.
"Lesson has not even started yet, Longbottom," Snape said, "can you abstain from causing damage until that moment?"
Neville went beet red. The Slytherin half of the classroom snickered and made faces at him, something which Snape evidently didn't feel the need to put an end to.
Percy caught Hermione's eye and she shook her head infinitesimally.
"Today," Snape began, his barely there voice forcing them to lean forward on their desks, "you will be making a Shrinking Solution, if you can manage it. For those of you who have taken time out of your no doubt busy summer schedule to complete the essay I assigned you, it will prove to be a fairly simple concoction. The rest will probably fail. Of course," he added, a malicious light shining in the depths of his dark eyes, "some of you are rather used to it."
He made a show of glancing at their half of the classroom. It was enough to set Percy's teeth on edge.
"Ah, our new student," Snape said snidely, eyeing him, "finally decided your education was important enough to join us?"
The Slytherin girl he often saw hanging from Malfoy's arm laughed giddily and Percy felt like throwing something at her. His mouth was unnaturally dry.
"I hope you'll show more aptitude for my subject than your cousin, Mr Jackson," Snape went on, "This class doesn't need any more lazy dunderheads. Longbottom is quite enough on his own."
Forget Mr Nicoll. Forget even Mrs Dodds the Fury. Snape had just won first place in his personal – and extremely long – list of most hated teachers.
Judging from his stiff back, Harry seemed to share his feelings.
Snape moved to the front of the classroom. "You'll find the ingredients you'll need in the cupboard, as always. Instructions –" he tapped his wand on the blackboard and thin, spidery-like writing appeared "– are on the blackboard. Commence."
Hermione leapt to her feet with a vague promise to get his ingredients, too. A few other of their classmates followed her at a far more sedated pace.
Percy stared in baffled horror at the blackboard: it was like trying to read Sanskrit while swinging upside down from the ceiling. Knowing that the situation was hopeless, he took out his book. He had luckily remembered to turn the language from English to Ancient Greek the night before, so at least he wouldn't have to deal with his dyslexia on top of his ADHD messing with his concentration.
"Oh, no, don't do that," said Hermione, dumping her armful of roots and small, dead animals on their table. A sickeningly yellow eye rolled over the top and onto his lap. "Snape gives us different instructions. We never use the book."
Percy gingerly picked up the disgusting blob and set it back on the table. His day definitely wasn't showing any sign of improvement. "Why did I buy it then?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We do use it to study. Don't worry, I'll help you."
He shut his book and put it back in the bag, feeling his chances of earning a decent grade decreasing by the second.
"As a first thing, we need to slice five caterpillars and let them heat until the potion turns red," Hermione said in a whisper, starting the fire under both their cauldrons.
Percy stared at it enviously. Had he tried that, he'd have either burned to whole classroom to a crisp or made a fool of himself.
He grabbed his five caterpillars and cut them into equally thin slices the way Hermione was doing. At least he was good with a knife.
He squinted at the blackboard, trying to read the next step. All he saw was: kahes het edeelp evlshgrifi. He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head.
"You need to get your sight checked," said Hermione.
Percy looked at her. "Uh?" She was skinning what looked like an overgrown purple fig. Purple drops trickled down her arm and stained the sleeve of her shirt.
"The way you were squinting at the blackboard," she explained, "You can't see it properly, can you?"
"Oh, no, that's not…I'm dyslexic."
Hermione looked up. "Really? Do you need me to read the instructions to you?"
Percy blushed, but still felt a frisson of relief. "That would be great."
She glanced at Snape out of the corner of her eye. He was checking a Slytherin boy's potion, his back to them. "Just make sure Snape doesn't see us or he'll take away points."
Even with her help, it was far from easy, but Percy thought he wasn't doing so bad all things considered. His potion was the light red colour described in the instructions and having Hermione dictate it to him step by step meant his mind couldn't wander too much.
More importantly, he hadn't blown himself up and Snape had yet to say anything particularly demeaning about him or his work.
Harry and Neville weren't so lucky. His cousin certainly hadn't been lying when he had said Snape hated him. It seemed the professor was doing everything he could to make sure Harry failed, from constantly breathing down his neck to straight-out taunting him.
What Neville had to put up with was almost worse. Snape obviously knew the effect he had on the boy, and he was more than willing to use it against him. Percy found himself unnerved by the cruel set of Snape's mouth and by the satisfied glint that shone in his eyes every time he looked at Neville, and after the summer he had had, not much unnerved him anymore.
About halfway through the lesson, Malfoy showed up.
His arm was in a sling and he wore a pained expression that didn't fool Percy for even one second, but that seemed to work on most of his housemates.
Snape was obviously suicidal, because he put Malfoy to work with Ron and Harry, and even ordered them to prepare Malfoy's ingredients in his place. Percy would be surprised if one of them – probably Ron – didn't finish what Buckbeak had started.
Things spiralled out of control when Snape stopped by Neville's worktable.
"Well, well. What do we have here, Longbottom?" Snape took out a spoonful of Neville's potion and then dumped it back into the cauldron, allowing everyone to get a good look at it. It was a garish shade of orange. "It seems you yet again managed to confuse simple instructions, Longbottom." He straightened up, looking cruelly amused. "How about I give you the right incentive?"
Percy felt a pang of discomfort in his chest.
"Pay attention, everyone."
They all looked up, even Harry, Ron and Malfoy, who had been engrossed in a hushed conversation.
"At the end of the lesson, I'll feed a few drops of Longbottom's potion to his toad. If the potion is correctly brewed, it will turn into a tadpole; if not, it will probably die. I have no doubt which one of the two options is more likely."
He threw one last scornful look at the potion and at Neville, who was visibly fighting back tears.
Percy's stomach fell to his feet. He stared at Snape as he strode away, resuming his stroll through the classroom. His pleased smirk reminded Percy of every teacher that had made fun of his learning disabilities and of every bully that had gloated after getting him in trouble.
"Professor," Hermione said timidly, "perhaps I could help Neville with the potion. I could explain –"
Snape didn't even bother turning around. "No one asked you to show off, Miss Granger. Mind your own work."
Looking back at it, Percy wasn't sure whether it was Snape's caustic words or Hermione's wounded expression that did it, but he snapped.
His hand flexed so hard around the knife, he thought the skin on his knuckles would split open. Anger inflamed him, tugging at his gut. There was a high-pitched whistling in his ears as he glared hatefully at Snape.
The greenish, smelly potion a blonde boy was stirring just a few seats over sloshed out of the cauldron as if traversed by a wave.
It happened just as Snape bent down to examine it, his mouth contorted in a grimace. With a deafening whooshing sound, the liquid jumped about a metre in the air, drenching him from head to foot.
Complete silence enveloped the classroom, broken only by Percy's knife clattering to the ground. Hermione brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and horrified.
"Which one of you absolute idiots," Snape hissed, his voice dangerously low, "thought playing around with a potentially lethal potion would be funny?"
Most of the class stared horror-struck at him, too cowed to say anything.
Percy, on the other hand, was beginning to appreciate the hilarious side of the mishap. Snape had been dying to poison an innocent pet with that very same potion: it was poetic justice that he was now dripping it all over the floor. His mom would understand why he had done it.
His newfound good mood didn't last long.
Snape whirled around, foul green droplets flying from his greasy hair. "Potter!"
Harry gave a jerk.
"You thought it would be entertaining, didn't you? Such a witty prank to play."
Harry's mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. "What?" he managed in the end, "No, I…I didn't do anything!"
Snape ignored his objection. He stalked to Harry's desk, pale with anger.
Percy felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't punish his cousin without proof, could he?
Apparently, he could.
"Thirty points from Gryffindor, Potter, and consider yourself lucky I won't assign you detention. It amazes me how you have yet to learn not everyone is here to pamper you. And now get back to work, all of you!" he barked, "I don't have all day."
It was a bunch of disheartened Gryffindors that left Potions class half an hour later, after Snape had ducked yet more points from Hermione for helping Neville 'cheat'.
Percy didn't think he had ever felt quite this guilty. He was usually the one other people got in trouble in their place, not the other way around. He wasn't sure how to deal with it. He had even entertained the idea of telling Harry the truth and apologizing, but he was scared of drawing unwanted attention to his abilities.
Hermione misinterpreted his downcast expression. "I'm sorry, that wasn't a good first lesson, was it?"
Harry snorted. "No lesson with Snape is ever good," he said harshly, "he simply can't consider himself happy if he doesn't make our life a living hell."
"That's not true, Harry," Hermione said, "he's just…"
Harry stared at her expectantly. "Go on. He's just what?"
"An asshole," Percy answered in Hermione's place, ignoring her appalled glare, "I met a lot of terrible teachers, but Snape gets the cake. Well, almost."
Even if he had thought Snape was actually worse than Mrs Dodds, he at least hadn't tried to cut him into bloody ribbons. Yet.
"Cheer up, mate," said Ron, patting Harry on the back, "no one will blame you for a few points lost, especially from Snape."
"And we have Defence now," Hermione added cheerfully, "It's bound to be better than Potions."
Harry scoffed, but he was smiling. Percy's heart felt a little lighter: he at least hadn't managed to destroy his cousin's social life. "Anything is better than Potions, especially Defence. You'll have fun, Percy, just wait and see."
/
Percy didn't have fun.
That's not to say Defence was as bad as Potions. It was, in fact, a thousand times better. Lupin was a cool teacher – he had certainly earned everyone's respect with the way he had dealt with Peeves the Poltergeist – and the subject was stimulating enough to catch even his interest, not a simple thing to do.
It started well enough. No books and the promise of a spot of action sounded like a sweet deal to him, but of course, the stupid Boggart ruined everything.
Lupin led them to the staffroom, a panelled room with a set of mismatched, wooden chairs and a fire roaring happily in the hearth. He made them stop in front of an old wardrobe.
"This," Lupin said, waving at the beaten-up piece of furniture, "is where a Boggart is hiding. Does anyone know what a Boggart is?"
A Boggart, Hermione explained in her book-like fashion, was a shape-shifter. It had the power to take on the form of a person's worst fear.
It made for an interesting challenge – or it would, if Percy had any idea what his worst fear was.
"So the question is: what are you most scared of?" Lupin asked, "That's what the Boggart will take the shape of."
Percy thought about it, hard, but he wasn't sure he had been able to come up with a suitable – and honest – answer.
Though he wasn't keen on admitting it, there were quite a few things that scared him, and none that he wanted his schoolmates to see. Losing his mom was the most obvious. He still had nightmares about that night on Half-Blood Hill, even though he knew she was okay.
There was Smelly Gabe. He didn't like to admit it even to himself, but there had been a time, when he was small and still not so used to dealing with bullies, his odious stepfather had terrified him. The last thing he wanted was for the Boggart to wear his face, especially in front of his cousin and his friends.
Another, less obvious fear surfaced to the forefront of his mind just as Parvati battled her mummy-shaped Boggart. His father – or what his father could say to him. His self-esteem didn't need another hit, not after their disastrous and painful first meeting. Could the Boggart even make himself look like Poseidon? A Poseidon that called him a mistake and a disappointment?
There was no way he could turn any of that into something even remotely funny.
When Lupin ended the lesson before he could face the Boggart, he was in equal parts relieved and disappointed. He wouldn't have minded finding out his deepest fear, but he didn't want it to be such a public affair.
Hermione and Harry hadn't had the chance to try either, but only the latter seemed discouraged by it. Percy caught him shooting a frustrated look at Lupin as they left the teachers' lounge.
After the lesson, they trudged back to the Common Room to dump their bags and then left soon after to go to dinner.
Just as they were descending the marble staircase, Percy saw something that gave him pause. A small, blonde girl, wearing a blue and bronze tie, cracked the double doors open and slipped out, unnoticed by the masses of students crowding the Entrance Hall. Though he hadn't thought about her in the past few days, Percy recognized her at once: she was the girl from the Welcoming Feast.
Without meaning to, he took a step in the same direction, wondering why she was leaving the castle at this time of the evening.
"Percy? The Great Hall is this way."
He turned. Harry was waiting for him on the threshold of the Great Hall, while Ron and Hermione had stopped just a few steps inside. From what he could hear, they were still discussing their first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson. Ron was waving madly as he described how he had defeated his spider-Boggart; Hermione ignored him, exposing instead her theories on what her own Boggart would've been.
"I know, I was just…" he glanced back at the doors. It really wasn't any of his business what an unknown girl did in her free time, but he found he was too curious to let it go. "I'm not really hungry, Harry," he said after a moment, "and I'm a bit tired. I think I'll go back to the Common Room."
Harry's eyebrows reached his hairline. "You sure? If you don't eat now you'll have to wait until breakfast tomorrow."
Percy shrugged. "Yeah, don't worry," he assured, hoping his cousin couldn't hear his stomach's reproachful grumbling, "You go on without me."
Harry hesitated for a moment longer and Percy silently urged him to leave. He would never find where the girl had gone if he didn't hurry.
"Okay, then," Harry gave up, "I'll see you later. You'll have no problem going back to the Common Room alone, right?"
Percy assured him that yes, he could find the way back no problem, and then watched as the crowd of black uniforms swallowed the three of them.
He waited until he was sure they weren't coming back and then jogged to the doors, his mind half on the blonde girl, half on his cousin. Harry had seemed somewhat distracted and he wondered if the Boggart had rattled him the way it had done Percy or if something else entirely was on his mind.
With most of the students having gone back in, the grounds were empty and peaceful. Warm light from the castle's windows bathed squares of grass in yellow and the lake glimmered red and orange from the dying sun. Percy thought he saw a tentacle disappearing below the gentle waves.
A light was on in Hagrid's cabin and smoke floated out of its chimney towards the purplish sky. He could hear Fang barking excitedly.
The girl stood by the professor's vegetable garden, staring up at him and waiting, as if they were friends out for a stroll and not two virtual strangers.
Perplexed and a tad wary, he slowly walked down the gently sloping hill.
"Hi," the girl said when he stopped in front of her.
Her dirty blonde hair was piled up on top of her head and he noticed her wand sticking out of it.
"Er, hi. You knew I was…?"
She smiled. "Following me? Yeah, I saw you. You are Harry Potter's cousin."
It wasn't a question. "Yeah. Name's Percy. You know Harry?"
She peered at him from under her bangs. Her eyes were almost silver in the light of the setting sun and so big they seemed to protrude. "We all know him, but I don't think many people know him, you know?"
Percy frowned. "I…think I do." Maybe. He didn't think asking for clarification would prove useful. "Erm, what did you say your name was?"
She blinked. "I didn't say. It's Luna Lovegood, but a lot of people call me Loony."
He grimaced. "That's not nice."
Luna shrugged, not looking bothered in the least. "They think I'm strange. I think it's sad they are not."
A startled laugh escaped him. "That's one way of seeing it, I guess." He glanced back at the Castle. "Umh, not to sound nosy, but are you going somewhere?"
"Of course," she answered with a dreamy smile, "aren't we all?"
He floundered around for an adequate response, but came up empty handed. What was it about him that attracted weirdos who liked to speak in riddles?
"If you mean right now," she went on, "I'm going to visit my friends. Want to come?"
He probably would've felt safer had she asked him if he wanted to take part in a demon-summoning ritual. "Er, no, thank you, I don't think your friends –"
"Nonsense." She took him by the arm and dragged him farther down the hill. "They'll like you."
Percy tugged his arm free not too gently and stumbled back. "I really don't think that's a good idea," he tried again, not sure he liked the turn things were taking. Damn him and his curiosity. At best, she was going to think he was a rude jerk, first following her like a stalker and then ditching her; at worst, she was a monster in disguise and he was about to land himself in a whole host of troubles. Why had he thought this was a good idea, again? "Harry is, er, waiting for me."
Luna stared at him curiously and he got the distinct impression she knew it was a lie. "I think my friends would like to meet you. I saw you talking to them."
Percy stepped back. She had gone from being slightly alarming to downright suspicious. She didn't look so small and harmless anymore. "I talk to a lot of people."
That was actually another lie. He hadn't really talked to anyone outside of his Gryffindor year-mates since arriving at Hogwarts.
Luna grinned. "They are not people. Are you coming or not?"
He swayed on the spot, torn between following her as she skipped down the hill and going back to the Castle and forgetting this whole meeting had ever taken place. He had learned the hard way that people could be far more dangerous than they appeared, but despite being extremely weird and probably not all there, Luna didn't seem to be out for anyone's blood, much less his. Still, what she had said about her friends not being 'people' was not at all reassuring…
Whatever. He was too damn curious to go back and if her friends really weren't humans, it would be better to find out now than be surprised later.
He ran towards her form, now shrouded in the shadows of the Forest. "Wait! I'm coming with you!"
She slowed down and waited for him to join her. They were standing at the edge of the Forest. The ancient trees loomed over them, spectral in the early evening light.
"Don't tell me. We are going in there."
Luna's smile was almost enough to make him reconsider the wisdom of his actions.
/
The Forbidden Forest at night was eerie, much more so than at day. Every shadow was a monster lurking in the darkness of the thick trees; every sound the footsteps of some creature stalking them. The more Percy strained his ears, the deafer he felt, and though he kept his eyes peeled for any strange movement, he found he couldn't see farther than his own nose. The light of the moon didn't penetrate the thriving foliage and the blackness was like a tangible weight. It pressed against his chest, giving him the uncomfortable sensation of choking on nothing.
Luna seemed to know where she was going, never losing sight of the barely there path they were following. She had no problem finding it even amongst the blooming blushes and fallen branches.
"You come here often," he noted, not daring to raise his voice above a whisper. He felt observed, and he wasn't sure whether that was just his mind playing tricks on him or if something far more serious was going on.
"Yes." She tilted her head to the side. "The only one who comes here more often than I do is Hagrid. It's a pity so few people appreciate the beauty of this place, don't you think?"
Well, they certainly had more sense of self-preservation than he did. 'Beautiful' wasn't the first word that came to his mind when thinking about the Forest, though he couldn't deny it held a certain appeal.
"Where are we going exactly?"
"There is a clearing. It's not far."
They lapsed into silence. Percy didn't know what to say and Luna didn't seem in a hurry to keep the conversation going. She skipped ahead of him, humming under her breath.
Percy wished she'd be quieter. Dry leaves and twigs creaked under her feet and her voice reverberated against the tree trunks. Back at Camp, during their games of Capture the Flag, he had learned that stealth was a virtue few people appreciated: Luna was obviously not among them.
A sharp crunching sound echoed throughout the Forest, drowning out Luna's low singing.
Percy swivelled on the spot. He was sure the noise had originated from somewhere behind them. He squinted at the darkness, his breathing loud in his ears. Nothing, but the ghostly shapes of the trees. He pulled Riptide, still in its pen form, out of his pocket. He didn't care what his eyes were telling him – he was on edge. His heart thumped hard against his ribcage and his hands tingled, as if impatient to wrap around the hilt of his trusty sword. He knew something was there, studying their movements, waiting for –
"It was just an animal."
Percy started and Riptide almost slipped from his jerking fingers. He faced Luna. "Jeez, you gave me a heart-attack!"
Luna looked nonplussed, and generally unimpressed. "We need to go. There is nothing here, don't worry."
Percy threw one last glance at the path they were leaving behind. Maybe Luna was right, after all. Maybe he was just being paranoid. They were in a Forest – of course there would be animals prowling about.
And yet…he couldn't shake the feeling they were being spied.
They got to the clearing a few minutes later, though it felt much longer to Percy.
It was pretty big and almost perfectly round in shape. Trees so tall he couldn't see where they ended bordered its edges. Percy trailed his hand down the closest tree's rust coloured bark: the trunk was so large it'd take at least eight people holding hands to hug it. Its soft, brown needles carpeted the muddy ground, muffling the sounds of small animals scuttling in the undergrowth.
Owls hooted overhead. Percy thought he saw one swooping down behind the line of trees, no doubt decreeing some poor creature's end.
As he walked farther into the clearing, stepping through two thick bushes, their glossy leaves and deep purple flowers staining his white button-up, he became uncomfortably aware of the pungent scent of rotting meat.
It was overwhelming and it easily dominated over the softer and more fragrant scent of the flowers.
He gagged, his eyes watering. "Oh, Gods!"
"Don't mind their diet," said Luna.
Percy glared at her, a hand over his nose and mouth. "You mean their diet of incautious students?"
He leapt back when a high, and entirely too loud, laugh escaped Luna's mouth. She clutched her belly, tears of mirth leaking from her eyes.
Percy glanced around anxiously, worried the racket they were making was going to attract something unsavoury.
"Don't be silly," she said, still panting from her bout of hilarity, "they are scavengers, mostly. We have nothing to worry about. Ah, here they come."
Glittering white eyes blinked at him from the darkness between two trees. The creature glided forward, revealing a long, reptilian snout and a lustrous black mane. Its leathery wings were half-extended and its long tail swished excitedly.
A disembodied voice resounded in his head. Young Lord. You came.
Percy wasn't sure how, but he knew it was female.
A few more specimen joined her. Two of them were smaller and they came in at the tail end of the herd, stumbling the whole way. One had to be pushed back to its feet after a rather disastrous fall.
Luna fearlessly went up to them and offered them her hand. One of the horses rubbed its snout against it.
Percy walked closer to the horse that had spoken in his head, the first to appear in the clearing. Why do you keep calling me that?
She neighed and Percy thought it sounded a bit like a laugh. Because you are. Your father is our Lord and you're a small Lord.
She neighed again and this time Percy was sure she was having fun at his expenses.
I hope you're referring to my age, he mentally grumbled.
She bumped her head against his collarbone and though Percy could still feel amusement rolling off her in waves, he relaxed. He placed a hand on her snout, the way he had seen Silena Beauregard do when the horses at Camp got upset or scared. Her skin was cold and smooth, kind of like Percy thought the skin of a snake would be. Her large, pupil-less eyes blinked at him and she pushed against his hand. Percy grinned.
"They like you."
Percy tilted his head in Luna's direction, but he didn't stop stroking the dragonish horse's snout. She seemed to appreciate it. "You think?"
"Yeah." Luna stepped to his side, followed by one of the foals. It trotted up to Percy and caught the edge of his sleeve in its mouth. It tugged playfully and Percy caught a glimpse of its sharp teeth, as if its mouth was full of canines. "They don't like many people."
The rest of the herd approached them cautiously and Percy saw there were now at least twenty of them. Though they were pretty much surrounded, he wasn't worried. He could feel their curiosity, and their excitement, but he picked up no negative emotion.
"What does that mean?"
Luna shrugged, brushing the foal's black mane with her fingers. "That you are a good person, I think."
Percy's mouth twitched. Or maybe that I have unfair connections, he told 'his' horse. She let out another neigh-laugh and Percy thought she must agree with him.
"What are they?" he whispered, watching as the two foals circled each other.
Luna plopped down on the ground, unconcerned about the mud and the dirt, and crossed her legs underneath her. Percy thought for a moment, trying to decide how much he cared about his uniform pants, and then imitated her.
Now that he had stopped petting her, the horse wandered back to the edge of the clearing, taking the rest of the herd with her. Only the foals stayed where they were.
"They're called Thestrals," Luna said, "they're gentle creatures; a bit timid, but they don't mind helping humans if asked politely. Most people avoid them, though. They think they are a mark of ill omen, that seeing one of them is a presage of death."
Percy studied the foals closely. Their game had progressed to the biting and scratching stage – perhaps a bit violent, but no more so than what other animals, or even humans, did. He certainly didn't feel any different around them: their presence didn't trigger his demigod senses and his blood didn't scream at him to fight, run, survive. Even if they looked like something out of Tartarus, he couldn't believe such friendly creatures were an omen of death. They certainly had nothing in common with the likes of Mrs Dodds. "But that's not true, is it?"
His Thestral turned to stare at him and a shiver went down his spine. There was something awfully intelligent in her gaze. Your father is not our only Lord, young master.
Luna's dirty blonde hair slipped out of her makeshift bun as she shook her head. "No, but their spooky appearance puts people off. The reason why they are so misunderstood is that…only people who have seen death can see them."
Percy drew in a sharp breath. That meant… "I'm sorry."
Luna smiled brightly at him. Her face looked even paler and her eyes bigger in the soft light of the moon. "It was my mother," she said without any prompting, "I was nine. There was an incident during one of her experiments. She loved experiments, you know?"
"I'm sorry," Percy repeated uselessly. He knew what she must've felt – the loneliness, the helplessness of not being able to change how things had gone, the recrimination – that perpetual undercurrent of if only I had done something, anything – but he, at least, had had something to fight for and, in the end, he had gotten his mom back. Luna's mom wouldn't come back.
"It's okay. I've come to accept it."
Percy wondered distractedly if he would have been able to do the same. He somehow doubted it.
He glanced back at the grazing Thestrals, frowning. Something didn't quite add up. "You have to see someone dying to be able to see them? A person?"
Luna cocked her head to the side. "Yes. You don't have to tell me who it was, though. I understand."
"No, it's just –" he snapped his mouth shut, unsure how much he wanted to share with Luna.
He had never seen a human being die.
/
They remained there, gazing at the slice of starred sky visible through the thriving foliage, until Percy was sure their curfew was way past. He wondered how they were supposed to sneak back in, and if he'd be able to find his way back to the Common Room even in the dark and with the teachers patrolling the corridors.
When it got too cold to lay on the grass, they got up, brushing dirt off their clothes, and bid the Thestrals goodbye, at least for now. The female he had talked to wrung a promise to visit again out of him.
It was roughly ten minutes later that Percy became uncomfortably aware someone was following them. His senses prickled uneasily, demanding his attention, but he was still so concentrated on trying to work out why, exactly, he could see the Thestrals, that it took him a while to realize it.
Luna didn't seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Maybe she was used to being stalked; or maybe she wasn't as perceptive about this sort of things as she seemed to be about people.
"Hey." He grabbed her elbow gently and she came to a stop. "Listen…do you mind going back on your own? It's not far."
Luna cocked her head to the side, gazing up at him curiously. For a moment, he thought she was going to demand an explanation, like he would've done, but then she just shrugged, appearing unconcerned. "Okay. I'll see you at school."
She turned tail and skipped away happily.
Percy stared after her, his eyebrows arching. He had wanted her to leave, true, but the ease with which she had accepted his request seemed almost callous. Then again, she didn't seem to perceive danger the way most people did.
It was better this way, he told himself. If their mysterious pursuer was a monster, Percy was the one it wanted. There was no reason for Luna to get involved.
The Forest had gone unnaturally quiet. He hadn't realized it before, but the chirping of crickets and the squeaking of small animals had been the soundtrack of their night stroll. Now that he couldn't hear them anymore, he felt unsettled.
The sharp sound of a dry twig snapping broke the silence.
He spun around. Just as he had expected, no one was there – or at least no one he could see.
Percy slipped Riptide out of his pocket. Holding it, he felt far more confident in his ability to escape dangerous situations unscathed.
"I know you're there. You can come out," he said. Though he knew goading an enemy into attacking was neither smart nor wise, he couldn't help but add, "Before I die of boredom, if you don't mind."
A girlish giggle resounded somewhere nearby and Percy frowned, looking around. It sounded somewhat familiar…
A large bush between two pines rustled and a tall shape emerged from the shadows, the clop-clop of its hoofs muffled by the wet, rotting needles on the ground.
It wasn't a monster, but a centaur, though that did nothing to soothe his nerves.
He was as tall as Chiron, Percy's mentor and the only centaur he had ever met, but the similarities ended there. Compared to his trainer, who enjoyed tweed jackets and whose hair and beard were always elegantly trimmed, this centaur was downright wild. He was bare-chested – and Percy couldn't help but notice, with a twinge of worry, the muscles twitching underneath his dark skin – and his black hair was unkempt and long enough that it brushed against his dark horse body. He held a bow as tall as Percy was in his hand and he had a quiver slung over his shoulders.
Percy had to crane his neck back to meet his eyes; when he did, his throat went dry.
In his gaze, there was nothing of the kindness he was used to seeing in Chiron's. His brown eyes were cold and distant, and he was looking at Percy as if he was an interesting new toy.
He swallowed, tightening his hold on Riptide. He didn't uncap it, though: the centaur wasn't overtly threatening – yet – and Percy hoped that meant he'd be able to avoid a confrontation.
"Good evening," he said, "sir," he added as an afterthought, hoping that a little courtesy would go a long way. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at where faint lights from the castle made it through the thick foliage. "I'm a student here at Hogwarts. Name's Percy Jackson."
He offered the centaur his hand – the left one, so he wouldn't have to let go of Riptide. His hard gaze drifted away from Percy's face and down to the proffered limb. Percy swore he saw his dark, calloused hand twitch and relief surged through him. He didn't have the time to savour it: the centaur's hand stilled and an annoyed expression crossed his face.
Percy let his hand fall back to his side, disappointed. "You followed us," he said, deciding to forgo useless pleasantries, "why?"
The centaur stared at him for a moment longer and then looked back over his shoulders at something Percy couldn't see.
His breath caught in his throat as other centaurs, at least ten of them, all bearing ominous-looking bows and quivers full of arrows, stepped out of their hiding places.
"Well, that's nice," he managed to choke out, "did I interrupt your family reunion? Because I can leave. Like, right now. No problems."
The first centaur, evidently the leader of their little expedition, scoffed. "Not so fast, hu–child. Why are you in our Forest?"
Percy didn't miss his slip of tongue: he filed it in his mind. "I needed a bit of fresh air. Didn't think it was forbidden."
A pale, red-haired centaur rolled his eyes. "It's called the Forbidden Forest. Honestly."
Despite the snarky tone, Percy thought he sounded amused. He was far younger than the leader and possibly – possibly – more easily swayed away from a fight. One against eleven were good odds only when you were part of the eleven.
"Danaus," the black centaur said with very little inflection in his voice. His look, on the other hand, was sharp enough to convey his feelings perfectly and the redhead fell silent at once. He bowed his head in what Percy thought might be a sign of submission. "Why are you here, child?" he asked again, a hard edge entering his voice, "What are you looking for in our forest?"
Percy wrestled his heartbeat back under control. His hands felt clammy and sweat trickled down the back of his neck. "I'm not looking for anything," he said, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt, "a…friend of mine wanted me to meet, er, someone. The Thestrals."
The leader looked at him funnily and then his eyes softened in what might've been pity.
Percy didn't have the time to wonder why: he only knew he could use it to his advantage. He plastered a smile on his face, trying to appear friendly – all the while, his thumb traced the edge of Riptide's cap. "You live here in the Forest?"
The centaur tilted his head forward. "Yes, child. The Forest has been our home for centuries. You can understand, then, why we consider it our duty to protect her the way she protects us."
Dread curled languidly in Percy's stomach. He discreetly moved his right foot slightly back, widening his stance.
"For this reason, we cannot let you go back to your school so easily."
He uncapped Riptide before the word 'go' was out of the centaur's mouth.
The sword sprang to its full length with a sound of flowing water. Its celestial bronze blade glinted fiercely in the faint light of the moon; its bluish glow casted spectral shadows on the trees.
The centaurs thumped their hooves on the ground, but they didn't appear deterred.
Percy heard the unmistakable sound of a bow being drawn somewhere to his right and the redheaded centaur – Danaus – deliberately lifted a hand to his shoulders and plucked an arrow out of his quiver. A fair-haired centaur in the back made a noise of protest and tried to step forward, only for one of his companions to fling an arm out and stop him.
Through it all, Percy kept his eyes firmly fixed on the still nameless leader, knowing he'd ultimately be the one to decree his fate.
"Be careful, boy," he warned, "this is not a battle you can win."
Percy scoffed loudly and adjusted his hold on Riptide. From the way the centaur's eyebrows drew down, he had received his answer loud and clear.
"Very well. You give us no choice."
He raised a hand and two centaurs strode forward, their weapons pointing unerringly at him.
Percy breathed in deeply and the smell of their sweat stung his nose. They were nervous, and that was good: it meant he still had a chance.
The same unnatural calm he always felt during a fight flooded him. His racing heart slowed down to a steady beat and his body automatically moved into a fighting position. His sight sharpened, and though his surroundings were as dark and impenetrable as ever, he could clearly see the outline of every centaur. The Forest went quiet, as if someone had set it on mute – he heard only his own, constant breathing and that far more laboured of the centaurs.
They drew their bows back, slowly, giving him the chance to yield, but Percy only raised his sword, staring at them defiantly, ready to dodge and –
– a voice broke through the stalemate.
"Bane, please, think about it."
Sounds rushed back to his ears and he staggered.
The pale centaur had split off from the herd of warriors. He had white-blonde hair and alarmingly blue eyes. He held his hands up to show that, unlike his brethren, he wasn't armed. Percy didn't know whether that was for his benefit or for the black centaur's, who was staring at the intruder as if he was something particularly nasty that had gotten stuck to one of his hooves.
"I don't remember inviting you on this expedition, Firenze."
If the newly dubbed Firenze was troubled by his leader's – Bane's – dark tone, he didn't show it. He walked forward until he was standing directly in the path of his companions' arrows.
Percy lowered Riptide without a conscious decision, taken aback by the centaur's unexpected move.
"Ronan thought you'd need a…calming presence," he said.
Bane swelled up. His nostrils flared and his neck and face flushed.
Percy detachedly reflected that purposefully picking a fight probably wasn't the best way to help him not get turned into a pincushion by a bunch of angry centaurs.
"Just to avoid useless confrontations, of course," Firenze added hurriedly, before Bane had the time to chew him out, "We don't want Dumbledore coming here to rescue one of his students, do we?"
I do, Percy wanted to say. He'd pick a scolding and a detention from the old man over a fight to the death any day. Unless his mom was notified: in that case, he'd take his chances with the centaurs.
Whispers rose from the herd and Bane's expression soured even more.
"Just say your piece, Firenze," he ordered, with less heat than Percy would've expected, "we don't have all night."
"We don't hurt foals," Firenze said simply, and Percy would've been offended at being called a foal if the centaur wasn't trying to help him, "especially not –" he glanced at Riptide with an expression of mingled curiosity and concern and fell silent. After a moment, he went on, "Our people would be in greater danger were we to hurt this child. You know as well as I do that the Go–"
"Don't!" Bane barked, looking distressed, "Don't talk about this sort of things here. You never know who – or what – might be listening." His long tail swished nervously. "The child needs to come with us. He can cooperate or –" he glared at him, his hand flexing around his bow, "– we can make him."
Percy glared right back and with as much force. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Bane exactly where he could put his bow, Firenze interjected once again.
"I agree."
Bane's head whipped around.
Percy would've enjoyed his dazed expression a lot more if he wasn't so busy gaping at Firenze. "If this is your idea of help," he hissed, "please next time just shut up!"
Firenze raised a hand in a placating manner. "I was just trying to avoid a fight. There are twenty of us and only one of you. Bane is right: you can't win."
Percy swallowed around the lump in his throat. Twenty?
A bush behind him rustled and Percy cursed himself under his breath. Chiron always told him he had a bad habit of concentrating on a single opponent during fights and disregarding the whole. He had warned him that allowing himself to get distracted like that would kill him one day.
Idiot.
He needed to do better than this.
Firenze slowly moved to his side. "Nothing will happen to you if you follow us of your own free will," he coaxed gently, "You have my word."
Percy chewed on his bottom lip. Riptide was a comforting weight in his hand and he was tempted to just say the hell with all of this and make his way out of the Forest hacking mindlessly.
But…
He was stopped by the heavy, inescapable knowledge that he wasn't good or powerful enough to fight all of them together and make it out alive. Not yet, and maybe he never would be.
He peered up at Firenze. You have my word.
Percy prided himself on his ability to read people and there was no trace of deceit in the centaur's blue eyes.
He really didn't want to die fighting people who could very well be allies.
He recapped Riptide. "Fine," he said between clenched teeth, because, damn it, he didn't have to like it, "I'll come with you."
Firenze visibly relaxed. "It's the right choice," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Percy fought the urge to shake it off. He glanced back at the distant edge of the Forest. Hogwarts' lights cut a warm path through the night and Percy wished more than anything to be back inside the school with Luna.
With a sigh, and trying to ignore the centaurs that had just emerged from the shadows behind him, he turned his back on safety and followed Bane into the darkness of the Forest.
/
/
He arrived like a gust of sea breeze, swiftly and unexpectedly, blowing the papers strewn about his desk to the floor.
Chiron closed his book and pushed his long limbs out of his wheelchair. It wouldn't do to remain seated when in the presence of a God. "Lord Poseidon. Welcome."
He made to bow, but a wave of Poseidon's hand stopped him.
"No need for that, brother. I come seeking counsel as an equal."
His stomach sank to his hooves. While they were technically brothers – or half-brothers – Gods never addressed lower beings quite so familiarly unless they needed something done.
And the things Gods couldn't do on their own, rarely were an enjoyable experience.
"Of course, my Lord. Though I fail to see how someone of my station could advise you."
Poseidon rolled his eyes, looking at the same time annoyed and amused, and Chiron was struck by how much his mannerism resembled that of his only demigod child. "Cut it out, Chiron. You know I don't appreciate this level of deference. Unlike my dear brother, I might add."
Laughter came from outside the Big House and shadows darkened his office's only window for a brief moment as the gaggle of cheerful kids walked past it. Even through the flowers-patterned curtains, Chiron recognized both Clarisse, with a bunch of spears hoisted on her shoulders, and Silena, her slim arm in the crook of the taller girl's elbow.
He had had the pleasure of seeing them growing closer in the past few weeks. Silena had been the only one brave enough to approach a hurt Clarisse after Chris Rodriguez had left Camp to supposedly join Kronos' forces and, perhaps somewhat unexpectedly, the daughter of Ares had let herself be comforted. He was glad they had found each other in their moment of need.
Poseidon glanced at them, too, and frowned. With a foreboding creak, the door closed of its own volition.
"I do not wish to be disturbed," Poseidon explained. He waved a hand and a burst of sea mist shook the walls. It creeped up the jug of water Chiron had left on the desk and fogged up the window. When it dispersed, a deep blue throne, seemingly made of swirling water, stood on the other side of the desk. "Sit with me, brother," the God said, throwing himself down on his own seat in a careless manner, "this will take a while."
Chiron resumed his place, trepidation turning his usually flawless movements jittery. In his haste to comply, he almost knocked the wheelchair back against the wall.
"Are you still monitoring Albus Dumbledore's activities?" Poseidon began without preamble.
Chiron took a moment to answer. When he had gone to Olympus to warn the Gods of Dumbledore's visit to both Percy and Kikyou, they hadn't seemed especially worried or even interested, though Apollo had instructed him to keep a closer eye on his young daughter. Poseidon hadn't requested the same for Percy, which confirmed Chiron's suspicions that he was far more present in his son's life than he was strictly allowed to.
As such, his wish to discuss Dumbledore, and the fact he had actually taken the time to visit Camp Half-Blood personally to do it, was startling, to say the least.
Then again, no one had ever accused the Lord of the Sea of being predictable.
"I am," he said, "though, as I told you weeks ago, I do not believe his visit to be cause for concern. He has gone back to his school and I dare say the…situation in his own country will keep him too busy to investigate on other matters. Sirius Black's escape from their horrid prison seems to have thrown England into panic."
"So I have heard," Poseidon murmured distractedly.
Chiron wondered how much of his speech he had heard, or if he had really cared to listen in the first place, and aggravation simmered in the pit of his stomach. He didn't allow it to show on his face: Gods were wont to take umbrage to this sort of thing, Poseidon and his brothers more than most.
"I have never given much thought to that…school," Poseidon said after a moment, putting a peculiar inflection on the word 'school'. Chiron furrowed his brow. "But I took the time to watch in on its activities these past few weeks, ever since –" he waved a hand dismissively.
Ever since Percy was invited to attend, Chiron completed in his mind.
He had assumed the God of the Sea wished to discuss the sudden spike in monster activity and Kronos' stirring, that mentioning Hogwarts and Chiron's own interest in Dumbledore's movements was his way of making small talk, but now he realized Poseidon had something entirely different in mind. He shouldn't have been surprised: Gods weren't so good-mannered as to fake interest in something for the sake of conversation. He guessed you didn't have to when you had the world at your fingertips.
"You seem…troubled, my Lord." He dared to comment.
Poseidon leaned his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on his hands. He looked straight at him and Chiron noticed his eyes were as dark as the depths of the lake on turbulent nights. "That place is a nest of murderers and man-eating beasts. Were you aware a creature known as a basilisk was let loose inside its walls less than a year ago? Or that a possessed professor was allowed to teach for a full year with the faculty members none the wiser? Students were almost killed in both instances." Chiron had to admit he hadn't known. While he tried to keep up with the goings on of the world beyond the borders of Camp, Hogwarts was far outside his jurisdiction. Demigods rarely attended and wizards and witches had removed themselves from life in the wider world centuries before. "And Percy is –" Poseidon's mouth twisted in displeasure, as if whatever Percy was, was for him a constant source of worry and vexation, "– a trouble magnet. Can you imagine all the creatures he is bound to attract?"
"Forgive me, my Lord, but…how is that any different from what goes on here at Camp or even in the mortal world? Even taking a stroll through Central Park is a danger to your son. That's the life of a demigod, I fear."
Poseidon's jaw twitched. "I'm well aware of that, Chiron," he said, sounding cross. Chiron bowed his head slightly. It seemed to mollify the God: a sigh reached his ears and then Poseidon said, "I know it may sound hypocritical, but it's not the same. Percy can't control the effect his blood has on monsters. He can only train so he won't be helpless, and that's what Camp is here for. Quests notwithstanding, demigods are safe here. They have you to protect them."
Chiron smiled, feeling complimented despite himself. Seeing his students growing into successful heroes was his greatest pride – which was the reason he had chosen immortality despite the pain of losing his cherished pupils, his very own tribe – but it was rare for a God to openly acknowledge his role in their life.
"I'm glad you think so, Lord Poseidon, but I'm sure Albus Dumbledore is just as invested in his students' safety as I am in mine."
Poseidon snorted, as if the idea of Dumbledore being responsible for someone else's safety was hilarious.
Chiron didn't blame him. Dumbledore's track record, especially in the past few years and especially when it came to Harry Potter, was abysmal. Unlike Poseidon, though, Chiron knew how hard it was to be an educator of children with special powers and how many sacrifices one had to make in order to train a warrior capable of beating a seemingly unbeatable enemy.
They had different approaches – Dumbledore, for all his years, was still a mortal, and he wanted to think children needed to be sheltered and even lied to, while Chiron knew better by now – but he liked to believe the wizard was doing the best he could.
Unfortunately for the old professor, Poseidon was clearly too bitter that his son was now in the middle of it all to care about his reasons.
"And Percy," he added gently, "knows how to take care of himself."
"Of course he does." There was a clear hint of pride in his voice as he said that and Chiron smiled. "Still," he went on, sounding a lot less sure of himself, "he's young and inexperienced. And perhaps a bit…rash," he finished, looking as if it pained him to admit it.
Chiron disguised his chuckle with a badly affected cough. They both knew Percy didn't get his impulsiveness from his mother.
"I'm sure he's being careful."
Poseidon stared at him pityingly. "Perhaps you're confused, brother. I'm talking about my son: black hair, green eyes, kind of short and with the sort of attitude that usually gets demigods killed before their eighteenth birthday. Of course he's not being careful."
Chiron rolled his wheelchair back and forth. "What do you want me to do about it, my Lord? I could talk to him, but I doubt it would do any good."
Poseidon shook his head. "Perseus doesn't like to be told what to do. Your intervention might do more harm than good. I'm just –" his fingers tapped the desk rhythmically, compulsively. "I assured Sally – and Percy, too – he'd be happier at Hogwarts. I'd hate to think I was wrong."
Chiron gripped the armrests tightly. His mouth opened and closed a few times before anything came out. "You told them, my Lord?"
Poseidon narrowed his eyes and the back of Chiron's neck prickled uneasily. "Last time I checked, I was allowed to visit my family, Chiron."
It wasn't entirely true, but Chiron hadn't lived over three thousand – four thousand? – years by pointing out technicalities to hotheaded Gods. "Of course, my Lord. I was simply surprised."
He wasn't lying. Just as Dionysus hid his more compassionate nature, other Gods often buried their real feelings under a harsh and distant façade and Poseidon wasn't an exception. Chiron had learned to read between the lines, to look beyond what was offered to his eyes, but it still caught him off guard to see a God be so openly caring with his mortal family.
His heart gave an unexpected little squeeze and Chiron wondered at his own feelings. Was that pity? He, Percy's trainer, was allowed to show more care for the boy than his own father.
He intertwined his fingers on the desk, sighing deeply. "I'm certain you've nothing to worry about, my Lord," he said in a gentler tone, "Percy will be happier at Hogwarts than he could ever be in a mortal school and his cousin will no doubt help him fit in. As far as him being in danger goes…as I already said –"
"Percy can take care of himself," Poseidon interrupted with an impatient wave of his hand. Chiron fell silent at once. "Yes, I know. He will contact you, I imagine? I wish you to keep me posted."
"Certainly, my Lord. Though I dare say Percy wouldn't mind if you contacted him yourself."
Poseidon grimaced. "You would be wrong." He didn't offer an explanation and Chiron didn't ask for one. Poseidon had clearly just drawn a line over which he was not to step. "There is something else I wish to discuss with you. As you know, Zeus refuses to take action against Kronos' newest right hand –" Chiron's heart skipped a beat, "– but I trust you are aware Luke Castellan won't stop just because we're hiding our heads in the sand."
Chiron sighed heavily. He rubbed his chest, hoping to dispel the muted pain that seemed to have taken permanent residence there. Annabeth and Silena weren't the only ones hurt by Luke's treachery. He had brought up the boy from the age of fourteen, comforted him when the memory of Thalia Grace's death got too much and taught him everything he knew. He had believed he'd grow into a hero worthy of the demigods of old. He didn't understand how he had been so wrong.
"No, he won't. If anything, it will spur him to greater cruelty. Children never like being ignored."
Poseidon studied him in silence and Chiron hoped he had picked up on the deeper meaning of his words. He had been blind to Luke's struggle, but he'd be damned if he let it happen again, especially to someone as bright as Percy.
"No, they don't," was the only thing the God said. He got up, smoothing down imaginary creases on his blue and green Hawaiian t-shirt. His throne lost cohesion and tumbled to the floor with a splash. "I spoke to Apollo. He says something is about to happen. He doesn't know what or when, only that it will happen here at Camp."
Chiron scratched his beard, inquietude pooling in his stomach. "We will be ready," he assured, though he was feeling far from prepared. He'd have to tell Clarisse to intensify her training sessions with the new campers and Charles and his siblings would've to strengthen their defensive measures. They couldn't rely on Thalia's pine for everything. They'd need to set up a border patrol, too. Athena's children could do that, even if they were missing their counsellor and possibly their best strategist.
He hastily counted in his mind how many demigods were still at Camp and was dismayed to find they were far from enough: most had gone back home – Annabeth and Percy, probably their best chances at fighting off an attack from Luke, among them – and others…
"See that you are," Poseidon said, "this place must be protected at all costs." They both gazed out of the window, where the valley that was home to Camp Half-Blood stretched for miles under the scorching hot sun. "Talking to you was…helpful," he added, with the tone of someone who found it a great toil, "I shall see you –" he snapped his mouth shut, an incredulous expression crossing his face.
"My Lord?"
Poseidon's lips twitched. "An interesting prayer," he muttered. At Chiron's raised eyebrow, his lips distended into a real smile. "Nothing that concerns you, my old friend. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, my Lord. It was –" Poseidon had vanished into thin air, leaving his farewell hanging awkwardly in the empty room, "– a pleasure talking to you."
He got up from his wheelchair, stretching his now rigid limbs, and walked around the desk. He needed to call a reunion with the oldest campers and put together a plan of defence. Dionysus would need to be consulted, too, even if the idea left a sour taste in his mouth. He knew him too well to think their resident God would be anything but utterly uncooperative.
It was only when his hooves splashed in the unexpected pool of water that he realized Poseidon had not taken the time to clean after himself.
He would bet everything he owned the God had done it on purpose.
/
AN: No Harry's PoV in this chapter. Don't worry, you'll get him in the next one!