Death was no stranger to the Dark Lord. It was his father's kingdom after all. Yet this was the first time he had visited the Underworld without a body. Seething with anger, he vowed to seek out his nearest Horcrux and return to physical form as soon as possible. It was unacceptable that he was left as only a spirit incapable of performing magic by a mere child! He needed to prepare for his next encounter with Harry Potter. Things had not gone according to plan, and the Dark Lord wanted revenge. Nothing escaped the Prince of the Underworld's grasp for long. Harry Potter would soon take a permanent visit to the Underworld if the Dark Lord had anything to say about it.
-oO0o0Oo-
They hesitated in giving the child any nectar, as they didn't know his parentage, and no one had been given the food of the gods at such a young age. A child of Athena had pointed out that the barrier repelled any mortals, and since the baby showed no signs of stress from being inside the camp, they could assume that he was powerful enough to ingest the nectar. As for his age, nectar was meant to heal, and mortal methods of aid had failed to affect the horrific wound upon his head, so the least they could do was try. With reluctance, and a small amount of anticipation, Chiron decided to administer the nectar himself, with Dionysus close by just in case. Although Dionysus' powers were mostly to do with wine, he could make plants grow, and that was a form of healing. At the very least, a god nearby couldn't hurt.
Dionysus had been remarkably reluctant in approaching the baby until now, even more so than usual. He despised the campers, but was usually less gruff to the younger ones. Despite his rough exterior, Dionysus had a soft spot and could be kinder than anyone expected. However, he had stayed far away from Harry, muttering "It's not right" and "Is this some kind of punishment, father?" whilst pacing back and forth agitatedly. Dionysus grumbled when Chiron called him over, he didn't like to be ordered around, but he couldn't let a camper be hurt in his camp. His father would be sure to punish him for it.
Chiron held the flask of nectar above the baby, who reached out with his pudgy fingers and tried to grasp the golden liquid. Chiron couldn't help but smile as the baby let out a giggle when he tickled him under the chin.
"You ready, Dionysus?" Chiron asked to the figure standing in the corner. Dionysus looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here in this room.
"You know names have power, stop calling me that! The last thing we need is another monster breaching our defenses," Dionysus grumbled, reluctantly moving closer to the bed.
"I don't think the man was a monster. I could smell no scent of the underworld on him, only old books and lemon drops" Chiron replied "Anyways, the longer this baby has this thing on his head, the worst it will be for him. Already he looks more pale then when he first arrived." And it was true, the wound stood out more viciously now, and his grasps at the bottle were more and more feeble. "We had better administer this nectar quick, if we are to administer it at all." Dionysus muttered something under his breath, but held up no arguments. Satisfied, Chiron began to spoon the shimmering viscous liquid into the baby's mouth.
What happened next no one could explain. A sudden gust of wind filled the Big House, tugging the bottle from Chiron's hands and pouring the entire bottle of nectar into the baby's mouth, a dose that would have burned up even a fully grown demigod. With a sound like a bell, the bottle fell to the ground and shattered into a million deadly pieces, glittering like diamonds. No one noticed, all averting their heads from what they knew would occur. It wasn't the first time someone had overdosed on the nectar, and no one liked seeing anyone burn up from the inside a second time.
"Ah well," Dionysus sighed, inwardly relieved that he wouldn't have to spend time with the kid any longer. Something just seemed off about him. "At least we tried. What happened with that bottle any way?" He asked, turning to Chiron. Chiron didn't answer. He was starring, eyes wide, mouth agape, at the baby. The mark upon Harry's head was glowing, brighter and brighter until it expelled dark thing from the scar. Dionysus immediately snapped his fingers, turned the monster into a can of Diet Coke, opened it, and casually took a sip.
"What?" He asked, to the onlookers. Only then did he realized that they weren't staring at him.
The lightning mark had reappeared on Harry's palms, glowing gold, his forehead perfectly unmarred. The glow spread from his hands until it covered the rest of his body as the nectar flowed through his veins, searching for something to heal. Pausing on his eyes, the nectar corrected what would have made him short sighted in the future, and moved on. Finding no other wounds, with a flash, the glow was gone. And Harry opened his eyes, his irises, once a pure emerald green, now flecked with gold.
For a moment everyone stood in silence. Then Dionysus strode forward, and placed an index finger on the infant's head. Where his finger came in contact with the baby's forehead, the skin glowed a soft gold.
"I can feel it," he said, shocked, "The nectar, still in his blood stream, and not going away."
"He doesn't seem to have had any adverse effects" Chiron replied, checking the baby's pulse, "He must be very powerful to have survived. I suppose it should have come as no surprise, for it is the second impossible thing to have happened today in regards to him. We will have to wait and see what effects he has for having nectar in his system long term, but at this point I doubt it will be anything harmful. This baby must truly be destined for great things to be blest by the gods in this way."
Lighting flashed outside and thunder boomed, as if Zeus was agreeing with Chiron's statement, or Dionysus had summoned another goblet of wine by "accident". Dionysus really did need something stronger than a Diet Coke. In all of his thousands of years of existing, he had never seen something like this. Only Heracles could be listed as having performed greater feats as an infant, and Heracles had lead a hard and painful life. All too often, "destined for great things" meant "destined to die a painful death whilst on a difficult quest". He could only hope that for once a god's blessing did not mean this baby's early death. For all his prior misgiving's, if this baby had survived ingesting the god's food, and Zeus had not decided to smite him as punishment, this baby may be better than what he had first thought. He might even learn it's proper name for once.
-oO0o0Oo-
Sybill Trelawny stirred, awakened from her deep sleep. As she became fully awake, she felt as if the world was shifting around her, causing her to have a strong case of vertigo. Grasping the bedside table, she placed her heavy glasses on the bridge of her nose, which made the sensation a little more bearable. At least all the fuzzy edges around the objects scattered about her bedroom had gone away. This wasn't the first time she had felt this way, being a seer she was more susceptible to changes in the timeline of the universe, but she had never felt it with this much intensity. With a sigh, she placed her glasses back on the bedside table and waited for the sensation to pass, so she could return to her sleep.
She would have been unable to return to her sleep if she knew that seers, prophets, oracles, and those easily susceptible to the chaos of the universe were all over the globe feeling the exact same sensation. Dumbledore was one of those people. If you lived to be that age, you began to notice patterns in human behaviors and societies, and could, with some uncertainty, predict what happened next. There was no doubt about it, the train of the universe had diverged or even jumped off the tracks. Someone, somewhere, had decided on an entirely new path for themselves, and was dragging the rest of the universe along with it. Dumbledore picked up his book, relit the candle that had sputtered out, and continued to read. He would have abandoned his precious book in a heartbeat if he knew that that someone was an infant, with marks of lightning on his palms, with a name of Harry Potter. He would have known, with absolute certainty, that his plans for the boy were destined to fail. Alas, he would have to discover that for himself, after 11 years had come to pass.
On the other side of the ocean, a mummy long dead resting in an attic opened her mouth and spewed forth green mist with a sound of hissing snakes.
-oO0o0Oo-
Harry Potter slept soundly. He did not care what the gods had planned for him. He did not know that he had made a mess of the Fates carefully measured string. He did not realize the great dangers that lay in store for him. He simply turned over, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and continued to sleep.
-oO0o0Oo-
AN:
All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan.
Another filler chapter, but we should be getting close to the action.
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