A/N: If there ends up being Dramione, I certainly don't plan on Draco being a complete idiot like he was in the first books — and besides, it'll be a very minor part of the plot.

POVs: Harry, Percy

Disclaimer: I own not thy Harry Potter or thee Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Thou art not my creations. Some parts of this chapter are quoted directly from the Order of the Phoenix, which belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 10

"What d'you reckon is going on there?" asked Ron suspiciously as Rachel basically skipped back to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Malfoy, who immediately started talking to her. But my attention wasn't on him or Hermione — it was on Percy and Annabeth, who were both staring intensely at each other, seemingly having a conversation with just their eyebrows. They both knew something we didn't, either about Rachel or Draco, or both, and weren't telling us just yet.

But there was something else too. It seemed, ever since we met them, that Percy and Annabeth had a larger secret that they weren't intent on sharing with us at all. I knew Dumbledore had already told us that they were different from us, wizards in their own way, but I suspected that there was more to it than just that.

Finally, Percy and Annabeth broke their gazing at each other and turned to face us. Hermione and Ron were still chatting about what was with Rachel and her new connection to Malfoy, and Percy and Annabeth seemed surprised to see me looking at them. I quickly averted my gaze.

Annabeth lay her head on Percy's shoulder, and he placed a steady arm around my waist. They were so perfect for each other — no one could ever deny it. I sighed quietly, wishing that someone would love me like that someday.

Fred and George made a detour over to our side of a table to try and interest us in their new Skiving Snackboxes. "They're great if you just want to get off of going to class one day. The only issue is that we still haven't gotten an antidote for the Nosebleed Nougat yet… working on that," announced Fred. Percy, who'd looked mildly interested the first time he saw the boxes full of pills for skiving classes, hastily backed off when he said they still didn't have an antidote.

"Oh, come off it, you two. You're not even supposed to be selling that awful stuff," Hermione reprimanded angrily.

"Says who? Ickle Ronniekins here?" asked George, and Ron's ears turned the color of beets.

"Well, him and me. We're Prefects. You have to stop all of this nonsense," she informed them in a slightly bossy voice.

"Leave me out of it," said Ron hastily. "I don't want to get in a fight with my brothers," he added as Hermione turned to give him her death-glare. I ignored them, staring slightly wistfully at the Skiving Snackboxes. We had Potions with the Ravenclaws and then Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins this afternoon. I wasn't looking forward to either class, especially after Dolores Umbridge had made her speech last night. Maybe I should take one of Fred and George's pills and skip — even if I was bleeding until my nose shriveled up dry and Hermione would never let me hear the end of it.

Too soon, lunch was over and it was time for Hermione, Ron and I to go to class while Annabeth and Percy had a break hour. Sadly, I hadn't had much of a chance to buy a Nosebleed Nougat (but Hermione would never let me anyway). But I sighed and got up with Hermione and Ron to walk to Potions.

Ron and Hermione were still bickering loudly over being Prefects and having to be responsible and the twins' Snackboxes; I ignored their fighting as I had so much in previous years at Hogwarts. It would make me so extremely happy if they would stop arguing one day and make up and never fight again.

We entered the classroom and made our way to our regular table at the back of the classroom, Ron and Hermione arguing with their eyes now and occasionally making odd sounds. Snape entered the dungeon classroom promptly and closed the door behind him, causing everyone to fall silent immediately.

"Before we start today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my… displeasure. After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye." He continued on with his little eloquent speech, and I listened to him only half-heartedly, especially after he threw me some particularly nasty looks. Finally, he ended his speech about O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s and whatnot, and told us the lesson for today, which was to successfully concoct a Draught of Peace. He flicked his wand to put the instructions on the board and told us to be finished in exactly an hour and a half.

The potion that Snape gave us on the first day of school could not be more complicated. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. I suddenly wished that I had bought a Nosebleed Nougat from Fred and George; anything besides being here.

After an hour and a half, my cauldron was emitting a dark gray fume quite unlike Snape's description of a silvery vapor (which was, of course, matched perfectly by Hermione's cauldron), Ron's was spitting sparks, and Seamus's had basically blown up like everything else he did in Potions class. Snape stopped by my cauldron and smirked at the dark gray substance swirling inside. "What is that, Potter?" According to Snape, I had completely forgotten to add one of the ingredients, syrup of hellebore, and so my Draught of Peace was utterly useless. "Evanesco," said Snape, flicking his wand, and all of the contents of my cauldron vanished with the Transfiguration spell. I gritted my teeth to prevent myself from kicking his shins under the table; he would have deserved it. Snape gave out the homework: a whole foot of parchment on the properties and uses of moonstone for Thursday.

The bell rang and I packed up my things, walking out of the dungeon as fast as I could, with Hermione and Ron in tow. Anything to get out of Snape's way. The amount of homework I already had for this week was a mountain; how would it be the rest of the year? I must've blanched, because Hermione stared at me. But I shook my head, and she finally turned away. The three of us made our way to the Defense classroom.

Umbridge was wearing a ridiculous amount of pink like she had at the feast last night, sitting in her chair as she wrote on the board with her wand. She looked so toadlike that I wouldn't be surprised if a long pink tongue came out of her mouth. After getting the entire class to say hello, she told us to put our wands away. I immediately became bored; DADA classes without wands were always horrible.

"This year we will be following a Ministry-approved course curriculum, and I hope none of you give too much trouble." She looked at me sharply. "We shan't be studying with wands at all, dears, so I'd be glad to not see any of them out this year. All you'll need is your textbook, Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard, and some parchment and your quill. Please write down the course aims on the blackboard." We all wrote down the rather stupid "course aims", and the air was full of resentment.

"Now, please turn to chapter one and start reading, take notes while you do so. Yes, dear? Do you have a question about the chapter?" Umbridge twittered in an unpleasantly fake sweet voice, as Hermione had raised her hand.

"No, Professor, I'd rather like to ask about the course aims." Umbridge's eyes narrowed slightly and she opened her mouth to speak, but Hermione beat her again. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells. Isn't that the whole point of Defense classes? To know how to use the spells?"

"Yes, and through reading Mr. Slinkhard's book, you should be able to do so." Hermione tried to speak again, but I had raised my hand, now wanting to ask a question to this arrogant Ministry woman. "Yes, and what would your name be?" she said, obviously annoyed now.

"Harry Potter. I wonder, Professor Umbridge, how we're supposed to fight in the real world if we aren't learning how to use spells in this class?" I asked, trying to hide my anger.

"Well, Mr. Potter, there's no need for you to know how to perform these spells, as long as you know the theory. I hope you don't expect to be attacked in my classroom?"

"No, but —"

"Then there is nothing to worry about. Unless you worry of being attacked?" she asked rather arrogantly, her voice still dripping honey.

"Yes, maybe by — oh, I don't know, maybe Voldemort?"

Umbridge squeaked a little when I said this, but otherwise seemed to just get angrier. "You have been told that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a certain Dark wizard, has returned from the dead. This is a lie. He will not attack you."

"NO, it's not a lie! I saw him come to life, he was revived in a graveyard at the end of last year, and if we're in the real world, there's no way we can protect ourselves with magical theory! Voldemort is very much back, very much alive, I saw it with my own eyes, I fought him!" My voice kept raising, even though I knew that I should shut up lest I want detention with Umbridge. I didn't reach shouting level, but was pretty close.

Umbridge stared at me, apparently unable to think of how to respond to my outburst. Hands were raised all around the classroom, not just Ron and Hermione but also Dean Thomas, a handful of other Gryffindors, and even two hands on the Slytherin side of the room — Rachel Dare's hand was upright in the air, and there seemed to be a green-tinged aura starting to glow around her frame. But I didn't even look at the strange light surrounding her for more than a moment, because the other Slytherin raising his hand was Draco Malfoy. My mouth almost dropped in surprise when I heard Umbridge say, her voice deadly poisonous, "Put. Your. Hands. Down." Reluctantly, everyone's hands went down, the last one being Rachel's. The green aura surrounding her glowed faintly before disappearing, and I wondered whether or not I'd just hallucinated that.

"Detention tomorrow evening, Mr. Potter. Five o'clock. My office." Umbridge said quietly, seething with rage, her voice full of venom like a snake about to strike.

Annabeth and I decided to go back to the common room before our Potions class and get started on the homework McGonagall had given us. Annabeth walked around the room once to make sure there was no one else in the room before sitting down with me at a table and demanding, "Tell me."

So I did. I started out with the dream I'd had at Camp Half-Blood, the one with Draco Malfoy and the Slytherin banner under it, and the Sorting Hat. She said nothing, but motioned for me to go on. I then told her every detail about the dream I'd had last night — from Rachel's prophecy repeating in my head again to Draco under the Ravenclaw and Slytherin banners that moved on their own accord. "And then he said, 'That girl… I've seen her before. But she can't… she's in Gryffindor. She's one of Potter's friends.' That's got to reference to you, Annabeth. And then he said, 'Clever Wisdom, cunning Snake… help me find my way. Great Ocean, you have to understand. It is not my fault.' And he ran."

Annabeth looked at me with concern. "I don't get it. So he was definitely mentioning me, but what about Clever Wisdom, cunning Snake, and Great Ocean. Maybe he's figured it out, Percy? What if he knows we're demigods?"

I didn't say anything. There was nothing I could say to reassure her. Draco Malfoy might know that we were demigods… but how he figured it out so quickly puzzled me enough to give me a headache. There was only one possibility. "Annabeth," I started, hesitant, "I had a thought, just at lunch today. If Draco has figured out we're demigods, a daughter of Athena and a son of Poseidon, the only way he could've found out so quickly would be if he — if he himself was a — a demigod." I looked at her, hoping she'd find a loophole I'd missed.

And she had. "But Seaweed Brain, he'd have been hunted down by monsters if he was a demigod already."

"Maybe Hogwarts has protection against other monsters."

"No doubt, but Malfoy goes back to his house in the Wizarding world every summer, and he'd be attacked there, wouldn't he?" And my shoulders slumped; there was no pursuing it. Draco Malfoy was not a demigod. But his eyes. His eyes. They were exactly like Annabeth's, and Athena's eyes. That was no coincidence, no matter what anyone said. What had Rachel said during lunch? Draco Malfoy came from an old, pureblood family. His mother and his father were pure blooded wizards. So, no, Draco wouldn't have a single ounce of godly ichor in his veins.

Where did that leave us?

It left Annabeth and I no longer pondering my dreams about Draco Malfoy, and it left me staring down at the blank roll of parchment that I needed to turn into an essay without writing in ancient Greek. As much as I wanted to take my time to figure out Draco Malfoy, it wasn't going to happen, at least not until I could talk to Rachel again. I sighed and lowered my eagle quill into its ink pot and started to scribble about Animagi.

Potions class was not nearly as difficult as Ron and Harry had said it would be. There were only nine students in the class, though; besides us, there were four Ravenclaws and three Slytherins — no timid Hufflepuffs, strangely. Professor Snape, the Potions teacher, started us off with a particularly difficult potion, though he said it was "fifth-year material" and that his previous class of fifth years had completed it fairly successfully, so all of us were expected to complete it as easily as if it was a warm-up for the year.

"You are to make a Draught of Peace, following the instructions on the board (the instructions appeared there). At the end of the hour, I want all of you to fill one flagon, clearly labeled with your name, with your result. Consider this task a simple wake-up for all of you moronic students who have forgotten everything about potion-making over the summer holidays."

And so we began. I grabbed all of the ingredients listed on the blackboard, after a small bout of dyslexia where I couldn't read them, and set them out on my table. It wasn't that hard, I found, especially with all of the new information from Professor Dumbledore in my head, and it was a lot easier than taking Transfiguration notes in class — the only issue I had was my sloppy reading of the blackboard with my dyslexia, but I could work through that. I could work much better with a hands-on project than with reading and sitting still for an hour. Annabeth, however, wasn't as successful, being the bookworm type, and stared incredulously as I added ingredient after ingredient into my cauldron, stirring and smashing, waving my wand, and muttering incantations.

Potions was already my favorite class, and I hadn't taken over half of them yet. I could appreciate a hands-on class. At the end of the hour, I poured a spoonful of silvery-blue, steaming Draught of Peace into a flask and gave it to Professor Snape, who stared at me, confused as to how I was in his class. I explained that Annabeth and I were exchange students from the United States, and how Dumbledore had agreed to let us take this class.

"Where are your schedules, Mr. Jackson and Ms. Chase? May I see them?" His question was not asking for permission, but rather an order. I pulled my timetable out of my bag and handed it to him.

"Very well, and the headmaster has agreed that you both should take N.E.W.T. Potions?" We nodded. "I see. Well, I hope you prove a good addition to this class. Do not disappoint me." And with a swish of his black robes, he turned and left to get the rest of the class's flasks, Annabeth's and mine in his hand.

"I see that not all of you are incompetent potion makers. Now, homework is sixteen inches of parchment on the ingredients of the Polyjuice Potion and what else they are used for, due on Wednesday. You are dismissed," he said, just as the bell rung. Annabeth and I packed up and left Potions, and I had an unerasable smile on my face.

Annabeth gave me an odd look,but I just said, "I really really like Potions class." She rolled her eyes, but said nothing else.

In Herbology, we started learning about the properties of Venomous Tentacula. Sprout decided to go easy on us, and only gave us half a roll of parchment on the physical appearance and anatomy of the Venomous Tentacula.

Annabeth and I then went to walk back to Gryffindor tower. I enclosed my hand in hers and squeezed it as we walked through the halls — it seemed like it'd been forever since we'd gotten to appreciate being together alone (we'd been too focused on the Transfiguration essay during our free period). The halls were almost empty, so we were almost completely alone anyway. I turned my head sideways and kissed Annabeth's forehead, and she leaned on my shoulder.

"I love you, Seaweed Brain," she said, looking up at me. I smiled against her hair.

"I love you too, Wise Girl." Just then, Hermione rounded a corner and almost walked into us, mumbling incoherently about equations and parabolas — apparently she'd just been in Arithmancy. Annabeth and I, both having taken geometry classes back in the U.S., stared at each other with exasperation.

"Oh, hello! I was just heading up to Gryffindor tower, done with Arithmancy…"

"Yeah, us too," Annabeth said, her head away from my shoulder but her warm hand still rubbing against mine.

"How was your afternoon, then?" Hermione asked, walking by us. "I heard you had Potions with Snape. At least you didn't have Defense. Umbridge is awful, she said we wouldn't be learning anything but theory." She cursed under her breath. "Damned woman. How was Potions, anyway?"

"It was awesome," I said. "I love potions. Favorite class so far." Both Annabeth and Hermione gave me a very strange look. "What? Oh, sure, Snape's bad, but potion-making is great." They both gave me another unbelieving look before striking up a conversation about Herbology and Venomous Tentacula. I tuned them out the rest of the way up to the common room, letting my mind wander yet again to the issue of Draco Malfoy. So he wasn't a demigod. But he couldn't be a full wizard either, not with how fast he figured out that we were children of the gods. Or maybe my dream wasn't actually real, and Malfoy hadn't been in the Great Hall last night. I shook my head.

No, I was sure that Malfoy had been down there last night. There was the storm and the lightning… oh, gods. I really needed to speak to Rachel soon. Annabeth pulled me out of my reverie when we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Snargaluff," said Hermione, and we were admitted into the now-full common room.

Harry and Ron were sitting in a corner, deep in conversation, half-completed rolls of parchment sitting completely forgotten between them. Annabeth, Hermione and I all sat down, and the two boys looked at us. "We were just — er, we were working on our war essays for Binns," Ron lied, his ears turning a red much like his hair.

"Uh-huh. And You-Know-Who is a girl. Now tell me what you really are up to," demanded Hermione, sitting herself by Harry and pulling out her Arithmancy homework — geometry, by the looks of it.

"Fine. We were talking about Malfoy and Rachel, and that horrible excuse of a witch Umbridge." I leaned in, suddenly interested. "Don't you think it was strange how Malfoy raised his hand to say something to Umbridge after Harry shouted at her?"

"I didn't shout," mumbled Harry, irritated.

"Yes, you did. That's not the point. Malfoy raised his hand, and all the rest of the Slytherins looked like they wanted to be Umbridge's best friends, by the smug smirks on their faces… and then Rachel raised her hand too, she looked like she was green —"

"No," Harry interrupted again. "There was like an aura around her, it was glowing neon green. So strange. You wouldn't happen to know what it was, do you?" he asked Annabeth and I.

I tried to keep my face blank, but all it turned into was a mask of horror. Annabeth, having had way more practice than I had and being a daughter of Athena, just looked confused, but my face gave it all away…

"You do know! So, what is it?" Hermione leaned forward, her amber eyes excited.

"Um… I don't know what you're talking about?" I said in a feeble attempt, but all three of the wizards before me glared. "Alright, I do know. But Chi — er, Mr. Brunner, told us that we couldn't tell you. I'm sorry. It's also Rachel's secret to tell, not mine."

"You mean the white centaur at your summer camp?" asked Ron. "Blimey, now that I think of him, he doesn't look anything like the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. Harry, you've seen Firenze, he's not like Mr. Brunner." Harry nodded at this.

But Hermione wouldn't let it go. She stared hard at Annabeth and I, and I immediately knew that there was no keeping it from her for too long. I would try, though. It would be best for Hermione, Ron, Harry, and the rest of the Wizarding world to stay ignorant to the Greek gods.

Thankfully, Annabeth laughed and saved me. "Well, I don't know about all of you, but I have a ridiculous amount of homework that I'd like to get started."

Hermione Granger stared relentlessly at me all evening, trying to crack me, but I said nothing, and by the time dinner was over, she had decided to give up for the day and went back to her homework and started knitting hats for something called spew. I hoped that she'd forget all about Rachel's prophetic aura and cracking me, but by morning, she was staring rather abusively at me again over the breakfast table.