I do not own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson.

Chapter Three: Camp Half-Blood

The rest of May went by in a flash, and soon the date for Chrysa's departure was upon them. June 3rd was the last day of school at Yancy Academy, where Percy Jackson attended, so they had determined that June 3rd would be the best day for Chrysa to make her appearance at Camp Half-Blood.

She shadow-traveled into Camp, arriving inside her cabin and leisurely unpacking her bags. She had eaten breakfast in the Underworld with Hades, followed by a rather – passionate goodbye. She had managed to time her arrival at Camp to give herself just enough time to unpack before heading to the pavilion for lunch.

Zeus Cabin was intimidating at first glance. A massive statue of the god stood in the center of the temple-like construct. The alcoves that lines the room were filled with bronze eagle statues. The domed ceiling was constantly moving with clouds and lightning-bolts. It also constantly thundered, which was why Chrysa had set up a permanent silencing charm her first night there.

Early on, Chrysa had Vanished one of the eagle statues and turned the alcove it had previously resided in into her 'bedroom' of sorts. Her bed was along the back wall, with a dresser on one side of it and a series of shelves on the other. She did not keep very many items in her cabin, due to her easy access via Apparition or shadow-travel to her bedrooms at any of her numerous residences.

She quickly unpacked the two bags she had brought with her and double-checked to make sure she was armed. Even within the boundaries of Camp, she didn't like to go out without a weapon. With her magic and her shadow powers, she was never truly defenseless, but it was comforting to have her wand in its arm-holster and several knives in various places on her person. The only visible two were a celestial bronze knife belted on her left hip and a steel dagger belted on her right. Chiron had tried several times to dissuade her from carrying weaponry that could injure mortals, but she had promptly informed him that she still ran into people upset with how she'd dealt with Voldemort, and she preferred having a readily available weapon that could actually hurt them.

When the lunch bell rang, Chrysa left the cabin and made her way to the dining pavilion, head held high. She received several looks from many of the campers there. Only the year-rounders knew her, since she was usually only there between the months of September and March. She knew she made quite a sight, with her leather braces and orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, skinny jeans, and knee-high combat boots.

Surprisingly, one camper decided to approach her. Unsurprising was which camper decided to approach her.

Chrysa smiled at the curly-haired blonde girl as she leaned in to embrace her.

"Hello, Annabeth. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too, Chrysa," the grey-eyed daughter of Athena replied. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of summer! I thought you had a job…?"

"I do," Chrysa nodded. "With the current – Olympian – situation, my father and my superior agreed that it would be best for me to come to Camp for the next few weeks."

Annabeth glanced skywards, then briefly in the direction of the sea.

"I can guess why. Well, I guess we'll have time to introduce you to the three-quarters of Camp who don't know you. Are you eating at the Head Table today?"

"I think so. I'll speak with Mr. D. during lunch, and Chiron will probably want to talk to me at dinner," Chrysa replied.

Annabeth's face lit up.

"Chiron's coming back today?"

"I think so," Chrysa replied. "From my information, it'll be within the next couple of days, if it's not today. But my money's on today. I'll talk to you later, Annabeth, alright? I'll try to stop by your cabin later?"

"I'd like that," the younger girl said with a nod.

Chrysa smiled in reply and moved on toward the dining pavilion. She had a great fondness for the young girl her sister had died to protect. She held some fondness for Luke Castellan as well, but he had changed after his failed quest to the Garden of the Hesperides. He had withdrawn from her – from everyone, really – and nothing she had done had managed to bring him out again. Hopefully, it was just a matter of growing up, and he'd come out of it. After all, he was physically older than her now.

She walked into the dining pavilion and made her way to the head table. Dionysus sat in the center of the table, wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts, and tennis shoes with black socks. There was a nervous looking satyr behind him, peeling grapes and then passing them to the god. The space to the right of Dionysus, were Chiron normally stood, was empty.

Chrysa moved around to Dionysus' left and conjured a chair. She took her seat beside him.

"I see you're back," he commented idly. "Bad weather at home this time of year?"

There was a slight mocking edge to his voice.

Dionysus was much, much younger than Leuke, and both of them knew it. He had not even been born at the time of Leuke's death, so he, unlike the other Olympians, had no long-held affection or awe of her. However, he did know how powerful she was, and he did respect her for that. She was his sister, which granted her the respect of him not pretending to forget her name, but she was also a hero, which he disliked on principle. Thus, the interesting dynamic between the two of them.

"Not particularly," Chrysa replied as she began to serve her food. "It's more the weather here that I'm concerned by, if you catch my meaning. Father asked me to stay here until after the solstice deadline. My Lord agreed."

She took the best piece of meat from her place and floated it over to the bronze braziers. As she dropped it into the fire, she thought, To my beloved Aïdôneus, so that you do not feel so alone.

"Does Chiron know you're coming?" Dionysus asked lazily, popping a peeled grape into his mouth.

"Not that I know of. I am quite interested in whatever little protégé he's been keeping an eye on though. I ran into them in New York a few months ago, but I'm afraid I did not have the chance to say hello," Chrysa replied with a smirk.

"Oh?" Dionysus said with a matching smirk. "Do tell."

Chrysa glanced around the dining hall at the eyes watching them closely.

"Not the time or place, I don't think. I'll be sure to share later though."

"I'll hold you to it," Dionysus replied, tipping his Diet Coke in her direction.

The rest of the meal passed in a minor battle of wits, Chrysa's sharp tongue easily matching Dionysus' drawling sarcasm.

At the end of the meal, Dionysus rose from his seat to address the campers.

"As most of you have noticed, we have a visitor," he drawled. "While the year-rounders will recognize her, the rest of you are probably unfamiliar with her. This is Chrysa Potter, daughter of Zeus."

There were gasps throughout the pavilion. Dionysus waved a dismissive hand.

"Yes, yes, we know, she's technically forbidden, we hashed this out years ago. Chrysa Potter usually only stays here during the winter months, but she'll be here for the next few weeks this time. Make her feel welcome, blah, blah, blah. Well, that's done. Feel free to leave whenever."

Many campers chose that moment to leave. Dionysus turned to Chrysa and asked, "Poker? I haven't had anyone decent to play with since Chiron's been gone."

"Certainly," Chrysa replied. She had to tell Dionysus the story of the Fury attack anyway.

It was nearly dinnertime when Chiron arrived at the Big House. He obviously came to find Dionysus first and report that he had returned. He seemed shocked to see Chrysa sitting with him.

"Oh, you're back," Dionysus said dismissively, keeping his attention on the Exploding Snap game that the pair were playing.

"Hi Chiron," Chrysa said with a wave, before reaching out to slap a matching pair of cards.

"Hello, Chrysa," the centaur replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting. Father and Lord Hades agreed that it would be safest for me to be here for the moment, until this Master-bolt matter is solved. Both for my safety and the safety of the campers. I arrived shortly before lunch today. Where's your house-call?" she asked.

"His mother doesn't want him sent to camp yet," Chiron admitted. "He's powerful though. He's not going to last much longer in the outside world. Grover's keeping an eye on him. He's going to try to convince Mrs. Jackson to send her son to Camp."

"Grover? As in the-satyr-who-let-my-sister-die Grover?" Chrysa asked, her voice going cold, even though she already knew the answer.

"Yes, that Grover. Grover Underwood is his full name," Chiron replied.

"What's your protégé's name?" Chrysa asked, despite knowing the answer full-well.

"Percy Jackson. You'll hopefully be meeting him in the next few days."

As it turned out, Chrysa met him that very night, as a raging thunderstorm swept around Camp. She was embroiled in a fierce poker tournament with Chiron, Dionysus, and Annabeth when Dionysus tilted his head and said, "There's something happening outside the wards."

Chrysa immediately covered her cards and closed her eyes, casting her senses outward through the shadows, toward Half-Blood Hill. What she saw was shocking and somewhat horrifying.

The Minotaur was there, along with the satyr Grover, Percy Jackson, and a clear-sighted mortal woman who must have been Jackson's mother. The Minotaur had charged Mrs. Jackson, and was just closing his fists around her neck when the woman dissolved into golden light. She knew instantly what that meant. Hades had taken her.

The Minotaur was leaning over the unconscious satyr when Jackson yelled, "Hey!" and started waving his red rain jacket.

"Hey, stupid!" the boy yelled. "Ground beef!"

The Minotaur roared and shook its fists at the young demigod before charging. Instead of jumping to the side like the matador he was imitating, Jackson leapt forward, kicked off the monster's head, turned in midair, and landed on its neck. He locked his arms around the horns in order to keep from being thrown off.

"Impressive," Chrysa whispered.

"Chrysa?" Chiron asked. "What is it?"

"Shh!" she exclaimed. "I'm watching the show."

In the meantime, the satyr moaned something and attracted the Minotaur's ire. He was getting ready to charge when Jackson snapped one of its horns off.

The monster screamed in fury and threw Jackson through the air. He landed on his back and seemed to crack his head rather hard on a rock, but he had managed to hold onto the horn.

The Minotaur charged, but Jackson rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past him, the demigod drove the broken horn straight into the Minotaur's side, right up under his furry rib cage.

As with all monsters, the Minotaur crumpled into dust.

"Chrysa?" Chiron asked again. "Does someone need our help?"

"He's not quite past the boundary yet," Chrysa replied, opening her eyes. "He'll probably need help making it to the Big House; he cracked his head rather hard on a rock, and the satyr appears to be semi-conscious. They ought to be fine in a few days though."

"Who, Chrysa?" Chiron urged.

"Your little protégé and Grover Underwood," Chrysa replied, placing her cards down face up. "A royal flush. The laurels, if you will, Mr. D.?"

Dionysus grudgingly handed over the golden laurels that signified the winner of the previous game.

"I suppose we have to stop now to go see the boy?" he drawled.

"I would prefer we did," Chiron said.

By the time they were all up and made it to the front porch, Percy Jackson had already collapsed there. It appeared that he had carried Grover Underwood there from Half-Blood Hill.

"He's the one," Annabeth said. "He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," Chiron chided. "He's still conscious. Bring them inside."

Annabeth looked to Chrysa, who had her wand in hand with a flick of her wrist. She did a familiar swish-and-flick motion, and both bodies levitated themselves before them into the hospital wing. She and Annabeth remained there in order to aid Chiron in healing the pair.

Grover was up again within the hour, twisting his hands and bemoaning the fact that he had failed to get Percy into Camp unharmed. He genuinely seemed to care for the boy, and winced when Chrysa made a snide comment about his bad record for keeping demigods safe.

Percy Jackson, on the other hand, was out for two days. Chrysa had given up on babysitting duty by the time he came to, and had returned to playing games with Chiron and Dionysus to pass the time. Annabeth joined them when she wasn't watching the Jackson boy.

Percy Jackson finally chose to wake up during one of the times that Chrysa, Chiron, and Dionysus were playing poker. Much to Dionysus' dismay, either Chrysa or Chiron had won every hand. Annabeth was leaning on the porch rail next to them. The boy announced his approach by crying out, "Mr. Brunner!"

Chiron turned to smile at the boy.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

Chiron gestured to the chair across from Chrysa, to Dionysus' right.

The god looked at Jackson and heaved a great sigh.

"Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks," the boy said as he scooted his chair slightly further away from him.

"Annabeth?" Chiron called, gesturing the younger girl forwards.

Chiron introduced, "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in Cabin Eleven for now."

"Sure, Chiron," Annabeth said. She looked at the Minotaur horn in the boy's hands, then back at him. She told him, "You drool when you sleep," before sprinting off towards the cabins.

"And this, Percy, is Chrysa. She's one of our oldest campers, though this is the first time she's spent the summer with us."

"Pleasure to meet you," Chrysa said, extending her hand to the boy.

"You're British?" he asked curiously.

Chrysa let out a small laugh. "Born and raised, I'm afraid, though I've lived in the States for eight years now."

"So," Jackson said, looking nervous, "you, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," Chiron said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay," the boy said, looking completely befuddled. He looked over at Dionysus. "And Mr. D…does that stand for something?"

Dionysus stopped shuffling the cards and gave the boy a look.

"Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."

"Oh. Right. Sorry," Jackson said, still sounding confused.

"I must say, Percy," Chiron said, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?" Jackson questioned.

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to…ah, take a leave of absence."

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Jackson asked warily.

Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Even if some people wanted to interfere with the entrance exam," Chrysa said, glaring slightly at Chiron.

"Are we playing or not?" Dionysus demanded. He turned to eye Jackson suspiciously. "You do know how to play pinochle?"

"I'm afraid not," the boy said.

"I'm afraid not, sir," Dionysus corrected.

"Sir," Jackson parroted with a slightly angry look.

"Well," Dionysus said, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules."

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron said.

"Please," the boy said, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun – Chiron – why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

"I asked the same question," Dionysus said with a snort.

"So did I," Chrysa added. Dionysus gestured to her with his can of Diet Coke, and they clinked their soda cans together. He then dealt the cards.

Chiron smiled sympathetically at Jackson.

"Percy," he said, "did your mother tell you nothing?"

"She said…she told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her," the boy said.

"Typical," Dionysus said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" Jackson asked.

Dionysus impatiently explained how to bid in pinochle, and Jackson proceeded to make his bid.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"It would still help," Chrysa pointed out. "You had me watch it, and I already knew most of this."

"Orientation film?" the boy asked.

"No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know that you have killed the Minotaur," he said, pointing to the shoebox the boy held. "No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods – the forces you call the Greek gods – are very much alive."

The boy stared blankly at them.

Dionysus interrupted the silence by yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

The satyr bit a large chunk out of the aluminum can and chewed it mournfully.

"Wait," Jackson said, "you're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron said, "God – capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical?" the boy asked, bewildered. "But you were just talking about…"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller?" the boy questioned.

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class."

"Zeus. Hera. Apollo. You mean them," the boy said, dumbfounded.

There was thunder in the distance.

"Why do some Latin teachers choose to use the Greek names in Latin class? My first Latin teacher did the same," Chrysa said. "They're not even words in Latin. We had to learn the Roman names later in order to translate properly."

"I kept the names Greek in order to not confuse Percy here," Chiron explained. "I can't speak for other Latin teachers."

"Young man," Dionysus said, addressing Jackson, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you."

"But they're stories!" the boy protested. "They're – myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Dionysus scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson," – the boy flinched when his full name was said – "what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now? Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals – they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

"Well," Chrysa pointed out, "they're not hiding in dark caves anymore. I think that in and of itself counts as development."

"Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," Jackson said.

"Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"

The boy opened his mouth to speak, the shut it again. Finally, he said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Dionysus muttered. "Before one of them incinerates you."

"P-please, sir," Grover stuttered. "He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Dionysus grumbled. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!"

He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table. It filled itself with red wine.

"Mr. D," Chiron warned, barely looking up, "your restrictions."

Dionysus looked at the goblet and feigned surprise.

"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"

It thundered briefly.

Before he could change it into a Diet Coke, Chrysa reached over and snagged the wine glass.

Dionysus glared at her.

She huffed haughtily.

"I'm not the one on probation. And you always summon the best wines."

She lightly sniffed the glass, then asked, "Cabernet?"

Dionysus nodded, looking slightly appeased by her flattery. "It's the 1945 Mouton-Rothschild."

"Wonderful," Chrysa agreed, taking a sip.

Dionysus sighed and summoned up a can of Diet Coke, popped the top, and went back to the card game.

Chiron winked at Jackson.

"Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," the boy said flatly, still staring between Dionysus' Diet Coke and the goblet of wine that Chrysa had stolen.

"Yes," Dionysus confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time – well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away – the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha! Absolutely unfair."

He sounded like a pouting little kid, though Chrysa kept that thought to herself.

"And…" the boy stammered, "your father is…"

"Di immortales, Chiron, I thought you taught this boy the basics!" Dionysus exclaimed. "My father is Zeus, of course."

Chrysa could practically see Jackson running through D names in Greek mythology in his mind.

"You're Dionysus," he finally said. "The god of wine."

Dionysus rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?"

"Y-yes, Mr. D," the satyr stammered.

"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"

"You're a god," the boy said flatly.

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

Dionysus looked Jackson straight in the eyes, then asked quietly, "Would you like to test me, child?"

"No. No, sir," the boy replied.

He turned back to the card game.

"I believe I win."

"Actually, I win," Chrysa said, laying down her hand. "And Chiron takes second, if I'm not mistaken."

Dionysus sighed through his nose, then got up from his chair. Grover leapt up from his position leaning on the porch rail.

"I'm tired," Dionysus declared. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

The satyr looked like he was sweating. Chrysa hid her smirk.

"Y-yes, sir," he replied.

Dionysus turned to Jackson and said, "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners," before sweeping into the farmhouse, followed closely by the satyr.

"Will Grover be okay?" the boy asked.

Chiron nodded, looking slightly troubled.

"Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been…ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," the boy said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"

"Well, now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moved, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like…in America?" the boy asked in shock.

"Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West."

"The what?" the boy asked.

"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know – or as I hope you know, since you passed my course – the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps – Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on – but the same forces, the same gods."

"And then they died," the boy said flatly.

"You did just meet Dionysus, you know," Chrysa pointed out.

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in you United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington, D.C. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed multiple places. Like it or not – and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either – America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

"Not that they are bound to America or anything. After all, I'm from Britain, and I've been reliably informed that I was conceived in Australia," Chrysa put in.

Jackson was just sitting in shocked silence. Finally, he asked, "Who are you, Chiron? Who…who am I?"

Chiron smiled, and shifted his weight as he prepared to get out of his chair.

"Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

He rose from his wheelchair, revealing his horsey lower half.

"What a relief," he said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers. Are you coming, Chrysa?"

"Certainly," the immortal demigoddess replied. "I might as well, since all of my gaming friends are leaving me."

She rose from her seat and stood on Chiron's right as he began the tour of the camp.

As they passed the volleyball pit, several campers nudged each other and pointed to the Jackson boy's minotaur horn. One said, "That's him."

The boy looked slightly uncomfortable at the attention, most of which was from teenagers years older than he was. A good percentage looked older than Chrysa as well, but the word had spread about her suspected age, since she had never confirmed or denied anything, and no one had attempted anything against her yet.

"What's up there?" the boy asked, pointing towards the attic of the Big House.

Chiron's smile faded slightly.

"Just the attic," he replied.

"Somebody lives there?" the boy persisted.

"No," Chiron said with finality. "Not a single living thing. Come along, Percy."

They continued the tour through the strawberry fields. Some members of Demeter cabin were picking strawberries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.

"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" Jackson asked. "I mean…he was a good protector. Really."

Chiron sighed while Chrysa scowled. She did not agree that Grover Underwood was a fit protector for anyone.

Chiron removed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horse's back like a saddle.

"Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him…"

"Or her," Chrysa cut in.

"Or her," Chiron agreed, "safely to Half-Blood Hill."

"But he did that!" the boy exclaimed.

"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there's the unfortunate…ah…fate of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."

The boy looked very guilty.

"He'll get a second chance, won't he?" Jackson asked in a small voice.

Chiron winced.

"I'm afraid that was Grover's second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He's still so small for his age…."

"How old is he?" the boy asked curiously.

"Oh, twenty-eight," Chiron said nonchalantly.

"What! And he's in the sixth grade?" Jackson demanded.

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."

"That's horrible," the boy said flatly.

"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career…"

"That's not fair," the boy objected. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

Before Chiron could answer, Chrysa cut in.

"You can bet it was 'so bad'," she nearly growled. "And neither Father nor I have forgotten it. My little sister died because of Grover Underwood, and none of us are particularly anxious to forgive him."

"Someone…died?" Percy asked quietly.

Chrysa sighed, then began to explain.

"My little sister. Thalia. She wasn't supposed to exist – neither of us are – but there are…extenuating circumstances with me that protect me from any repercussions. Thalia wasn't so lucky. Your little satyr friend found Thalia and the two demigods she was traveling with and tried to get them back to Camp. The thing was, his orders were to bring Thalia and only Thalia. Thalia wouldn't leave her friends though, so they all moved towards Camp Half-Blood together. Your little satyr friend didn't think to call for backup, so by the time anyone knew something was wrong, they had half the monsters of the Underworld on their tails. They were almost to camp, on the border actually."

She turned and pointed to the tall pine tree atop Half-Blood Hill.

"Thalia told her friends to go on without her. Grover Underwood brought the other two demigods into camp, while Thalia made her last stand – alone – atop Half-Blood Hill. Father had pity on her as she was about to die, and turned her into a pine tree in order to protect her. Her life force powers the wards around camp to this day," Chrysa said grimly.

The boy was silent for a moment, before asking, "Who…who is your father?"

Chrysa smiled somewhat nastily at him. "Why, you've heard his name already today. My father is Zeus, Lord of the Skies and King of the Gods. And the Lord of Olympus is not happy about what happened to his youngest daughter. Neither am I. Your satyr friend was this close," she said, holding her fingers a millimeter apart, "to be deep-fried goat. This close. And he and the Council of Cloven Elders both know it. The chances of him getting a third try…well, let's just say it'll happen around the same time that Sisyphus gets that rock to the top of the hill."

"Why don't we go see the woods?" Chiron said, pushing them back to lighter conversation. Chiron continued his tour-guide speech.

"The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed."

"Stocked with what?" Jackson asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?"

"Chiron, he's known about this for an entire half-hour, of course he doesn't have his own sword and shield," Chrysa snorted.

"Right. I think I size five will do. I'll visit the armory later."

The tour continued to the archery range, the canoe lake, the stables, the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the sword-fighting arena.

"Sword and spear fights?" the boy asked.

"Cabin challenges and all that," Chiron explained. "Not lethal. Usually. For the most part, this is where you'll find Chrysa, when she's here. She likes to referee the matches, and she teaches lessons as well. Oh, yes, and there's the mess hall."

Chiron pointed to the dining pavilion.

"What do you do when it rains?" Jackson asked.

Chiron and Chrysa both gave him weird looks.

"We still have to eat, don't we?" Chiron said.

Finally, they made it to the cabins. At the central firepit was a young girl tending the flames. Chrysa knew it was Hestia, and resolved to speak with her later.

The boy pointed to Cabins One and Two.

"Zeus and Hera?" he asked.

"Correct," Chiron said.

"Their cabins look empty," the boy pointed out.

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in cabin two, and Chrysa is the only person who stays in cabin one. And she is not always there."

Jackson stopped in front of Cabin Three – Poseidon's cabin – and peered inside.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that!" Chiron said. He pulled the boy back, saying, "Come along, Percy."

Chrysa raised an eyebrow at the display. If that wasn't a hint to the boy's heritage, she didn't know what was."

As they passed Cabin Five, Clarisse LaRue seemed to zero in on Jackson, though Chrysa's warning look seemed to scare her off slightly. The girl was a year-round camper and knew exactly what she was capable of.

"We haven't seen any other centaurs," Jackson pointed out.

"No," Chiron said sadly. "My kinsmen are a wild and barbaric folk, I'm afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won't see any here."

"You said your name was Chiron. Are you really…" the boy trailed off.

Chiron smiled down at him.

"The Chiron from the stories. Trainer of Heracles and all that? Yes, Percy, I am."

"But, shouldn't you be dead?"

Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him, but Chrysa knew the real reason why he was still alive. She had been present at his birth, after all.

"I honestly don't know about should be. The truth is, I can't be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish…and I gave up much. But I'm still here, so I can only assume I'm still needed."

"Doesn't it ever get boring?" Jackson asked.

"No, no," Chiron replied with a shake of his head. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring."

"Why depressing?" the boy asked.

Chrysa rolled her eyes. He hadn't caught on yet.

"Oh, look," he said. "Annabeth is waiting for us."

They continued on to cabin eleven, where Annabeth was reading an architecture book.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have a masters' archery class at noon, and I believe Chrysa also has someplace to be. Would you take Percy from here?"

"Yes, sir," Annabeth replied.

"Cabin eleven," Chiron told the boy, gesturing towards it. "Make yourself at home."

He turned and galloped off towards the archery fields.

Chrysa checked her watch.

"He was right. I do have someplace to be. I'll talk to you later, Annabeth, Percy. I'll probably see you in the sword arena, actually. Cabin eleven has a lesson the day after tomorrow, and Luke's asked me to help out."

She turned around a jogged back to cabin one, so she could Iris-message her father and beloved in peace.

AN: After the random, somewhat rushed updating of the prologues and first two chapters, I've now decided to update on Sundays. Hopefully, this will give me enough time to actually get through the chapter I'm stuck on (it's chapter thirteen) before we get to that point so I can keep up that schedule.