Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, the setting, the series, whatever. 'Cept Helena. That's an OC.

Today Harry and Co. finally get some action. This is mainly just a filler chapter, so it's short. I'm trying to get back to writing soooooo... And as for the long hiatus...

ehe. Sorry.

It wasn't hard to tail the four Griffindores running around, hurrying to the location of their little duel.

Strangely, the Mist told not of Draco nor his sidekicks. Others, they might have thought the Mist had neglected to reveal that detail.

Helena knew better than anyone that the Mist neglected nothing. It knew everything that has ever happened, and transmitted them constantly, though not always when needed.

And then the Mist brought the voice of Filch.

Helena let them run, crashing and shouting and stumbling over their own feet as she followed close behind. She let Hermione repetitively hiss "I told you".

And then, as they dashed into a classroom, she lurched in after them, waiting for Filch to find them cornered and then-

"Ah hah, out of bed after lights out?"

Harry was the first to speak up. "Malfoy started it!" He protested as Filch grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "He challenged us to this duel and-"

"SILENCE!"

Helena released her grip on the Mist, snapping her fingers in front of Filch.

"This room is empty."

And then the man's eyes glazed over, as he made his way out of the room, shaking his head, muttering under his breathe about how the chase was useless and all he had done was stub his toe.

Then, with him out of the room, Helena promptly passed out.

"Hey!" Harry was the first one to rush over to her, attempting to help her up. "Are you alright?"

"Harry, she's unconscious," Hermione scolded. "We should get her to Madam Pomfrey."

Neville shivered in his nightwear. "I-is he g-g-gone?" He stuttered.

His question was ignored. "Not now, Neville... I think the way to Madam Pomfrey's through that door, across that hall," Ron suggested. Hermione and Harry exchanged looks, and in a silent, mutual understanding, both tugged one of Helena's arms over their shoulders, and they started out.

––––––––––

Ron was wrong.

It wasn't until they got into the room(that Hermione had so kindly unlocked) that they realized this was not where they were supposed to be at all. They were supposed to walk to a place where Helena could get taken care of.

Instead, they walked into Nico di Angelo and a three headed dog playing with a ball.

"What are you guys doing here?" Nico had growled, in a strangely dog-like way. And the three headed dog had growled in tandem. And, given that the dog was absolutely HUGE, it was, actually, very threateningly. Not to mention that the dog's breath smelled. Like seriously, it stinks.

By this point, Helena has still not regained consciousness, and Neville and Ron had taken to cowering in the corner, abandoning their immobilized friends Harry, Hermione, and Helena. Speaking of whom, I pray for the group's safety when she finds out that physical contact had been made.

Now, Nico, seeing Helena passed out almost draped on top of Harry and Hermione, shoved them both away, tipping a bit of nectar down Helena's throat, being the sensible(and most well versed in godly substances here) one.

"Ow!" Harry had muttered, very eloquently.

"Ow!" Hermione had mumbled, very eloquently.

Unsurprisingly, Helena groaned, and the first thing she did as she regained consciousness? Blindly backhand Nico in the face, shove him away, and fumble for her cane.

"Ow!" Nico had muttered, very eloquently, strangely reminded of when he had tried to get Percy out of that cell in the Underworld.

Helena blinked, as if just starting to regain her bearings. "Uh, sorry. Reflexes. Where am I?"

Nico made a mental note to never, ever wake her up from her sleep. Not that she usually did a lot of that, what with her nectar-spiked coffees. And speaking of nectar-

Helena swiped at her mouth with her sleeve. "Nectar," she'd said, numbly, as her mouth filled with a mild burning sensation. She must've nearly overdosed on godly foods and drinks again.

It was at this moment that Hermione finally got up from smacking her head on the stone floor. "Nectar?" She had demanded, always inquisitive. "What is that?"

"Nectar," Nico had replied. Oh, how Hermione hated the boy's guts right now.

"Well last I checked, nectar doesn't have magical healing powers!"

Helena huffed, now having found her cane. "Nico? Care to explain why there appears to be a Cerebus look-a-like, and where in Tartarus I am?"

"Let's get you out of here," was his only response as he picked up a bright red ball that had been abandoned on the floor. "And a word of advice, stop overworking yourself. Trust me, I'm a child of Hades. I've got all sorts of draining powers. I know."

–––––––

"Why? How?" Hermione hurtled the questions into the air, one after another after another. "I asked Snape. He said there was a golden healing potion. He even showed me some! But it's not called Nectar! And the girl said Cerebus, and Tartarus, that's Greek Mythology! Is she Hellenic, or what?"

"Hermione, calm down!" Harry tried his best. "How am I supposed to know about this stuff?"

Nope. Didn't matter. Hermione didn't stop. "It makes no sense! Why would it? And how had she just snapped her finger and made Filch believe whatever she said?"

"And then the boy said he was a child of Hades! And that he had tons of draining powers! What does he mean? Hades is a Greek God! He can't possibly be the child of a GOD!"

Ron sighed. "Change of plans. Let's just go ask them."

Hermione stared at him in shock. "You're a genius!"

And then, she hurtled herself down to the Gryfindor Commons Room, already planning her little interrogation.

–––––––

Helena had not spoken the entire morning, save for one sentence.

One deliberate, slow sentence, with only two words, two syllables, that somehow sent tingles down Hazel's spine.

"I know."

All morning, and Hazel had not been able to pull her mind away from those simple words.

"Come in," Helena's voice was slightly muffled due to the heavy interception of the Mist and the door between.

Hazel hadn't even fully stepped through the door before Helena's tone had become tinged with a sinister loftiness.

"If you want the full version of things instead of the simplified version, I can always ask someone to transpose the braille."

Hazel's eyes were instinctively drawn to the balisong, swinging and twirling and flipping open and closed and into all sorts of different positions. She continued staring at it as she tried her best to swallow her guilt.

"I'm sorry."

Helena merely waved her hand dismissively. "I assume you found what you wanted to know."

What did Hazel want to know?

Hazel's eyes remained on the balisong. Hazel wanted reassurance that this operation wasn't going to fail. Hazel wanted reassurance that she was doing something for once, that she could help the case.

"Did it help?"

Hazel wanted to say no. She wanted to, really. But somehow, her vocal cords morphed a no into a yes.

"Well, that's good. You can keep it if you want: There's nothing in there that I need."

"Why so courteous?"

Silence.

"As you are someone who has recieved my mother's blessing, you are considered part of our family. And family must help other family."

Helena's usually closed eyes opened as she continued, staring with an almost wistful expression into dark nothingness, glittering in a deep shade of emerald green. "Our demigodly blood may make us inhuman, but it must never make us inhumane."

"Your eyes are pretty," Hazel blurted out. "Oh- sorry..."

Helena smiled faintly, as if in amusement. "Really?"

"They're very green," Was all Hazel could handle. Veeeeeery eloquent.

Helena closed her eyes again, the balisong resuming it's action. Hazel realized that she didn't remember when it stopped.

Silence.

"Hazel..."

"Yes?"

More silence.

"What does green look like?"