AN: Listen, I don't know what's going on any better than you guys. I just close my eyes and when I come to there's a brand new chapter fresh off the oven and then we just HAVE to post it. That can be allowed, right?

AtW: Maybe if you shower us with more money we'll post more and more and more. Who knows? lol. Still, output is gonna slow down a bit and our rebound is done for now. Next comes the commissions and I'm gonna have to do college things again, annoying right?

Anyways, enjoy the show!

Heracleidae - Origins III

Harry James Potter

Apparently, fighting a mountain troll barehanded and later finding out you were a demigod weren't excuses to skip class. Having eaten ambrosia, his body was back to full health, even if there was still some stiffness when he moved.

Madame Pomfrey, of course, had deemed that good enough to release him from the infirmary without further treatment - conditional on the fact that he did nothing else to earn another visit. Even if she'd let him go back to… the dorms, the old woman had politely impressed upon him that magic couldn't fix death. And Professor Snape… well… he probably would have made Harry attend classes even if he hadn't eaten ambrosia. Never mind the chewing out he'd gotten for sleeping in a girl's bedroom.

He was starting to think the man might have something against him.

Classes the next day went about as usual.

Transfiguration was hard.

Like, a lot of practical work and heaps of homework that required him to use both reference texts and ask Gemma what certain words meant hard.

Potions were still a slog to get through without any help from his head of house. So long as Harry partnered up with one of the students from his house, the teacher would leave him alone though the same couldn't be said for the Gryffindors - who he constantly hounded while in class.

Hermione had also been present but they didn't find the time to talk.

That was a sure fire way to losing points.

If Harry lost points, Gemma was going to grill him over it.

Surprisingly, the class the young wizard seemed to like the most was History of Magic. Who'd guessed that there was so much to learn about this new world he found himself in, and that while the class was being taught by a literal ghost, the written material was interesting. Even better for him, it was the one subject that was similar to muggle school, meaning the tricks he'd picked up over the years let him actually work to Binns schedule!

So Harry was planning to excel at it. To give his all in a subject where he had the time to prepare and study and grasp the words and meanings they covered before having to memorize material for a test.

With that said, the best part was that he would finally be able to speak with Hermione!

Since everyone else was asleep or focused on taking their own notes, Harry managed to sneakily make his way to Hermione's desk at the front of the class, considered no man's land because of the teacher's droning, and sat comfortably next to her.

Only problem was….

"Good morning."

"Hey."

He didn't know what to say. And neither did she.

One part of the challenge was relatively simple. Hagrid was his first friend and Harry had ruined that relationship, even if he didn't know what he had done wrong. Hedwig was his second friend and she was brilliant, though she got a bit bossy if she thought he hadn't combed his hair enough, but she was an owl. And as far as he knew, most everyone else tolerated him.

The boys in his year never wanted to really spend time with him, even if they didn't pick on him anymore either, and Gemma was bril too but he was pretty sure that he bothered her too much as it was. Calling her a friend without her permission would just be wrong.

'Plus who would want to be friends with a freak like me unless I saved them.'

And wasn't that just another layer of complex feelings. Harry helped Hermione because it was the right thing, but he also felt good about it. Like he'd gotten lucky to show someone he was special. That he deserved the attention he wanted.

But that made him feel guilty.

Because Hermione got hurt because of the troll.

In a way it's like being happy that someone was in danger just because you got to be the one to save them. Harry… didn't know how to feel about that. He just wanted someone he could be friends with and talk to.

It was with that goal that he steeled his resolve, and not really knowing what the correct first move to make, went with the classic opener.

"How are you feeling?"

Practically mumbling at his textbook, Harry felt his cheeks burn a bit.

This was the first time he was talking to someone. Actually talking to someone who knew him and who he knew without worrying about how they might react. Harry felt he could be honest and try to be friends after all the trouble they went through.

Though Hermione probably only knew half of it.

Fighting the troll seemed like such a small thing now.

"I really should be the one asking you that. Also…." She blushed too. "I know you saved me and all, but it's Leivi-o-sa. Probably important you know that for when you save someone else."

Chuckling, he scratched his cheek.

"Really? Maybe that's why I couldn't quite stop your fall. I'm sorry about that by the way. If I paid more attention in class you probably wouldn't have had to hit the ground. It looked painful."

This seemed to offend the young woman across from him and Harry was a bit taken aback when she, rather vehemently, rejected his statement.

"When that… that… awful thing hit you I thought you were dead! I was so scared I couldn't do anything, not even fight back or go for my wand. I'm a witch and all I could do was cry and scream." Sniffling, the bushy haired girl seemed genuinely distraught. "And when you stood up, I saw your bones look all crumpled up. Like you were broken on the inside." Looking down herself, the fire went out of her. "That was when I fainted."

"So you don't know what I did to the troll?" Somehow, he wasn't sure whether that was good or bad. Like he was glad she didn't have to see anything else scary, but, at the same time, if she didn't see what he did, then maybe she wouldn't like him as much.

Shaking her head, the witch frowned.

"The Headmaster and Professor McGonnagal explained what happened to me."

"What exactly did they say?" Curious about what the adults would censor, the young man tilted his head. "And did they ever explain how the troll got inside in the first place?"

Hermione made to answer.

Only for her mouth to snap shut.

"Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry turned around, seeing the familiar head of greasy blonde hair of his kinda-sorta friend but more of a forced studying buddy, Draco Malfoy. The boy looked as he often did, displeased with something. Only for once it wasn't Harry he was looking offended at, but Hermione.

"Hullo Draco. Need help with the notes?"

His housemate blinked.

"Well, yes. Do you have any for Charms… wait… no! I'm not here for your bloody notes! I'm here because you are talking to her!" He pointed at his bushy haired friend candidate.

"Oh, you wanted to talk to Hermione too."

At this point Draco's face started doing that funny thing Uncle Vernon's normally did. Turning an unhealthy shade of red, borderline puce, as he tried to keep from screaming at Harry.

He had way more patience than his uncle.

"No, I bloody don't! Why are you talking to her?!"

Now it was Harry's turn to blink in confusion.

"What's wrong with speaking to her?"

"Because she's a Gryffindor and a mudblood at that."

Now, up to that point the conversation between this little trio of first years had been mostly private. The newness and shinyness of Harry bloody Potter had worn off a good bit and Hermione was both rather bossy and a muggle born - meaning she had non magical parents. To that end, she was boring and the young Slytherin was more the target of idle gossip than genuine fascination.

When Draco inserted himself into the discussion, those with a disposition towards drama had honed in on them.

When the blonde had spoken, he got a gasp from half the classroom.

"You take that back Malfoy!"

Ron Weasley, a rather impressively freckled redhead, had leapt to his feet.

"Or what, Weasel, you'll break your brother's wand at me?" Turning back to Harry, the blonde glared down at him. "Enough with the girl, Potter, you need to come sit with us again."

Professor Binns, being a ghost and stuck in the exact same loop day after day after day, simply continued to drone on.

"Why? And what was that word you called Hermione?"

Genuinely not understanding what was going on, Harry was mostly concerned with why his potential friend looked so sullen and beaten down.

"It was a really foul thing to call a muggle born. Not like you would care, Potter, lumping in with the slimy snakes!" Stomping over, the angry Weasley shoved out his hand towards the scared looking witch. "Come on girl! Come sit with us, no need to let the Slytherins pick on you!"

Swallowing, it almost looked like Hermione had totally withdrawn into herself. Like she had no idea what to do and Harry could even see what looked like panic boiling up within her. Not liking this at all, he moved to stand up and apologize to her when the brown, frizzy haired girl suddenly snapped.

"No, I will not Ronald. Harry has been nothing but wonderful to me and he's… he's my friend!" There was definite panic in her voice now and the young demigod was both elated and worried.

"Please, Malfoy, just let this go. I'm just talking to her."

Harry really had no idea what to do. Even Gemma had hammered it home that Slytherins stuck together. He didn't want to disappoint her. But, at the same time, Draco wasn't his friend and Hermione and just said she was.

"Besides, she's my friend, please just let this go."

That turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

"I knew you were a halfblood, Potter, but I didn't know you were a blood traitor too." An ugly sneer split the boy's face. "Maybe the Dark Lord should have gotten you that night too!"

"You rat! Take that back!"

Totally red in the face, Ron had his wand out and stepped back, holding it out in front of him.

"No! Why don't you try to make me Weasel!"

Crabbe and Goyle were backing up their boss, Harry making a note to ask what that was about later, and all three Slytherins had their wands out. However, two other Gryffindors had come over to back up their year mate. One of them had the same accent as Gemma, so was probably Irish, and the other was a darker skinned lad that the very confused Potter thought sounded like he might have come from East London.

"Ok you bloody ponce, eat slugs!"

What happened next happened very quickly and the positioning was very important.

Most of the class had relegated themselves to the rearmost rows of the classroom, with the Slytherins farthest from the door in the back left of the room and the Gryffindors sitting closest to it as they were spread out across the rightmost section. Hermione had been sitting right in front of Binns, who himself simply continued on to drone ahead as if absolutely nothing was going on, placing the girl dead center of the classroom and in the absolute middle of all the chairs.

Ron had been nearest the door and had been on the bottom rung, positioning him forward and to the right of the skirmish line. Draco had been sitting up in the highest tier and was, in fact, standing on the second tier right now.

When an ominous green glow began to gather at the tip of Ron's wand, Harry reached over and jerked Draco out of the way by the sleeve of his robes. This meant the spell soared right through where the boy had been standing and, instead, struck a random, still seated Slytherin. Draco's own wand loosed a pink charm that, having been knocked off balance, went wildly off into the mass of Gryffindor students.

For a second, no one said or did anything. And then one girl in red and gold trim cried out as her teeth began to grow uncontrollably and one boy in green and silver trim vomited a fat, wet slug onto his desk.

Harry let Malfoy go and instead grabbed Hermione, who grabbed their notes, and bundled her under their desks.

"And that brings us to the Goblin Revolution of 1837, when a misfired spell by a wizard caused a great incident which would later on… " Binns, as per usual, forged ahead.

And then all was chaos.

Rubeus Hagrid

Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwards, had a problem.

It wasn't a big problem.

Nor was it a small problem.

It was a medium problem, with just the right amount of trouble behind it to be an annoyance.

You see, as Keeper of the Grounds, it was Hagrid's responsibility to keep the livestock of Hogwarts and their fields well taken care of. Despite what some of the students thought of him, it was a hard job that occupied a great deal of time. Doubly so because it seemed like more and more students thought it was funny to run around the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night. Though even that paled in comparison to the sheer time cost of taking care of a particular security measure.

More so since Hagrid couldn't use his trusty umbrella to solve those issues.

'Not that it would help. Magic couldn't conjure up food from nuthin'.'

And therein lay Hagrid's problem.

See, he was a trusted friend of the Headmaster. And so didn't think twice when the man asked to borrow his trusty guard dog for a very special task. Hogwarts business. Very important and secret.

Guarding the…

'Shouldn't think about it. I shouldn't think about it.' He chided himself.

The problem didn't have to do with what Fluffy was guarding. But with Fluffy himself.

Little pup had a bad case of the muches. And the house elves at hogwarts couldn't handle it since the floor was forbidden. Meaning Hagrid had to wait until everyone was off to bed before bringing Fluffy's snacks. And a little something extra here and there to reward him for being such a good pup.

So, Hagrid would visit his pet every night.

Dragging large sacks of the boy's favorite snacks. A very large, very heavy sack that was currently sitting behind him as he tried to find the key Professor Dumbledore had given him to the charmed door.

Now where was it….

The half giant checked his pockets.

Uneaten snacks. Algernon, the friendly mouse who lived in his pockets. A key to the Hogwarts pantry, borrowed for the sake of his own late night snacks. A heavy pocket watch. Some loose change he found on the stairs.

But no key.

'Oh no, oh no, oh no….' Patting himself down frantically, the half giant was already in a panic. What would the headmaster think if he lost the key? Professor McGonnagal was going to give him an earful!

"Hagrid."

He was doomed!

Doomed.

"Hagrid."

He was gonna lose his job, his cabin, and be forced to live with his half-brother and his relatives! Bloody pureblood giants and their snooty height complexes, looking down on him because he had to carry one tree at a time!

"Hagrid!"

The ground shook as Hagrid jumped back in fright, a decidedly masculine yelp escaping him as he turned to look at the door he thought had been locked just a moment ago. And a familiar boy standing there looking up at him, innocently confused and with a hilt to his head.

"Is everything okay, Hagrid?"

Reaching out, he grabbed a handful of Harry bloody Potter's robes and yanked him out of the room Fluffy was currently… snacking on a cow's carcass in. Looking at the first year hanging from his grip, totally unmauled and only somewhat splattered with what he assumed was cow's blood, the half giant wasn't totally sure how to handle this particular situation. And not just because he had an undersized child hanging from his fist.

"What were yah doin' in the room with Fluffy?"

Eyes brightening, the eleven year old seemed to be inordinately happy.

"That's his name? Fluffy? Heh. He is very fluffy indeed!"

Pulling the boy closer, he took another look, trying to find any evidence of the horrific, destroyed body he should have been holding.

"You didn' answer my question. What were you doing in there?"

"I was bringing him a snack. Sometimes I wrestle with him too. The house elves are super nice and they always fix my clothes up and Fluffy does his best not to scratch me. Other than that, it's all good fun!"

Realizing that he was still holding a student like he was a disobedient house cat, Hagrid set the lad down and Harry held out his hand, a small key sparkling in it. Before the half breed could even ask where he got it, the lad immediately launched into the most simple and simultaneously embarrassing explanation.

"One day I was trying to find a shortcut an upper year told me about. But then I got lost, so I started looking around for a painting to ask for directions but the only one that spoke back was a bit… cracked. Then I found a key, it told me it would be funny if I put it in the door here, and I could hear something breathing on the other side. At first, I thought it would be a prank or something or maybe a dragon, since the school motto is about not tickling a sleeping dragon, and the Headmaster seems like he'd be the kind of cool teacher to actually have a sleeping dragon so I went in. Fluffy tried to eat me at first, then I popped his nose, and he's actually a lot nicer than ripper."

Hagrid reached down and took the key, sticking it into his pocket and watching as Harry shuffled a little to the side, blushing and looking away.

"Maybe I don't like dogs that much, but Fluffy is great."

Confused by the rambling explanation, but figuring that it actually sounded rather possible, he focused on what he thought was the most important part of all of that.

"You like dragons? And what was that about Ripper and not liking dogs?"

Lifting up the hem of one of his pants legs, the young man in front of him showed an old, faded scar. It was shaped exactly like a dog's bite mark and settled on the meat of his calf.

"The Dursleys actually took me to the hospital when they came outside." Shrugging, Harry dropped the pants leg back down. "He got me good though and I had to spend the night in the tree since I was too slow to make it to the shed."

Several horrified thoughts occurred to the grown man at once.

"You lived in a shed outside!?"

He was never the best at impulse control.

"No sir, I slept under the stairs in a cupboard."

At this statement, Hagrid knew he went through several unpleasant colors because Harry reached up and pulled his coat sleeve, looking up at him with concern.

"Tell you what lad, why don't we go see Fluffy. I've got some treats for him an' we can chat a bit more."

Right now he wanted to wring the neck of that fat walrus. He'd cursed the son for being a pig and given him a tail for his trouble, but that was a mild thing. And perhaps the only consequences the spoiled brat had faced in his life. But minor bouts of transfiguration aside, what kind of useless, abusive bully forced a child to sleep in a tree overnight because he'd been trapped like a fox hiding from hounds or shoved them in a cupboard! That was monstrous! The kind of madness that created an obscurial in the best of situations. At worst… well, that didn't bear thinking about.

"Here." The half breed held out a bag of cerberus treats, his own special recipe of course. "Normally I wouldn't wanna overfeed him, but we can spoil the lazy mutt tonight."

It was only after Harry had excitedly taken the bag that the groundskeeper realized that the sack was damn near as big as the boy, yet he carried it like it was nothing.

He still looked so small, Hagrid heard Pomfrey the day after the first years were sorted, raving and ranting about how underfed and small the boy was for his age. How she had to empty half her stash of ingredients to make all the potions he needed.

Hagrid felt guilty.

Guilty because he avoided the boy for months after the sorting.

How could he not? With his history when it came to Slytherins, Hagrid couldn't help but be suspicious of them. After what Tom did to him. To his life. Even these days he still remembered what it had been like, serving out his time in Azkaban after his expulsion.

The only time he'd been in the maximum security section had been the week before his trial, when his wand was snapped, but that had been enough that he still had nightmares. It was a miracle that Hagrid lived as good a life as he did now. But he shouldn't have taken it out on a wee lad too small for his own health.

He'd known the boy's parents, for gods sake.

"Listen, Harry." He started "Think you could keep Fluffy a secret? He's not been in the castle for long and I don' wanna him getting into trouble with the students."

The boy smiled and Hagrid felt that much worse.

"Sure! It'll be our little secret!"

Fluffy, for his part, was all smiles when they finally got to dragging the sacks of treats into the room. The big spoiled puppy was all too eager to get a reward after staying cramped all day with nothing but the few scarce toys Hagrid left him. Thankfully, at least, the room was big enough for the poor hound to walk around in and get comfortable and he was still happily chomping away and crunchin up the cow bones even now.

It was a thing of beauty, the way the lad didn't fear the big pup as he fed him. Laughing and chuckling as the cerberus licked and nosed him for more. Playfully grappling with the three snouts as if they'd known each other for years.

"Fluffy! Don't yank me. It isn't fair!"

One of which was playfully tugging on the back of his shirt while the other two pushed against his arms.

'He really wasn't lying about the wrestling part.'

Which was… strange. A cerberus as young as Fluffy wasn't as strong as an adult, but they couldn't hold back very well. Even when trained to act as guard dogs. Hagrid certainly didn't help it as one of the few people who could roughhouse with them like that.

It reminded him of his childhood.

Running around the forbidden forest, wrestling trolls, getting in trouble with Firenze and his herd.

Then why?

Why had the sorting hat put him in Slytherin?

Always such a somber bunch, fixated on getting something without caring about anyone else. The half giant couldn't see any of his classmates laughing while getting slobbered all over by a giant pup.

What did Harry want badly enough that the Hat thought he would fit there?

Hagrid didn't know.

But he wanted to find out.

He owed it to the lad he'd picked up from the wreckage of that house. The one he rescued from those horrible muggles. Maybe it would take some time to get used to it, but he was gonna do his best.

Harry James Potter

Grunting, he pushed back, driving his shield into the blow and setting his weight firmly.

Harry swiftly found this to have been a horrible decision as Hippolyta's foot kicked his ankle out, knocking him to the ground. Rolling to the side, he barely dodged the rim of her shield and then threw himself to his feet.

This was the second week of his "special training" and it still burned how casually she tore him apart. Even with his strength, there was nothing he could do to fight back!

"Dodge!"

Tucking his shoulder in, he forcefully leapt out of the way of a blast of fire. Hitting the ground, he rolled over himself several times, just to make sure any flames had been smothered, and then climbed back to his feet - scabbling in the dirt and grass of the patch of ground his instructor had requested from the Headmaster. Bringing his shield up, he watched as the flamethrower Hippolyta had conjured distorting into ash.

It was simplicity itself for the daughter of Ares to bring such tools of war into being and she felt it was vital he had experience in combating such things. Mostly he just wanted to know more about Ares and the rule was simple. Every minute of combat he survived, he got to ask another question.

He's also learned that staying permanently on the defensive was a surefire way to end up with a bullet wound that needed patching up with ambrosia.

Rearing his uninjured foot back, he kicked up a massive spray of dirt and debris, a simple enough trick he'd figured out from when she had used smoke grenades, and charged into the spray of cover.

When he suddenly went flying, some kind of explosive having knocked him about, he felt like he had that coming. It was the second time he'd used that particular trick, after all.

Laid out on his back, chest hurting and the wind knocked out of him, he looked up at the sun and groaned.

"Lesson number one, kiddo. The only time a trick works is if you kill someone with it."

"I thought lesson number one was to keep your eye on the enemy."

"They are all lesson number one. When you're out on quests, fighting for your life, you'll have to learn how to do all this stuff at the same time. Figuring out your opponent's strengths, a way to beat them, and then a plan to make it all work. Monsters don't fight fair, they'll gang up on you, stalk you until you're too tired to fight back. You need to make sure you always get out of the fight alive."

Their training wasn't just about Harry learning how to fight by getting trounced by the amazon. A good bit of it was him learning about his extended family, the olympians, as well as the many enemies he'd have to fight against if he wanted to keep living.

"Do all half-bloods get trained like this?"

The amazon snorted back a laugh.

"Well, I never went to Chiron's fancy little school so I couldn't tell you. I'm just training you the way my mom and dad trained me."

Her dad, the god of war.

Maybe he should have expected the bullets after all.

"Besides, we gotta get you into… reasonable fighting shape by the time I take you to your father."

And then there was that.

The amazon hadn't given up on her quest to take him out of Hogwarts. The Headmaster had simply delayed her until 'such a time that he could ascertain the truth'. Or whatever that meant. So, until he was done investigating and letting the other people in the know about the divine side of the world about what happened, Harry wasn't leaving.

Hipolyta had taken that as her cue to start training him.

One thing led to another.

And now he was dodging flamethrowers.

"Come on kiddo. Up and at it."

She tossed him the same tiny cube of ambrosia she gave him every fight and he ate it like he did every time. Soon enough, with muddy clothes but a refreshed body, he clambered to his feat. Hippolyta snapped her fingers again and both his shield and the sword he had yet to successfully use once disappeared, only for the weight of the training bow to settle in his fingers.

"Are we seeing the centaurs again?"

"Indeed." Hippolyta nodded. "They are excellent archers and it is good for you to be around other Greeks." Here she frowned for a moment. "Even if, as a Heracleidae, you aren't actually a Greek. In fact, your kinsmen the Spartans would have most vociferously objected to that idea. So would some of the Scythians, the Phoenician princes and kings descended from your father, and the Canaanites too. Hell, even the Gauls and the Celts and the Iberians worshipped him too when the Latins yet ruled the world."

Frowning, he opened his mouth only for her to hold up a finger.

"You lasted two minutes this time. That means you get two questions. And nothing too vague either."

Harry nodded.

"Yes ma'am. So, if I'm not a Greek, what am I?"

Shrugging, the ancient woman expressed her lack of concern.

"Your father's son. From the Hindu Kush to even these isles, you are his child. Even if he might be a bit different, should you meet him in his guise as a Persian or as an Egyptian or even see him as how the Athenians worshipped him instead of how the Spartans or Thebans or Ionians worshipped him or more. Most of the modern world forgets that the gods have many names and many titles. I will teach all of them to you in time. Of all the gods of your father's kin and all those whom he opposed and all the others of your land that I know of."

By now they were deep into the forbidden forest and the light was growing darker. Harry didn't mind that or even the dinner plate sized spiders that scuttled about.

Rather, it was the small horse sized spiders he saw in the branches above them that gave him pause.

"Um, teacher?"

"You have one question left."

Swallowing at her words, the wizard forged ahead.

"May I have a quiver of arrows or my wand or a flamethrower?"

A heavy weight appeared at his waist, with a thick bundle of shafts gathered in a bundle. Drawing one, he put the shaft to string but didn't draw the bow quite yet.

He remembered the headmaster's warning about the forest being a place of terrible death. Even Hagrid had cautioned him to not wander in, as they had all kinds of nasty creatures lurking around. Hippolyta, however, had told him that there was another reason why students shouldn't go inside.

The land wasn't theirs.

Humans, that is.

Hogwarts was neutral ground, but that didn't mean that only wizards and witches were there. In fact, the centaurs technically ruled the forest for the most part, and only gave ground when the odd giant or powerful creature took residence.

If students just came running they might stumble into something they shouldn't or get spirited away by a mischievous fairy.

Apparently those existed too.

"The centaurs are forgiving for the most part. They will give warnings and scare away intruders, but not harm them otherwise."

"Not when they are repeat offenders, your highness."

Harry grinned as a familiar figure trotted along to meet with them.

"Hullo, Firenze."

"Greetings Harry Potter."

The centaur was tall, with his lower half being a deep chestnut brown, Harry barely reached up to the man's waist and that wasn't taking into account his upper human half. A man in his late twenties, with a mane of wild hair which flowed behind him and eyes of a strange glowing blue and shining silver hair that reminded Harry of the moon.

Turns out he was nearing his two hundredth birthday soon.

"How is everything?"

"Mars is waning, so I suppose 'everything' is well."

Hippolyta made a noise of disapproval.

"Try not confuse the boy, Centaur. His father may not have a counterpart, but we would rather avoid… unpleasant encounters."

If Firenze cared for the scolding, he certainly didn't look like it.

"Of course, I'll practice vigilance. It is after all, a great honor to have a hand in guiding the son of the Great Hero."

Harry was a bit frustrated after that, with how they started using words that wren't Latin or Greek or English, but some kind of weird magical dog latin that just… made him annoyed.

So he focused on the stars instead. The grove where they had ended up was wide and broad with a clear, well trod floor and a branching canopy that sported a convenient hole. Settling into the moonlight, he watched the twinkling constellations above shine brighter for a moment. And, once again, he thumbed his arrow again and kept a watch on the very hungry looking spider on the edge of the clearing.

It was quiet then.

Just him and the night's sky.

Eventually that moment was broken, made all the more poignant by its fleetingness, as the thunder of hooves announced the arrival of the rest of the class.

A collection of colors and shapes and sizes, about twenty centaurs charged their way past the border of the clearing and, whooping and hollering, drove off any of the vermin that might have been lingering in the area. With the team tampeding close to him, the eleven year old watched in curiosity as the warriors carried javelins and spears and bows of their own, sending darts out at anything that dared to linger. Scraping some mud off of his face, he climbed to his feet and greeted the approaching group of foals.

"Hey guys."

"Hello Harry."

"Hullo!"

"Evening, two legger."

"You're still letting them do that to you? If one of them clips you it'll cost him his warrior's braid."

They were kids, though "kid" in this situation referred to fifty year olds who were only just now starting to reach the phase of life where vague, cryptic nonsense was considered an appropriate use of the Queen's tongue.

The first was Elder, an amusing name from a human perspective, but named because his mother had birthed him under an elder tree from which he had also inherited his coloration - skin as pale as the flowers and hair as shiny and black as the berries. Young, at only thirty four, he still towered over Harry himself, even if he was roughly seen a bit like a sixteen year old was to a human. Only he of the group carried visible weapons, those being a bow, a quiver, and a knife tied about his waist.

Second was Venetia, fiery and with red hair and kind blue eyes. She was roughly older than Harry, though perhaps viewed as younger than Elder, and she was always the most pleased to greet him. Her fair skin, he thought, must surely have burned should she have left the cover of the trees, though the Forest most likely did an excellent job shielding her.

Finally was the youngest, Bromson, of the second type of centaur. While the first two were of the common, human halved race, he was of the more bestial kind. Sporting a pair of curled rams horns peeking through a mop of curly hair, his chestnut brown skin and intelligent olive eyes belied the fact he was all of twelve years old.

"Are you here to watch with us again?"

Bromson's words were soft, as they always were, and Harry smiled and nodded.

"If you'd have me."

"Only if you'll tell us more of your human stories!" Venetia trotted forward and the young wizard smothered his usual blush far more easily than he once had. After all, no centaurs bothered with covering their nakedness except for battle. "The first time you told us about the ghost teacher, but surely you've got something even better, yes?"

Smirking, Harry couldn't help the surge of pride that welled up inside of him.

"What if I told you I got to play with a Cerberus puppy!"

Elder's eyes went wide.

"You mean the pup is still somewhere on the castle's ground!" Swallowing the oldest of the youths stepped back. "I mean, sure, if you don't mind."

Giggling, Harry shook his head.

"You mentioned you were studying the creatures of the forest last time. I figured you'd want to meet him, but I asked Hagrid and he said he'd have to ask the Headmaster who said he'd ask your teacher."

"Aye." Firenze trotted over to them. "And only if the Lady Athena's wisdom shines down upon Lady Artemis's rays, shall you be able to meet the Guardian of Hades before your time."

Bromson leaned over to him.

"He means if we do well on our next quiz he'll ask if we can come visit the cerberus pup in the castle."

Snorting, the youngster shook their head, commiserating that, indeed, adults of all kinds were silly.

After all, the chance to meet a giant three headed dog was the kind of trouble any normal kid would be willing to risk death or worse just to pet once. …Right?