GD returns, after finishing her exams! I'm so hyped for SOM I can barely contain my PJO feels. I cosplayed Piper at my birthday party on Tuesday and I received a Hufflepuff scarf and a Time Turner as presents. Naturally, I'm totally all over this fanfiction again. XD

So, now that's out of the way, here is the long awaited chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

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Without warning or hesitation, the Mormo lunged at us. We split like the red sea again, with me diving to the right into a pile of rotting, smelly wood. The invisibility cloak shrouded my body and confused her for a second, but she turned her attention elsewhere, to bear her teeth at a startled Ron.

"Stupefy!" he yelled, thrusting his wand at the ugly woman-creature. The red pulsing energy burst from the tip, knocking right into her stomach and sending her flying backwards.

Nico, from behind me, said, "Good shot!" He steadied himself from the broken remains of an old four-poster bed, and offered my headless body a hand up. I took it, also standing up to glare uneasily at the heap of broken pots that the Mormo had landed in. Hermione stood shakily, eyes never leaving the Mormo's frozen body.

"Is she dead?" Hermione piped quietly, obviously shaken from the encounter at the Shrieking Shack. Her wand pointed unrelenting at the Mormo mass, "I don't want to take any chances."

The pile shifted a tiny bit. All of us readied ourselves for another attack. But she was too quick.

In one swoop the Mormo had thrown herself at me like a rocket, pinning me to the ground. Her wicked grin was even worse in close-up view – every evil pore and bead of sweat was visible on her face and her jagged, yellow teeth glowed in sick delight.

"Hahah, little Perseus Jackson. You don't even remember who you are; yet you fight a lost cause!" she tried to take a chunk out of my neck, but I threw my neck out of the way and managed to avoid certain death. Nico launched a Flipendo spell to shoot her backwards in somersaults.

"What do you want from me?!" I shouted, as Ron hauled me off the floor and Hermione stood guard to ward off any more unwanted assaults.

"Isn't it obvious? Your life!" she growled back, flicking her gaze from Nico to Ron to Hermione back to me, "I've heard that you've been very naughty… too naughty to see another sun!"

"I was hoping for something a little less cliché, but whatever," I retorted, taking a deep breath and throwing my wand arm up again. Nico scooted backwards, wand in hand, to attempt to knock her from behind. But she wasn't stupid.

Mormo snarled, "Tsk, just like my master describes you to be. Ignorant, foolish… loyal…"

"What?" But it was too late. She'd already sprinted towards Nico, fangs bared, before we could do anything about it. She knocked Nico's wand away without any trouble, left with a trembling little boy at her grasp, hand on throat and pushed forcefully against the Shack walls.

"Let me kill you or I will kill him!" The Mormo said, a wild cackle enveloping her stinging words. Nico struggled under her grip, but she wasn't letting go soon. The Mormo pointed an accusing finger at Hermione, "And don't try any tricks, missy. One wrong move and the boy gets it."

Nico continue to squirm under her grip, scratching at the wood hopelessly trying to injure her with his own strength. It was a no go. He started to gasp, trying to absorb the air as the Mormo kept a claw on his bare throat.

I gulped. So I guess this was it then. A pulse of anxiety coursed through my veins – I couldn't let him die for me. I wasn't about to let anyone die for me. I barely knew this kid – weird, slightly creepy and somehow familiar – but if it had been Ron or Hermione, I'd have given myself up in a heartbeat. There was no difference; at the end of the day, they were all people, all willing to risk their lives for me.

I dropped Harry's wand and put my hands up, as a sign of surrender; the Mormo's smile widened. Hermione and Ron looked horrified as I slowly stepped across to her.

"Alright, you win. Let Nico live."

The Mormo loosened her grip on Nico's throat, causing him to drink the air desperately.

"Come closer so I can end this now," she hissed, licking her lips in a gross way, "And the boy and your friends will live."

I inhaled deeply. Nice knowing you, Percy.

My plight for peace was suddenly cut short but the words, "LUMOS SOLEM!"

Ron's voice pierced the deathly silence, as a pleasant ray of sunshine erupted from his wand and shined brightly on me, Nico and the Mormo. She howled, immediately releasing her captive to shield her eyes and skin. She retreated back to the wall, trying to shield all of her exposed parts with her ripped cloak. I took the opportunity to grab Nico and throw him behind me, since he was still guzzling the air like it was gold.

"Just as I suspected," said Ron cockily, moving closer to the Mormo with newfound bravery, "You're allergic to sunlight, just like your cousins. You can't escape this one."

But the Mormo cackled. She continued to shield herself but her wild eyes were just as bright and not at all outshined by recent events.

"Hah, you think I am exactly like my cousins? Imprudent wizard… I don't like sunlight, but it doesn't mean I can't survive!"

She swiped forwards, knocking Ron's wand away next to her, where Nico's wand also lay helpless, and dared to take another step forward. Ron scrambled backwards to join Hermione and I.

"Hermione… have you got any other ideas? If sunlight can't harm her-" he was cut off as the Mormo headed towards them again.

"Stupefy!" I yelled, hoping to buy more time. Luckily, the wand obeyed my command, and Mormo-madwoman flew backwards into the pile again and shuddered as the effects of temporary paralysis settled into her fibres. But she only started to stand again.

"Yeah, any magical epiphanies would be great right about now!" I said, looking back at Hermione who was blank-faced, wracking her brain. There had to be something that could defeat this thing; if sunlight and general offensive spells didn't work, what did? "Anything?!"

Hermione slowly shook her head, "I-… I don't know."

"Thoughts…" muttered a weak, raspy voice from behind them. Nico was rising shakily, still trying to catch his breath, "Happy… thoughts…" he managed to utter, much to mine and Ron's confusion.

"Happy thoughts?"

Suddenly, lightning struck Hermione's mind.

"Oh my Merlin, the Patronus Charm!"

Mormo was back on her feet, more eager to spill blood than a hungry vulture. She bore her teeth again, unrelenting as she made towards us.

"Quick, Percy! Together!" Hermione yelled. I understood what she meant, and although perturbed, thrust my wand up again and yelled in perfect unison.

"Expecto Patronum!"

I thought hard – focusing on happy thoughts. I hadn't many to pick from, but beggars couldn't be choosers. I remembered discovering that I had magical potential, the moment I knew I was no longer the 'dud wizard' highly believed to be amongst my peers and teachers. And the time that I had defeated Draco using a surge of water powers came to mind also. That was pretty wicked.

Then, another thought ruptured my thoughts. I didn't remember the details too clearly, but the image was so vivid I couldn't let it go. I was in a dark place… It was murky and visibility was at an all-time low, yet I wasn't fazed. In fact, I remember being delighted, euphoric, so ecstatic words couldn't describe this insane feeling I was experiencing. A girl, a girl whose appearance escapes me, wrapping herself around me and kissing me. She was just as happy as I was, both in our private, blissful world where nothing else could go wrong.

The resulting memory caused a huge surge of power to course through Harry's wand, and while I'd done an Expecto Patronum charm before, it had never been this successful. A stallion with wings, wispy yet strong, freed itself from the confines of the wooden wand and galloped towards the Mormo, remorseless.

Hermione's Patronus, an otter, joined the Pegasus it it's flight – nowhere near as elegant can I just say – as the Mormo froze in her place. She became paler at the sight, throwing out her hands in a surrender-like fashion.

"No!" she wailed, but as the two Patroni collided with her body, encasing her in white light, she failed to voice her cries any longer. I had to shield my eyes, it was so powerful, but my ears were still in action. I could hear an odd fizzling sound, coming straight from where the Mormo had been standing. The sound eventually faded with the light.

When it was safe to look again, the only thing left was an unsavoury pile of dust.

"B-bloody hell…" Ron was the first to break the uneasy silence that had followed, as the four of us let the recent event seep into our memories. Trust him to say something like that.

Hermione eventually lowered her wand, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves. From what I'd heard, the three of them – Harry, Ron and Hermione I mean – had been on blood-curdling stomach-twisting adventures already, but I suppose it was no excuse for being afraid. No matter how many life-risking journeys you make.

"You could say that again," to my surprise, she laughed. Probably another calming technique, but it worked. I laughed too. It was over.

Nico didn't seem as relieved, "The Mormo… I don't understand; these monsters don't exist. How did it get here? Why did it want to kill you?"

I wanted to answer, with a truthful unawareness to the answer, but Ron cut in before me, "I think the better question is how you and Percy knew about the Mormo and how to defeat it," He skittered around the pile of dust, grabbing his wand and tossing Nico's back to him, "I mean, if Hermione doesn't know about it at all? And she's the brightest witch of her age!"

Hermione went a little red at the comment, but I was a bit more annoyed more than anything to mention it, "Hey, it was helpful, wasn't it?"

Nico joined us and unhelpfully said, "Technically, the only bit of information we needed was how to kill it-"

"Now listen here, you little-" I began, before catching myself, "Look, I don't know how I knew that stuff. I just do, okay? It's like the whole water powers. I know about it, but I don't know how I know it."

Ron snorted, pocketing his wand, "Hmph, maybe you were a Roman mythology teacher in your past life or something."

"Greek," I corrected. Hermione cautiously approached the pile of dust that was the Mormo. The dust had already started to lose its form, crumbling into almost nothing.

"It does seem odd that the both of you would suddenly know this information. I mean, I don't doubt your intelligence – either of you – but it seems a bit fishy that she knew your name, Percy."

I couldn't disagree there (especially on the intelligence comment). How did this thing know my name? If she knew that much and was throwing threats in every direction, it meant she knew something more about me that not even I could remember. I'd done something bad – apparently – so what was it that made her attack?

"Maybe I was a rogue mythology teacher?" I asked, but no-one laughed. Not even Ron.

He shrugged, "I guess we won't know how she knew your name. And I think even if we tried to reason with the Mormo, she wouldn't listen. It didn't exactly look like she was in a mood to play tea party and share gossip."

A tea party would be great right about now. I hadn't realised how much that Patronus charm had taken out from me.

"We should probably let Dumbledore know what happened here," said Hermione, "He might be able to give us some guidance."

"Like how he told me exactly who I am and what I'm here for?" I said. I could see Hermione wanting to respond, but she eventually closed her mouth again, defeated. Dumbledore wasn't going to do us any good in this situation. We were on our own.

Hermione opened her mouth again and I thought she'd thought of a clever counter-argument to use, but instead she said, "Thank you, Nico. Without your help we wouldn't have made it." The girl turned to the boy who was just staring hopelessly at the dust. He seemed surprised at her earnest thanks, regarding us all with a bug-eyed stare that only reinforced his creepy eyes. Hermione then nudged Ron roughly in the chest and with a grumble he joined in.

"Yeah, alright. Not bad for a Slytherin."

"A 'slimeball' Slytherin," I added, to which Ron shot me a dark look. Nico didn't seem fazed by this remark, nodding and smiling – just a tiny bit.

"Don't mention it," he said. I had a feeling he literally meant what he said, "You and Percy did most of the work, after all."

I noticed Ron huffing a bit at the comment, "How did you know about how to kill it, then?"

Nico shrugged too, "I… I don't know. It just came to me."

"It's not on the curriculum, so I guess you just read around the subject?" input Hermione.

The creepy boy nodded, agreeing that he had just been smart enough to know the answer, but still seemed just as confused as I was. Even if he knew he was Nico di Angelo, Slytherin student with a fascination of ancient mythology, it was still bizarre that both he and I knew about the Mormo and didn't know why we did.

"We should search around," Nico spoke again, breaking the silence, "Maybe the Mormo left some clues for us."

"Good idea," Hermione agreed, using the lighting charm to provide a little light for us to see. Dusk was fast approaching and we sure didn't want to stay here for much longer. I made my way to where the Mormo had landed numerous times and poked at the piles of broken ornaments. Vases, clocks… it was like someone actually used this old shack for a purpose. I don't know why anyone would want to stay here, even for a night – let alone set up shop.

"When we're done this, can we go and find Ginny? I want to be extra sure she's okay," asked Ron. Nico responded immediately, looking up from his spot behind the bed.

"Yes, I agree. I want to make sure she's okay too."

His comment wasn't received well by her brother, but Ron said nothing and instead just glared hard at the ground. Guess it was still difficult to accept that Slytherin oddball Nico could be making-out with peppy and pretty Gryffindor Ginny.

"Hey, Nico," I almost said 'Taco'. That would've been awkward, "Do you like Ginny?"

Ron's head whipped upwards at the words. Nico nodded, quite innocently (bless his soul).

"Of course."

"I meant as more-than-a-friend," I prompted, glancing at Ron with a mischievous smirk. Ron was in a glaring tennis match, his head swinging between me and Nico, about ready to rip me apart with his bare teeth. Nico just nodded his head as blankly as he answered the previous question.

"Well, I suppose you could say we were best friends… Why does it matter?"

I could hear Hermione snigger from the pile of rubbish she was inspecting. Who knew Nico was this dense?

Something told me that I couldn't talk. But I decided to ignore that.

"Whatever," Ron muttered, throwing me a final 'shut-up' glower before returning to his inspection. I couldn't resist a smirk, about to give up on this area when Ron interrupted the search again, "Merlin's Beard!"

"That's a bit gross," I said, but Ron wasn't finished.

"It's a book! She's burnt a book!"

"What?!" Hermione roared, probably devastated at the idea of burning something as precious as a written passage. The three of us darted to Ron's location (Nico and I with much less gusto), who had swept away more decaying planks of wood to reveal it in all of its glory.

Indeed, a book; the once crisp clean pages burnt to ashes. Soot lay everywhere, barely able to tell it was a book, with only the scathed remnants of a decorated hardback cover remaining to assure us.

"What a horrific thing to do to a book!" Hermione shrilled, annoyed that someone could do this. I wasn't all that fussed, to be honest, although the importance lay on what the book actually had written inside, "What book is it?" She brought her wand closer to the book so she could attempt to read the scorched letters that were once a title.

I gasped. Hermione gasped. Ron gasped. Even Nico gasped, as the title of the book revealed itself under wand light.

O.. the …gins … Wit…aft and Wizar….

Hermione forced the words out, "On the Origins of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

=#=#=#=

"Oh my Merlin…" Ron said, as the importance of this discovery seeped into our minds. That conniving jerkbag Mormo just taken away the one link I had to my past – it was the one book that could potentially set me on the right course to finding out the major purpose set by the goddess. If any one of us doubted the significance of the Mormo attack and its relation to me, this could no longer be considered a coincidence.

Hermione picked it up, inspecting every inch of its cracked cover and parched pages to look for anything that give us a slight lead – anything. But it had been barbequed real good.

"No use," Hermione muttered, handing it to Ron to scrutinise, "All of the information in this book has been burnt to nothing. It's charred more than firewood on Guy Fawkes' night."

Ron nodded, handing it to Nico, "Agreed; you aren't gonna' get anything from that book anytime soon, mate."

He was right, for once. This lead was a lost cause. I scowled, regretting my previous casualness concerning the book. If only we'd been less focused on chilling in Hogsmeade and destroying Malfoy's sorry butt in a wizard duel to see what really mattered.

Nico didn't like the look of it either, "It's sad to see this book be eaten up like this, but why this book specifically? Although I guess it's a good thing you said it was a preposterous read, Hermione."

Hermione went red and we two boys felt mighty uncomfortable. Just before, she'd been saying how stupid the book was and how silly and farfetched the theories were… Now we were eating those words. Nico didn't know what the book meant to us now, so we all silently excused him for his naivety towards the matter.

"Well," Hermione said, "I don't think it's an appropriate way to treat a book. We should find it replaced. Maybe Madam Pince can get a new copy somehow… Oh, if only I remembered who it was written by!"

The thought slowly crept into my head. Maybe we could find the person who'd written the book instead of finding another copy of the book. I mean, who knew how many of copies were out there? Maybe hundreds or maybe this was the only one?

"I know who," said Nico nonchalantly, "Regia O. F. Mannes. I remember thinking it was a bizarre name." And Nico di Angelo wasn't? Hermione clicked her fingers.

"Yes, you're right! Regia O. F. Mannes! I haven't read this book in such a long time, clearly," she took the book back from Nico, "Perhaps we should inform Madam Pince on the book's unfortunate circumstances…"

"Tomorrow," I urged. The three looked at me, "We're all tired. I'm tired and disappointed. We should get some sleep."

It was true. I was disappointed. I'd just lost the only link to my past – my friends, family, memories… they were gone due to a single creature burning a book. I had to stay determined – I knew I would find some connection between these events and my life somehow – but where to start? On the Origins of Witchcraft and Wizardry would have been great, but where now? I was allowed to feel a little downtrodden.

Hermione patted me sympathetically on the shoulder, "Don't worry, Percy. We'll figure this out. Even if it takes us a trip to find this Regia O. F. Mannes, wherever in the world she is, we'll find out."

I smiled. Trust Hermione to have faith in me and our abilities to discover more. I turned to Ron, expecting a heated glare for stealing the attention from his beloved, but instead I was greeted with a gentle smile.

"Yeah, dude, don't fret. We'll find out who wants to kill your guts."

And that was a soppy as it was ever going to get.

"Thanks, guys. I think we can do this, too," I said, confidence somewhat improved due to my new friends, "But it'd be nice to know who did want to rip me into pieces… and why."

"Which we can save for tomorrow," Hermione said, beaming, "I am rather fatigued. After first lessons we can visit Madam Pince, alright?"

Nico piped up, "Could you check up on Ginny first though?" Ron stared at him with narrowed eyes but it bounced off of Nico's awareness radar, "I mean, how else would the Mormo know what she sounded like?"

He'd struck a chord there – how did the Mormo know what Ginny Weasley's voice sounded like?

"I think it's time we pay a visit to my sister," said Ron, making his way to the Shack exit.

=#=#=#=

Ginny Weasley was tucked around a book, in red-gold pyjamas and a dressing gown, when we returned to the Gryffindor common room. After slipping away the Invisibility Cloak in my bag along with a probably scrunched-up Marauder's Map, we'd trekked our way to the castle. Ron had obviously enjoyed the walk.

"That's my workout done for the day," he said, heaving a breath when we reached the portrait entrance for the tower. We'd been walking less than ten minutes and Ron was already panting heavily. Either I was in shape or he really wasn't. Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring his remark, as we neared the ginger girl by the fireplace.

We'd left Nico di Creepo outside on the staircase, since he couldn't come into the common room with us. The Fat Lady and numerous Gryffindor students were shooting him evils as we approached, so instead of having him be like a cursed artefact in a museum, we left him outside like an unwanted puppy. He wasn't leaving until we'd done a check on Ginny. No telling what the Fat Lady was doing.

The girl looked up once she spotted Hermione's bushy hair, "Oh. Hi guys, what's up?"

On the way up we'd discussed how we wanted to approach us – a number of times Nico input his say. It was like he knew Ginny better than Ron did.

"Hey, Ginny," Ron started. No doubt, without our carefully crafted script Ron would have went right out there and blatantly asked her, "We just wondered how you were doing."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow. I guess it was a bit suspicious, the three of us gliding up to her with our pearly-whites (or pearly-yellows in Ron's case, hahah) brandished, asking how she was. She didn't question it verbally.

"Fine, why?"

Hermione spoke up, "Actually, we were just hoping you were okay with Harry leaving for Salem. Percy said you didn't look too pleased when he bumped into you."

Her gaze turned to me, and I smiled wider. I don't think Ginny was as stupid as Ron said her to be. She pursed her lips, closing her book.

"Well, thanks for the concern Percy, but I'm alright. As long as Harry is enjoying himself wherever he is and comes home soon."

I gulped, feeling a bit bad for Ginny. Hermione had informed me that she had a crush that was larger than life on the boy, which was currently unrequited, and that talk around him being a rather eligible bachelor was a touchy subject for her. We didn't want to delve into Harry too much in her presence, for fear of setting of a woman-rage mode.

"Good to hear," I said, stifling a yawn, "Listen, I wondered if there has been anyone talking to you that you hadn't met before? That Malfoy guy has been trying to prank me since my legendary win against him."

Details of that fateful duel had since become rumours. I, Hermione and Ron had all refused to talk about it with anyone else, since I wasn't keen on everyone being in on my unique water powers. It was unnatural, to say the least, and I really didn't need any more attention than I had right now. We did, however, let everyone know in shouts and screams that I'd completed washed him away with my win.

Needless to say, Malfoy and his lot weren't going to say anything either since they were hardly going to brag about their collective loss.

The ginger girl stood up and smoothed out her dressing gown, "No, not that I know- Oh, wait, actually, there was this one time where this really weird student came up to me in the corridors." She scrunched her face remembering the encounter, looking just like Ron did when he was thinking, "She was weird, asking me how I was. I thought it was harmless conversation until she pinched me. I had half a mind to report her to McGonagall until I realised I didn't actually know who she was."

"What did she look like?" Ron asked.

"Couldn't tell you much since she hid her face with her black cloak well, but she was really pale. Deathly pale. Raspy kind of voice, too. Maybe she was ill."

"Why that little-" Ron scorned, to catch himself before he blurted out everything, "-snot. That little snot, Malfoy. Probably got a first-year and cast a Voice-Alteration spell or sommin'…"

It was a good save on Ron's part. Ginny nodded with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, well, whatever. It was only a pinch on my arm – no blood or anything. I don't understand why he wouldn't want to prank you Percy, since you're the one who handed him his butt on a platter. But whatever, I'll take one for the team."

"Thanks, Ginny. We should plan our revenge prank on him," I spoke robotically to Ron and Hermione, who caught my implications.

Ron said, "Good idea Percy," before grabbing Hermione by the arm and dragging her away, "No arguing this time!"

I had to stifle a laugh as she pretended to struggle against his grip and protest at the idea of avenging Ginny's sore arm. Even Ginny looked mildly amused.

"Just don't get into trouble, alright, Percy?"

With a smile I said, "You have my word."

She beamed back, before leaving for her dormitory. There were still a few Gryffindors mulling around, probably trying to stay awake for as long as the curfew allowed us. Apart from them, the room was quiet. This allowed us time to discuss the situation.

"So that nasty ugly smelly Mormo-thing attacked my sister just to get an idea of her yelping and screaming, huh? That's low. So low," Ron said, stewing over Ginny's frightful encounter. Hermione frowned, flicking back some of her hair after her fake act of rebellion.

"Just be grateful it didn't attack her outright. The Mormo broke into Hogwarts somehow, took that book, learnt Ginny's voice and then hid in the Shack to impersonate her, burn the book and trap us."

"And attempt to kill me," I added helpfully.

"And we still don't know why," she said.

We stood in silence for a few moments, contemplating the events. I started to seriously believe I had been a rogue Greek mythology teacher in my past.

"Holy cricket! Nico!" Hermione suddenly shrilled. She blasted out of the room to inform the Slytherin about the current state of Ginny's welfare.

Once out of earshot, Ron spoke, "I still don't trust that kid, you know. He just seems… dodgy. C'mon, I can't be the only one?"

Part of me wanted to agree with him, part of me did not. While, yes, he did seem creepy and shifty and kinda' scary looking, it was that piece of information on 'happy thoughts' back at the Shack had really helped us to defeat the Mormo. Without it, we'd all probably be down in the Fields of Punishment by now.

"I don't know, man; he did save our skins back at the Shack. If he wanted us dead, he'd have let the Mormo come for us."

Ron grunted in agreement, "Still doesn't seem like he belongs here."

To be honest, it felt like Nico didn't even belong in this world, let alone Hogwarts. It might have been because I recognised him and I had an inkling I didn't belong here, either. Both of us seemed like the odd-ones-out, displaced from our true societies. At least I had the social skills and acceptable appearance – Nico's look turned many people away.

But there were good people like Hermione and Ginny who were willing to give him a chance, despite his looks. Guess it goes to show you can't judge a movie by its trailer.

"But anyway," Ron continued, "He's not the real problem though right now. It's that monster we should be worried about. I know it's dead and gone, but who says more things can't come for you? We might not be so lucky next time."

Way to go with the doom and gloom, Ron. Unfortunately, what he said was right – when was the next thing going to come? Tonight? Tomorrow? A week? Never again? I didn't want anyone else being hurt on my account.

"The Mormo took the book from the library to burn it and she knew my name… That means it must have known we were looking for it. It must have known that the book was a key to my past…"

Ron caught up, eyes lighting like a kid at Christmas, "And in destroying it… delays your hopes of finding out who you were!"

"Exactly," We'd hit a crucial point in our thinking. The only question left was…

"Why did it want to delay? What did I do in my past that was so horrific?"

Ron considered these words for a second, before shrugging, "No idea, mate. It's strange how it wanted to kill you and burn the book… If she was going to kill you, what was the point?"

"You and Hermione and Nico," I responded immediately, as thoughts started to clear, "She didn't kill me but the book's dead, so even if I died, you'd be left without answers. Since I survived, I don't know what was in the book either. No matter what, the Mormo wanted none of the mist to be cleared."

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open at that moment and in climbed Hermione again, just as we could see the back of Nico stepping down the stairs back to his own common room.

"He's been told," she said with a gentle smile, "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed before any other trouble decides to brew today. Have a good night."

"Wait, Herms!" I said, which halted her in her tracks, "The Mormo. It burnt the book to make sure I didn't remember who I am, Ron and I have figured out. It wanted me to stop knowing who I am, so it can hinder me doing something somehow."

Hermione inhaled this recent information, scratching her chin like she had a beard and thinking deeply. Her facial expressions once again reminded me of someone who also was intelligent, smart… A wise girl…

"It makes sense. She did want to kill you, after all," she said eventually, taking a deep breath and snapping me from my thoughts, "I don't want to overthink it too much as we have to rise early tomorrow for lessons. Maybe if you sleep on it, Percy, you'll have a 'magical epiphany'."

"I am totally bushed," I said with a grin, following the two of them as they treaded up the steps to the dormitories. As much as I wanted to dwell further on my problem, my eyes were beginning to droop, "I guess sleep isn't a bad idea."

Ron yawned, "Yeah, I'm knackered. Night, Hermione."

She smiled and said, "Good night Ron, Percy," before bounding up to her dorm room and leaving us to ours.

=#=#=#=

I hardly paid much attention the lessons that next morning – my mind consumed by thoughts of the Mormo, the book and going home. I wanted more desperately than ever to remember who I was and just leave Hogwarts behind – as much as I'd miss the fun times I had here. The book would tell me who I really was and what I was doing here. I must have had some sort of purpose, right?

If there was the choice, though, I'd much rather go home. Hermione and Ron were two good people and deserved to do well in their futures, but their futures didn't include me. I wanted to go home – to America, at least. Maybe that'd jog my memories. I didn't fit in here, in Scotland.

I didn't think it was a realistic goal, though. For some reason I knew flying was a really, really bad idea. And that took half a day at most, so any other way would probably take twice as long. Not to mention I'd have no idea what to do after that. Hermione and Ron wouldn't be able to tag along either. I'd be on my own – an amnesiac kid running around JFK International Airport having no idea where to go or what to do next. Pleasant imagery.

Only at certain times during the schooling hours did I start to become more focused, like when Professor Burbage knocked my head with a book for sleeping or Professor Trelawney shoved her bug-eyed face in mine and yelled "DEEEEAAAATH!". When lunch hit, I couldn't be more awake (although after the whole 'DEEEEAAAATH' scene I think it would be hard to fall asleep) so the three of us hit the library by storm.

Madam Pince was furiously scribbling away on some parchment when we arrived at her desk. Her hair was scrunched tightly into a bun with about five purple quills poking into it. When Hermione approached quietly and cleared her throat for attention, Madam Pince's wild gaze flew upwards, her eyes sunken and her skin like old leather.

"Yes?" she snapped, flickering her gaze towards Ron and I floating behind our companion. She didn't look pleased, probably remembering our last time in the library. Hermione smiled as sweetly as she could.

"I would like to enquire about a book. On the Origins of Witchcraft and Wizardry, specifically."

Madam Pince's withering eyebrows raised on her head and her gaze returned to Hermione, "I've never heard it."

"P-pardon?" the girl stuttered, as Ron and I exchanged worried looks.

"You heard me correctly, Miss Granger. No such book exists in my library."

Hermione glanced back at us; at me. I shook my head, having no idea what to do myself. We'd seen the book with our own eyes, along with Nico di Creepo, so we couldn't be imagining it.

"But I took it out with your permission a couple of years ago," Hermione argued, "It was written by Regia O. F. Mannes."

Madam Pince grunted, "I haven't heard of her, either. And I don't recall you taking out such a book. I can't help you, now if you'll excuse me!" Her head focused back on her parchment and Madam Pince continued to write whatever she was writing. It was obvious she was done talking.

Hermione treaded back to us, equally confused.

"But… but how is that possible?" Ron whispered, glaring at Madam Pince, "Maybe she's lying."

"What reason would she have for lying?" Hermione countered with a sigh, "The book doesn't exist… But… But I remember taking it out, reading it for fun…"

"Maybe we're crazy?" Ron spoke.

It almost seemed like we were part of a nightmare. The key to my past was never part of this library; it never existed – well, it did, but… it didn't.

"So the book and Regia what's-her-face don't exist, but you remember taking it out, Ron and I remember looking at it and Nico would probably remember looking for it. So we're not crazy. This is just getting spooky…"

"You're right. This is spooky… And more serious than we thought it to be," Hermione looked over at the section the book had once rested, "I definitely remember checking that book out. I'll try to recall everything written in it but it was such a long time ago that I don't think I'll be able to glean much. But we know that we have to research something to do with how witches and wizards originated."

"Hold on," said Ron, whose face was scrunched up in his think-hard kinda' way, "Percy, didn't you remember something yesterday? Something about a red tick..?"

"…What?" Red ticks on my work were the last thing on my mind right now.

He frowned, "Something about a red tick. You know, when you jumped up from breakfast one morning and yelled it."

My eyes widened, "Riptide! You mean, Riptide?"

Ron grinned, "That's the one!"

"SHUSH!" Madam Pince shrilled, causing us to return to hushed whispers again.

Hermione remembered it too, "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about that! Riptide… um…" Without another moment's notice, Hermione bounded straight up to Madam Pince and attacked her with her questions. Madam Pince annoyed glare met her curious gaze, and pointed a bony finger in the direction of one of the aisles.

Hermione proceeded to stride to the aisle she pointed too, not even bothering to wait for Ron or I to catch up to her antics.

"One of these books…" she muttered, scanning the shelves for something.

"One of these books is going to tell us what it is, right?" I asked hopefully. Hermione didn't bother answering, which was alright, because I knew I was right. I was finally going to remember something.

"Don't just stand there like a bunch of wallys," Hermione suddenly snapped, looking up at us two with narrowed eyes, "Help me look for a book on Hercules."

"Hercules?" My question was largely ignored as Hermione went straight back to work, and Ron sullenly joined in. The aisle was huge – it could be anywhere.

"Found it!" Hermione piped, trailing her hand down the spine of a particularly withered book. I rolled my eyes – of course Herms would find it in a heartbeat – and scuttled over to where she was. Ron did too. In her hand, like every book in this library seemed to be, was an old and aged book held together by a weakening spine. The front was rather dusty from sitting on the shelf for so long.

"Jeez, this book better not disappear on us too," I said dryly, examining the cover. A picture of a sculpture was the front, depicting a bunch of old naked Greek dudes. Ron cringed as Hermione read the cover.

"The Labours of Hercules, by P. Sander," she said, "This ought to tell us about Riptide." The tension was clawing at my neck, so she didn't hesitate to open the book. It was full of posh writing, inked and barely legible. There was a collective groan from Hermione and Ron.

It was written all in Greek.

Hermione gripped the pages and scrunched her face, "Now why would the title and author be in English when the rest isn't? How are we meant to read this?"

But the words on the page made sense to me. I could read them – the meaning escaped me, but I could read the words and change them into English.

"Pass the book," Hermione did as I asked, handing it callously to me and crossing her arms.

"Great," Ron muttered, flinging his arms up, "Another lead down the toilet. We skipped lunch for this?"

"Not so fast," I said, flicking the book to the last page. Just as I'd hoped, there was an index, filled the the brim with more Greek terminology that I could ever comprehend. Scanning the words, I looked for something that was familiar. Not Riptide, but the Greek equivalent…

"Ah-nack-luzz-mos… Anaklusmos…" I read aloud, "It means Riptide in Greek." I wasn't looking up but I could feel Hermione and Ron staring with disbelief.

"Wait, you can read that?!" Hermione hissed as I followed the reference number, "You can read ancient Greek?"

"Naí- er, yes. I can read this…" There I was, thinking I couldn't read for toffee when all along I was reading the wrong material, "Anaklusmos… There!" I pointed dramatically to a Greek word that clearly yelled Anaklusmos to me, but was a bunch of random Greek letters to the other two.

"How… how are you-..?" Hermione shook herself off, "You know what, never mind. Just read the paragraph."

My throat cleared, "In his eleventh labour, Hercules used the sword Anaklusmos to defeat Ladon, a hundred-headed dragon who guarded TheGarden of Hesperides. The tree of golden apples of immortality resided there. Using Anaklusmos, Hercules was able to defeat the dragon and steal an apple. It is able to draw power for the ocean waters."

Even as the words flowed out of my mouth, memories started to reconnect. Networks formed and many things flashed inside my head, like mini-explosions. I felt overwhelmed by the amount I was recalling. Riptide was a sword… my sword. It transformed from a plain ballpoint pen… A pen given to me… Wherever I went, whatever bad thing I'd encounter, Riptide would be at my beck and call. I remembered one other important detail too.

"Hercules is a jerkface."

Hermione sprang with delight, "I knew it sounded familiar! Riptide was Hercules' sword! So… so what does it mean?"

There was no longer any doubt, my voice rippled with confidence, "Riptide's my sword. I've used it before."

Hermione's euphoria died and she turned paler than a sheet, while Ron's frown deepened.

"But mythology's exactly what it is on the tin – myths and legends and rumours! How could you have had the sword before?"

It was my turn to frown, "I don't know… but the sword is mine. I've used it. It's disguised as a ballpoint pen." My hands went instinctively to my pockets, but they were empty save from used tissues, "It's meant to appear in my pocket when I lose it…"

Ron just flung his arms up again, shaking his head in disbelief, "This is ridiculous. You own a sword that's now a Muggle pen used by an ancient old dude who never existed. You're bloody nuts."

I glared at him, "Then bloody nuts I am. I'm certain that Riptide is mine," I glanced back at the book before regarding him with a wary stare, "I'm able to read this, aren't I? Isn't that enough proof?"

Ron faltered; I'd caught him there.

"Stop, okay? Bickering won't get us anywhere," Hermione commanded. Ron dropped his glare and I shut the book with uncertainty, "Alright, fine. I believe you, Percy."

Ron wasn't impressed, "You can't be serious, Hermione?"

She turned to him, stony-faced, "I am, Ronald. We've had weird encounters with water manipulation and monsters of mythology… and he can read Greek while he doesn't remember anything else; I think that's enough to sway me."

I grinned so widely and let the happiness that welled inside me. Hermione was just awesome. I couldn't resist flinging my arms around her in a huge hug. She really was an irreplaceable friend who had faith in me even though I'd just woken up in her best friend's bed – so I had every reason to return the favour in the form of bone-crushing squeeze of friendliness. Ron was practically steaming on the spot.

"Can't… breathe…" Hermione choked, so I let the girl go and flashed another grin.

"Thank you Herms – you have no idea what it means to me."

Our gazes shifted to Ron, arms crossed and pose rigid. He didn't look like he wanted to believe me. He didn't look like he even wanted to know me. He didn't accept my claim when I'd said I'd lost my memories, and now he didn't accept my claim when I'd said I'd remembered some of them. You couldn't win with this boy.

Eventually, he caved, rolling his eyes and heaving a large sigh.

"Yeah, alright, it's all a bit fishy but I guess you are yourself. Maybe you're a descendant of the ancient old Greek hero or whatever…"

I took 'being fishy' as a compliment, giving him a thumbs-up of appreciation. Meanwhile, Hermione beamed.

"That's the spirit, Ron!" She hugged him too. One second he looked reluctant to even be here and the next his face had melted with the warmth of Hermione's hold. His face had burst into a colour as red as his hair. I grinned mischievously and waggled my eyebrows, but he shot me a look that clearly and blatantly said 'shut up'.

Once Hermione let go, Ron returned to Mr Stoic-Face and attempted to hide his blushing trouble. He did so rather well, "So, now that Percy owns a pen-slash-sword, can we go eat now?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes, we can work it all out over roast beef." The very words made my mouth water.

"Yum," was all I input.

We started our journey back to the Great Hall, discussing theories on how Riptide could have been passed down my family (if I were his descendant) to found on the street. Madam Pince shot us the evillest of glowers as we made our exit, but honestly, I was too euphoric (and hungry) to care. Filling my belly could possibly bring forth new memories on Riptide and who gave it to me, since I was in a little doubt about being Hercules' ancestor.

He was a jerkface, after all.

Our voyage to the Great Hall was halted when we met Dean Thomas in the middle of the hallway. He looked frantic, and immediately, I knew something was wrong.

"There you guys are," he said, with a frown, "I've got some bad news."

"What?" I asked, "What bad news? If it's about Snape-"

"It's worse," Dean cut through, seriousness dripping from his words, "It's Neville… He's gone missing."

=#=#=#=#=#=#=

Le gasp! What has happened?! We're actually advancing now...

... I think I have mastered Uncle Rick's use of suspenseful cliffhanger endings. XP

This was 7,500 words on Word so I hope you all enjoyed every part of it! Thanks to all the favourites and reviews; and please leave a review on this one so I know I haven't gone off-track!

Until next time,

~ GD

PS. SOM DJGHDKJNGDNHGHG I CAN'T.