Hermione:

I spent a majority of the holidays researching greek mythology. I knew something was wrong with these wizards. I was fairly sure they weren't Death Eaters, but I knew there was something odd about them. They seemed more comfortable with a sword than a wand, but their magical talents were also amazing. There was no explanation to this predicament. One of the only real sketchy thing that I heard just before the holidays, was them intimidating Draco Malfoy. They kept saying that their fathers were more powerful than his would ever be. This confused me. They already said that their parents were dead. The dilemma reminded me of a demigod's. Their parents were supposedly dead, but were really gods and were alive. But demigods would never be the answer to this problem. I would still have to keep looking. I spent hours everyday, combing through every known greek myth and story, trying to find some more connections. But after days of study, the only connection I could find was that they shared similar qualities of ancient demigods.

The only conclusion I would come to would be that they were demigods. But the prospect of that was ridiculous. I was struggling to find out what their secret was. However, we were back at school, and with our OWLs drawing nearer, the teachers gave us mountains of homework and revision, even I was sometimes struggling to keep up. The Americans, Harry and Ron were also struggling, barely keeping up. Harry had his Occlumency lessons, but for some inexplicable reason, the Americans didn't even though they had the exact same dream as him. I wondered what was up with that.

Yesterday, something weird happened with Harry. He said that his scar started hurting like mad, and described the feeling that Voldemort experienced, as happy. Today, we found out what it was. I walked down to the Great Hall with Harry and Ron, while the Americans were conversing in hushed tones behind us. The post arrived on schedule and I unfurled my Daily Prophet to see if anything interesting was there, perhaps even a clue as to why Voldemort was so happy yesterday. I looked on the front page and stifled a yelp.

"Oh my god! Everyone, you need to see this." I said. All nine of them peered over my shoulder and their faces paled.

Ten black-and-white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, nine showing wizards' faces and the tenth, a witch's. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

Antonin Dolohov, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at me, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett. I could see the rest of them sweeping the paper, their faces and eyes full of surprise, and fear.

Algernon Rookwood, said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He Who Must Not Be Named.

But almost everyone's eyes were drawn to the picture of the witch. Her face had leapt out at him the moment he had seen the page. She had long, dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly in the picture, though he had seen it sleek, thick and shining. She glared up at him through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. Like Sirius, she retained vestiges of great good looks, but something-perhaps Azkaban-had taken most of her beauty.

Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

I nudged Harry and pointed at the headline over the pictures, which Harry, concentrating on Bellatrix, had not yet read.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN

MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS 'RALLYING POINT'

FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

'Black?' said Harry loudly. 'Not-?'

'Shhh!' I desperately. 'Not so loud-just read it!'

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.

'We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped,'said Fudge last night.'Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.'

'There you are, Harry,' said Ron, looking awestruck. 'That's why he was happy last night.'

'I don't believe this,' snarled Harry, 'Fudge is blaming the breakout on Sirius?'

'What other options does he have?' I said bitterly. 'He can hardly say, "Sorry, everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort"-stop whimpering,Ron-"and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out, too." I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?'

The Americans were talking about this in a foreign language. I had looked up some of the words and I thought that it was a mix between Greek and Latin. I couldn't really understand what they were saying, as I obviously didn't understand either of those languages. I instead, devoted my attention to reading the remainder of the newspaper, however, my mind kept darting back to the Azkaban breakout.

I glanced up at the staff table. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were deep in conversation, both looking extremely grave. Professor Sprout had the Prophet propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she was not noticing the gentle drip of egg yolk falling into her lap from her stationary spoon. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Professor Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once her pouchy toad's eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students. She scowled as she gulped down her food and every now and then she shot a malevolent glance up the table to where Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking so intently.

After a week, the atmosphere around the school was jittery and there was an aura of fear. It was almost the same as when Sirius Black escaped, everyone had obviously found out about the mass breakout from Azkaban. I also had a something planned out for Harry, to make the whole world realise the truth about Voldemort, and how he was actually back. I had just received confirmation about it yesterday, and since today was a Hogsmeade visit, we were going to meet Rita Skeeter, and she would do the rest. I walked down to the Great Hall. Everyone was sitting at the Gryffindor Table again. I walked up and pulled Harry away from them.

"Listen Harry. You need to be in the Three Broomsticks at noon. Please be there," I urged.

"I dunno. Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her.

"Well, bring her along if you must. Just make sure you are there Harry." I said

"Um. I mean, sure. But why do I need to be there?"

"I'll explain later." I said, taking a seat next to Leo and Ron. I gulped down my breakfast and got ready for Hogsmeade. Soon, too soon, I was lining up right in front of the great Oak Doors. Harry ran off to find Cho. Percy and Annabeth were cuddling and talking to each other. Jason and Piper were doing the same. Leo was talking with Ron, while Frank and Hazel were standing awkwardly next to me. Finally, Filch let us out into Hogsmeade.

Annabeth:

It was Valentine's Day and I was going into Hogsmeade with Percy! We were going to have so much fun on Valentine's Day, being the first one since I had got him back. We split up from the rest, clearly wanting to do our own thing. We wandered around Hogsmeade, arm in arm just enjoying each other's presence, warming each other from the bitter winter cold. We wandered into the Three Broomsticks, wanting to just talk about many things, and just be sorta lovey-dovey, for the first real time this year. Percy and I had a butterbeer, which warmed us up to the brim. We started talking about classes, and I was extremely surprised that he was actually paying attention in a few classes.

Last lesson Hagrid had shown us Pegasi, and Percy had got everything right, and began striking up a conversation with the pegasi. It was extremely funny, seeing as Umbridge, who loathed us was also surprised that Percy got any answers right. After having a butterbeer, we walked up to Honeydukes. We feasted on a wide assortment of wizarding sweets, that made my tongue tingle. It was a blissful experience. After spending about an hour tasting and buying everything that we deemed interesting, we hiked to the Shrieking Shack, which was supposedly haunted.

"Percy, do you really believe this is haunted?" I asked.

"Annabeth, we're literally in a school for magic. Also, we are literally demigods. There are ghosts in Hogwarts, it's probably haunted." Percy said. I was actually stunned how reasonable he was being.

"Still. I'm not going anywhere near that thing." I said, shivering. What was weird, was that there were three elderly woman staring at the shack. We stood next to them admiring them.

"Em, is this them?" The one on the far left said.

"Yes, Stheno! Keep a low profile," the one in the middle said. At this, Percy's eyes narrowed. Their voices sounded hoarse and raspy. I was suspicious, but I continued to stay silent

"Are you sure?" The one closed to us said.

"Shut Up and look inconspicuous Euryale." The far one said. One she said this name, Percy drew his sword. Riptide sprung into existence, and I followed his example. I drew my knife from the bead on my necklace.

"Oh, it's Em, Beano, and Euryale (I have no idea what Euryale's nickname is.) I thought that you lot would stay dead for a bit longer. I already killed you gorgons!" Percy snarled.

"Perseus Jackson. We aren't here to fight you, or your little girlfriend. We simply deliver a message from our new master," Medusa growled.

"He only wishes for you to surrender. Go back to America, and abandon this quest to protect Harry Potter. He will call off the assault, and leave Hogwarts alone. Simply surrender, and you will avoid much bloodshed."

At this, Percy looked conflicted. I knew what he was thinking. How can I simply surrender and let Voldemort kill my friend? But the other side of him would be thinking like, if I walk away, hundreds, maybe thousands of lives will be saved, but Harry may die. I saw the conflict in his eyes. I held onto his shoulder, which seemed to strengthen his resolve. I started to formulate a plan to kill the three gorgons. Medusa was the most dangerous, but thankfully she was the closest one to us, as they started changing positions. Then, we could distract Stheno, and kill Euryale, then proceed to Stheno. I nodded to Percy and he understood.

"Tell Voldemort, that I will never abandon this school. I will stay here and protect it!" The three gorgons sighed, as if they had been expecting this.

"Sorry Jackson. But that was the wrong answer. Now we have to kill you!" Medusa murmured. Percy leapt into action, he brought Riptide down in an arc, and before Medusa could move, Percy sliced her head clean off. The other Gorgons howled and came at us. Percy melted the ice around us, and summoned a huge wave to knock them off their feet. They both stumbled and Percy and I ran at Euryale. Stheno however, sank her long talons into my shoulder and I yelped out in pain. I spun around and jabbed at her with my knife, but she quickly backed up. I risked a glance over my shoulder, and saw Percy turning the water around Euryale's feet to ice, constantly giving him the advantage. However, Euryale kept slicing the air, keeping Percy on his toes as well. I slipped into a rhythm while fighting Stheno. Stab, dodge, roll, slice, stab, dodge, roll, slice. However her snakes in her hair occasionally tried to snap at my arm when I got a bit too close, thus sometimes disrupting me. Percy had summoned a ball of water to encase Euryale, and finally looked to be winning. He brought Riptide down in an almighty arc and impaled Euryale, who murmured something and dissolved into dust. Percy ran over to me immediately, and the two of us overpowered Stheno.

"Beano, tell your master, that no means no. I will not abandon this school, and I won't abandon my friends." He then thrust his sword through her chest. Right after that, he collapsed, I didn't realise that Percy had a multiple bad cuts on his shoulder, until he collapsed into my arms.

"Oh Percy, I've got some ambrosia here somewhere," I murmured softly, fishing around my pockets for the pack of ambrosia that I always kept, for emergencies. I stuffed the godly food down his throat and he wolfed it down. Colour returned to his face and relief spread across mine.

"Seaweed Brain, don't you dare scare me like that again," I scolded, Percy nodded weakly and we stood up, hiking back up to the main part of Hogsmeade.

Harry:

Talking about my experience with Voldemort, was not good. Especially with Rita Skeeter, whom I heartily disliked.Luna had said that my interview would appear in the next issue of the Quibbler. I couldn't wait.

FLASH FORWARD TO WHEN THE ARTICLE IS OUT.

I woke up in my dorm, and I was the last one up. I threw on my day robes and strolled leisurely down to the Great Hall. I was in a good mood but I didn't know why. I just had a happy gut feeling, that was inexplicable. I walked over and sat down at the Gryffindor Table, just as the post was coming. Turns out that about half the post owls came and dropped off packages in front of me. Almost everyone around me was mystified,

'What's going on?' Frank asked in amazement, as the whole of Gryffindor table leaned forwards to watch and another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, screeching, hooting and flapping their wings.

'Harry!' said Hermione breathlessly, plunging her hands into the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long, cylindrical package. 'I think I know what this means-open this one first!'

I ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightly furled copy of the March edition of The Quibbler. I unrolled it to see my own face grinning sheepishly at me from the front cover. In large red letters across this picture were the words:

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:

THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED

AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

'It's good, isn't it?' said Luna, who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself on to the bench between Leo and Ron. 'It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these,' she waved a hand at the assembled owls still scrabbling around on the table in front of us, 'are letters from readers.'

'That's what I thought,' said Hermione eagerly. 'Harry, d'you mind if we-?'

'Help yourself,' I said, feeling slightly bemused.

The Americans, Ron and Hermione started ripping open letters.

This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker,' said Percy, glancing down his letter. 'Ah well ...'

'This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's,' said Hermione, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.

'This one looks OK, though,' said Hazel slowly scanning a long letter from a witch in Paisley. 'Hey she says she believes you!'

'This one's in two minds,' said Jason, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. 'Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now. Blimey, what a waste of parchment.'

'Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!' said Piper excitedly. 'Having read your side of the story, I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly ... little though I want to think that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth ...Oh, this is wonderful!'

'Another one who thinks you're barking,' said Ron, throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder '... but this one says you've got her converted and she now thinks you're a real hero-she's put in a photograph, too-wow!'

'What is going on here?' said a falsely sweet, girlish voice.

I looked up with my hands full of envelopes. Professor Umbridge was standing behind Piper and Hazel, her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of us all. Behind her he saw many of the students watching them avidly.

'Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?' she asked slowly.

'Is that a crime now?' said Percy, loudly. 'Getting mail?'

'Be careful, Mr Jackson or I shall have to put you in detention,' said Umbridge. 'Well, Mr Potter?'

'People have written to me because I gave an interview,' I said. 'About what happened to me last June.'

For some reason he glanced up at the staff table as he said this. I had the strangest feeling that Dumbledore had been watching me a second before, but when I looked towards the Headmaster he seemed to be absorbed in conversation with Professor Flitwick.

'An interview?' repeated Umbridge, her voice thinner and higher than ever. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them,' I said. 'Here-'

And I threw the copy of The Quibbler to her. She caught it and stared down at the cover. Her pale, doughy face turned an ugly, patchy violet.

'When did you do this?' she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

'Last Hogsmeade weekend,' I said.

She looked up at him, incandescent with rage, the magazine shaking in her stubby fingers.

'There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter,' she whispered. 'How you dare ... how you could ...' She took a deep breath. 'I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions.'

She stalked away, clutching The Quibbler to her chest, the eyes of many students following her.

By mid-morning enormous signs had been put up all over the school, not just on house noticeboards, but in the corridors and classrooms too.

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Any student found in possession of the magazine

The Quibbler will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

For some reason, every time Hermione caught sight of one of these signs she beamed with pleasure.

'What exactly are you so happy about?' I asked her.

'Oh, Harry, don't you see?' Hermione breathed. 'If she could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read your interview, it was banning it!'

"By the end of the day, I had not seen one Quibbler around the whole school, but had heard multiple quotes all around the school, as if they all knew it by heart. Around the school, I was treated very well, perhaps it was caused by people randomly coming up and saying they believed me, just before they left, wringing my hand and stalking off. Or maybe the fact that there was a party in the Gryffindor Common Room. Or maybe the fact that Cho had come up to me, teary-eyed and apologized. However, it was just a relief to get away from all that attention. I crawled into bed and went to sleep. My scar prickling slightly.

Harry (Third Person)

He was standing in a dark, curtained room lit by a single branch of candles. His hands were clenched on the back of a chair in front of him. They were long-fingered and white as though they had not seen sunlight for years and looked like large, pale spiders agairst the dark velvet of the chair.

Beyond the chair, in a pool of light cast upon the floor by the candles, knelt a man in black robes.

'I have been badly advised, it seems,' said Harry, in a high, cold voice that pulsed with anger.

'Master, I crave your pardon,' croaked the man kneeling on the floor. The back of his head glimmered in the candlelight. He seemed to be trembling.

'I do not blame you, Rookwood,' said Harry in that cold, cruel voice.

He relinquished his grip on the chair and walked around it, closer to the man cowering on the floor, until he stood directly over him in the darkness, looking down from a far greater height than usual.

'You are sure of your facts, Rookwood?' asked Harry.

'Yes, My Lord, yes ... I used to work in the Department aftet-after all ...'

'Avery told me Bode would be able to remove it.'

'Bode could never have taken it, Master ... Bode would have known he could not ... undoubtedly, that is why he fought so hard against Malfoy's Imperius Curse ...'

'Stand up, Rookwood,' whispered Harry.

The kneeling man almost fell over in his haste to obey. His face was pockmarked; the scars were thrown into relief by the candlelight. He remained a little stooped when standing, as though halfway through a bow, and he darted terrified looks up at Harry's face.

'You have done well to tell me this,' said Harry. 'Very well ... I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems ... but no matter ... we begin again, from now. You have Lord Voldemort's gratitude, Rookwood ...'

'My Lord ... yes, My Lord,' gasped Rookwood, his voice hoarse with relief.

'I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me.'

'Of course, My Lord, of course ... anything ...'

'Very well ... you may go. Send Avery to me.'

Rookwood scurried backwards, bowing, and disappeared through a door.

Left alone in the dark room, Harry turned towards the wall. A cracked, age-spotted mirror hung on the wall in the shadows. Harry moved towards it. His reflection grew larger and clearer in the darkness ... a face whiter than a skull ... red eyes with slits for pupils ...

'NOOOOOOOOO!'

'What?' yelled a voice nearby.

Harry Hailed around madly, became entangled in the hangings and fell out of his bed. For a few seconds he did not know where he was; he was convinced he was about to see the white, skull-like lace looming at him out of the dark again, then very near to him Ron's voice spoke.

'Will you stop acting like a maniac so I can get you out of here!'

Ron wrenched the hangings apart and Harry stared up at him in the moonlight, flat on his back, his scar searing with pain. Ron looked as though he had just been getting ready for bed; one arm was out of his robes.

'Has someone been attacked again?' asked Ron, pulling Harry roughly to his feet. 'Is it Dad? Is it that snake?'

'No-everyone's fine-' gasped Harry, whose forehead felt as though it were on fire. 'Well ... Avery isn't ... he's in trouble ... he gave him the wrong information ... Voldemort's really angry ...'

Harry groaned and sank, shaking, on to his bed, rubbing his scar.

'But Rookwood's going to help him now ... he's on the right track again ...'

'What are you talking about?' said Ron, sounding scared. 'D'you mean ... did you just see You-Know-Who?'

'I was You-Know-Who,' said Harry, and he stretched out his hands in the darkness and held them up to his face, to check that they were no longer deathly white and long-fingered. 'He was with Rookwood, he's one of the Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban, remember? Rookwood's just told him Bode couldn't have done it.'

Little did Harry know that the demigods had the exact same dream, and more.

The plot thickens. Harry will continue seeing into Voldemort's mind, and soon, they will all find out about the seven's true identities. Hope you like the chapter. I will definitely appreciate a review, means a lot to me. We passed 7.5K Views, absolutely magnificent. I can't believe this. Anyways, this chapter had a lot of Harry Potter in it, sorry if the PJO characters weren't featured that much in this chapter. Hope that you all enjoy it.

~RedGods