Revised again, so PLEASE REREAD, I ADDED IMPORTANT DETAILS thanks ^_^

Raven's POV

I woke up the next morning right around the chime of seven-thirty. I groaned, thankful that I was excused from classes today. I realized my book had fallen to the floor. I picked it up, throwing it in my bag.

I yawned, slipped on my jacket and pulled my hood up. Shouldering my bag, I shadow-traveled to Diagon Alley. Dumbledore excused me from classed today, at least until I'd bought a wand and the necessary supplies that weren't already provided for me.

The alley was quiet; there weren't many people there.

I rubbed my forehead. The Shadow-travel made me even drowsier. I reached into my bag and pulled out my canteen of Nectar, taking a swig. Screwing the canteen's cap back on, I walked up to a sign that read: DIVALREOL'S. Damn my dyslexia to Tartarus. I thought.

After a few head-aching minutes of trying to read it, I finally asked a passing witch what it said.

"That's Ollivander's, that is." She said. "Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

"Thanks," I said, and she walked away.

I entered the store. I looked around, gazing at the seemingly endless walls of thin, long boxes.

"Ah, you've finally come," a voice behind me said. I turned, seeing a tall old man that I guessed was Ollivander.

He smiled at me, and then went to the desk to fetch a tape measure. "I remember the day your father bought your mother a replacement wand when hers was broken."

"You knew my dad?" I asked as he measured my right arm.

"Briefly. Good man. Dark, but with goodness in him. I'm sure you are the same."

I was beginning to like this guy.

He put away the tape measure, browsing the many thin boxes. He picked one seemingly at random. He opened it, handing the wand it contained to me.

"This one's made of elm, 11 inches, with a unicorn hair core. Wave it."

I'd barely moved it, and faster than I could see, he'd snatched it from my hand, muttering, "No, no, no, no, no."

He picked another wand, giving it to me.

"Pine, Dragon heartstring core, 10 ½ inches." This time, I swished it a little. Of course, nothing happened, but Ollivander still took it from me.

He pulled out a pitch-black, slender-looking one. It looked cool, but I decided not to get my hopes up. As he handed it to me, I felt a gust of warm wind blowing around me.

"Strange," Ollivander muttered.

"What?" I asked as the warm air diffused.

"This wand is made from yew wood, with a phoenix feather core, 14 inches long. It is very similar to a wand that chose a vile person, someone that your father especially feels hatred for. It is very powerful, in the right hands. And, like that wizard, I believe that you will do great things. Be careful."

"What was the name of that wizard?" I asked curiously.

"He was a terrible man who did terrible things. We fear to even speak his name, so he is referred to as You-Know-Who of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"You mean Voldemort?"

The old man recoiled so fast, I thought he was going into conniptions.

"Do not speak his name." he warned.

"Alright," I said, a little startled. I paid him seven Galleons, thanked him, and left after pocketing the wand.

Since everything else was already bought for me, I figured I'd just browse the alley.

I passed by a store (I couldn't read the name of it). Inside the window, I could see several robes of varying colors and several mirrors. I saw my reflection in one of them.

I looked as I normally did: skinny, pale, dressed in black with ragged hair in the same color. I sighed. So this is what the students would see me as. My appearance just screamed 'Be my friend!' …not.

"Dear!" said a woman at the door. I turned to her. "Can I help you, dear?"

"No, thank you, ma'am," I said. I took one last look at myself in the mirror and was about to leave when—

My eyes widened and I whirled around. I was in love. And I didn't even know what it was.

I moved to the window of the store across from the robe shop. I brought my face as close to the glass as I could. Just beyond it was a broomstick.

Since finding out I was a witch, my ADHD mind had developed a vision of myself on a broom with a black cat on the handle, cackling my head off. Yeah, the ADHD side of my mind is weird.

A young man poked his head out the door and cleared his throat. "You looking to buy it, or you looking to look at it?" he asked.

"You mind if I get a closer look at it?" I asked flatly, still staring at it

"Not at all, come right on in."

I was in that store faster than you can say 'sold'.

I gazed at its polished handle; in gold near the tip of the handle was written the word Firebolt.

As I gawked at it, the young man was describing it.

"It's called a Firebolt. It is made of the finest of ash wood and polished to a shine. The tail is composed of birch twigs, sleeked back for perfect aerodynamics. And you think zero to sixty is impressive with Muggle Automobiles? This beauty does zero to a hundred fifty in ten seconds flat!" he snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. "It also boasts an unbreakable Braking Charm, superb balance and precision, and hovers at a reasonable mounting height when you let it go. But, of course, being the best, it is highly expensive."

"How much?"

"167."

"Galleons?"

He nodded.

"Sold," I said, pulling out a bag of gold.

"Great! I'll bet you one from the back, with a case!" he said excitedly as I counted out coins that would no doubt end up being his paycheck.

I left with a brand-new Firebolt in my bag, locked in a hard case.

I went to the bookstore next. The lady at the front desk taught me how to translate anything written into a language I could read. Just by tapping my wand to it and thinking of Ancient Greek. Anyway, I bought a book on Standard Charms, Advanced Charms, Dark Charms, Dark Practices, and one on rainbow ponies.

Yeah, right, over my dead body (which wasn't very likely).

After a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, I Shadow-traveled back to Hogwarts. Everyone was in the Great Hall having lunch when I returned to the Common Room. I swigged some nectar, and then headed downstairs.

No one noticed me entering the Great Hall. I put together a plate; I took a seat at the far, empty end of the Gryffindor table.

'Oh, my gods, this is much better than McDonalds,' I thought to myself. Taking another bite, I added, 'but not BK. Never BK.'

My lunch was interrupted when a bespectacled, black-haired boy sat across from me. I furrowed my brow.

"Hello!" he said brightly, holding out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Harry Potter."

I shook his hand. "My name's Raven."

"You're new, aren't you," he said, gathering a spoonful of his buttered corn.

"Yeah, I am. Transferred from America." It wasn't too big of a lie.

"Cool. What's your family like?" he asked casually.

"I live with my dad in Los Angeles. My mother's dead."

"My parents were murdered when I was a baby." Harry said, sadly.

"Harsh."

He nodded. "That's when I got this." He pulled up his bangs, revealing a lightning-bolt-shaped scar.

"Whoa," I said, intrigued by it. I felt a tugging at my stomach, a feeling I knew all too well.

"Something dark happened here." I muttered. I returned to my lunch, and the feeling receded.

"How do you mean that?" Harry asked, letting his hair fall over his brow.

I shook my head. "It's hard to explain. I'm just…different."

He nodded. "You and me both."

I smiled, taking a bite out of my chicken leg.

"I really hope we can be friends,"

My head shot up at this remark.I felt like an alien on a strange world, wondering if this was normal behavior.

"Why would you want to be friends with me?" I inquired.

"You seem nice. And it's nice to have a friend that doesn't smother me asking me for my autograph, or recognizes me by my scar."

I considered this. "Sounds cool." I said.

I went up to the Common Room to get my books together. I pulled out the schedule Dumbledore gave me, tapping it with my wand. The jumble of letters changed into ancient symbols. I tried to commit my schedule to memory, which was hard to do with my ADHD mind.

I shouldered my bag, glancing at the next class I had. Potions. Didn't seem too bad.

I went ahead and made my way to the Dungeons, using a simple map that Dumbledore provided. When I found the right room, I realized that the room was locked and probably wouldn't be opened until class began.

Everyone else was still eating. I shrugged. What did I care? I simply found the darkest corner nearby, pulled my hood up, and sat down.

Harry's POV

Although my conversation with Raven didn't go quite as I'd planned, at least I made conversation.

I could definitely tell that there was something she wasn't telling me. That she was hiding something.

I had potions next (not really something I was in the mood for). I gathered my books and headed toward Snape's classroom.

Raven was already there, sitting in a dark corner. I mean, there were other students there, but it was clear she had been there the longest.

Everybody kept a ten-foot berth around her. No wonder: Gryffindor had class with Hufflepuff; The Gryffindors were wary of her while the Hufflepuffs were just right-out afraid of her.

Once class began, she took a seat in the back of the room. I sat next to her, and Ron sat next to me.

Ron gave me a look that said 'Are you mental?'

I elbowed his ribs.

During Potions, she and I talked more. Even Ron got to know her a little.

After Potions was Charms. I didn't see her until i actually got there. Again, she sat from everyone.

Transfiguration was next; same situation.

At dinner, she sat alone again. I sat across from her, and this time, Ron and Hermione joined me.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, reluctantly shaking her ice-cold hand.

After a few moments of talking and eating, an owl screeched and flew into the Great Hall in great circles, dodging the floating candles. I stared at it; it was late for mail to be arriving.

"Whose is that?"

Raven's POV

Oh, my gods, this is the BEST coconut cream pie EVER! Take THAT Aunt Demeter! I thought as I shoved small bits of pie into my mouth.

"Whose is that?" Harry wondered out loud.

I followed his gaze to see a perfectly black owl gliding into the Hall, swooping down and landing in front of me.

"I guess it's mine." I said, answering Harry's question.

I took the letter that was clamped in its beak, opening it.

It was from my dad.

Raven, it began in Ancient Greek,

It has been brought to my attention that you will not always have the opportunity to send me Iris-messages. As such, I have given you this owl, one of my own creation. She can Shadow-travel and can send letters between us or any other mortal friends you may make—I looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione—I wish you well, and I hope to hear from you soon.

He signed it at the bottom with a symbol that looked like a triangle with a straight vertical line and a perfect circle in the middle. It had always been his signature, but I never knew why and I didn't feel like asking.

"What's her name?" Hermione asked, looking at my new owl.

"I haven't named her yet."

"Well, why don't you name her?" Harry suggested.

I set down the letter in my hand, looking at my owl. She had such sleek black wings, dangerous-looking black talons, and mesmerizing red and black eyes. I thought carefully. 'Nightmare' was ruled out; that was my sword's name.

"I'll name her… Shade." I said, lightly stroking her feathers.

Harry picked up the letter. "What language is this in?" he questioned.

"Ancient Greek." I said simply.

"Why ancient Greek?" Ron asked, looking over Harry's shoulder to attempt to read it.

"I can't read English, I'm dyslexic."

"And whoever wrote this knows it too?"

"Yeah, my dad."

"Oh," Harry said. "I see," he handed me back the letter.

Over the next few weeks, I grew closer to Harry, Ron, and even Hermione. I opened a small gap in the wall that closed me off from the rest of the world. But I never told them my biggest secret.

One late night, I was stoking the Common Room fire when Shade shadow-traveled into the room. She circled the room once, screeching. She landed on the arm of the couch. I stood, taking the letter from her beak. It felt heavy, and I could feel something inside the envelope. I opened the envelope and a golden drachma slid into my hand.

I unfolded the letter; it was a note from my dad.

Do not think that school will excuse you from our monthly progression presentations. Shadow-travel into the forbidden forest, and iris-message me.

I sighed and followed his instructions. I slid on my hoodie, shoving my golden drachma and a small baggie of ambrosia into my pocket.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on the Forbidden Forest.

Harry's POV

An owl's screech woke me.

It didn't sound like Hedwig, and my curiosity found me out of my bed, grabbing my father's invisibility cloak and slipping on my shoes.

I stood at the top of the landing, looking down at the Common Room. The owl was Raven's, and she was reading a letter.

It didn't seem like anything was going on, and I was about to leave, when she did something very odd.

She was engulfed in shadows, and then they melted away into nothing.

I quickly woke Ron and Hermione.

Raven's POV

I materialized at the mouth of the Forest.

I touched my head, which ached. Shadow-traveling takes a lot of energy and makes me a little tired.

After walking through the forest awhile, I found a wide clearing. Perfect.

The moonlight met the late-night mist and cast a faint rainbow on a wide tree-trunk. I tossed the golden drachma into it.

"O Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, accept my offering." The rainbow shimmered. "Lord Hades, Underworld." I requested. My father's image appeared on the tree trunk.

"About time," my father mumbled. "Let's begin with your pyrokinesis."

I nodded. I felt my energy build up, tugging at my gut. I released it through my hands in the form of a ball of black fire. I threw it at the nearest tree sapling, which burned instantly. I formed another ball of fire in my hand, this time blue. I turned back to my father, who looked quite impressed.

Letting the fire diffuse, I grabbed my baggie of ambrosia, eating a piece. Like shadow-traveling, most of my powers drained a lot of energy and made me tired.

I showed Father my geokinesis after that, destroying small trees with large chunks of rock and Stygian Iron that I'd summoned. I, without thinking, ate most of my Ambrosia during that.

After that, I summoned fifteen skeletal warriors to top my previous twelve by stabbing the earth with my black, Stygian Iron sword.

This drained the most of my energy, and I nearly collapsed. I was already feeling feverish and i knew i couldn't eat any more Ambrosia if I wanted to remain alive.

Father was pleased and broke the connection, bidding me good night.

I sat on a charred stump, rubbing my forehead.

SNAP!

I jerked my head up. A twig had snapped behind me. I turned slowly toward the sound. I sensed something living in that direction, but I didn't see anything.

I created a stream of blue and black fire, waving it swiftly in front of me. This made a gust of hot wind, which blew some cloak off of three students: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

This burst of energy drained a lot out of me. I leaned weakly against my sword as the three stared at me wide-eyed.

My eyelids turned to lead and, using my last ounce of strength, I sheathed my sword. I crumpled to my knees.

"Don't tell," I choked out before collapsing, unconscious.

Ron's POV

Harry, Hermione, and I walked around the grounds under Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Hermione pointed out a misty light deep in the forest.

As we headed for it, we heard a few "Hi-yah!"s every now and then.

We approached a clearing, seeing Raven stab the earth and skeletons rising from a chasm that formed in the ground.

I stared horrified at the skeletons. As soon as she summoned them, she dismissed them and they dissolved.

We were startled when she blew hot air at us with unnaturally colored flames, and the cloak flew off of us. She put away her sword. "Don't tell," she said, and then collapsed dead at our feet.

Okay, maybe not dead, but she sure looked it.

Hermione grabbed the cloak, and harry and I helped take Raven back to the Common Room. Hermione conjured up a wet cloth, which Harry applied to her hot forehead once we got her on the couch.

Raven's POV

I awoke, feeling someone's cool hand on my forehead.

"She's burning up," I heard Harry's voice say.

"I sat up, clutching my head. It felt as though something were pounding against my brain. My feverish feeling had faded, and i decided that Nectar was in line. I managed to my feet, looking around. I was back in the Common Room.

I stumbled, but caught myself on a nearby desk. I pointed across the room.

"Get—bag—need it." I managed. Whenever I spoke, my head pulsed.

Hermione tossed me my bag and I pulled out my canteen of Nectar, taking a sip. It tasted of coconut cream pie (the kind Hogwarts had. Aunt Demeter's was always…let's just say Hogwarts' was better.) and filled me with a warm sensation. My headache receded slightly, but I was still tired, had trouble thinking straight, and was in dire need of a nap.

When I screwed the cap back on and looked up, the three were staring at me as if I'd grown an extra arm, two heads, and a wing. I checked to make sure I hadn't.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What the bloody hell was that back there?" Ron demanded.

I stumbled forward. I waved my hand in front of their faces, and then snapped my fingers.

"These are not the droids you are looking for. I MEAN—"I slapped my forehead, triggering my headache which slowly receded again. What was I saying? I tried again, waving my hand and snapping a second time.

"I wasn't doing anything. You didn't see anything."

They blinked in confusion. "Uh, yes, we did." Ron insisted.

I cursed under my breath. Magic mortals must have the ability to see through the Mist.

I furrowed my brow. "Okay, never mind," I said, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Now, what exactly did you see?"

They told me everything they saw, that they'd only seen me summon the skeletons.

I nodded. "And? Your theories?" I asked, curious.

"Either you're a demon or you're a servant of You-Know-who," Hermione blurted.

"Wrong and wrong. I'm at least partly human, and I'm here to stop Voldemort. But trust me: if I told you what I am, you wouldn't believe me."

"Try us," the Harry challenged.

I smirked, glancing at my watch. "Wow, it's late, we should head to bed." I headed toward the spiral staircase, but all three of them blocked my way. Still smirking, I shadow-traveled behind them.

"Good try. What next?"

They jumped and whirled around.

"Alright, please, please just tell us!" Hermione pleaded. "If you tell us, we'll stop pestering you."

I thought about this. They were a noisy bunch. If I didn't tell them, I'd never get a moments' peace. And I NEED my moments' peace. I nodded and told them to sit on the couch. I stood in front of the fire, facing them.

"Who here knows about Greek Mythology?"

"We learned a little in Muggle school." Harry said.

"As did I" Hermione added.

"And you know about the gods?"

"The twelve Olympian gods: Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Athena, Zeus—"

"Yeah, you get it." I interrupted Hermione mid-rant. "Well, the gods are real. And they're still around, still having kids with mortals. These children—with one mortal parent and the other a god—are called demigods."

"Are you a demigod?" Hermione guessed.

I shrugged. "Demigod, half-blood, godling, take your pick."

"Which god is your parent then?" Ron asked.

"My father is Hades, Lord of the dead."

Hermione gasped. "Greek Mythology Revealed says that he was the most evil and most spiteful of the gods,"

I groaned. "Just like you mortals to think that." I muttered, standing. I began to pace, waving my arms as I talked— "Look, if you had to live in a hole full of dead people for eternity, and can only come out once a year for a meeting, you'd be grumpy, too. That doesn't make him evil, and the same goes for me! We're just…" I racked my brain for the right work, sitting back down.

"Misunderstood,"

I threw a puzzled look at Harry when I realized he and I had said the word at the same time.

"But Greek Mythology—"

"Look," I rounded on Hermione, "Who are you going to believe? Some writer or a demigod who lives with a god?"

Now they were giving me puzzled looks.

I sighed. "My father's raised me most of my life because my mother died when I was young. I don't know how." It was then I noticed Harry absentmindedly rubbing his forehead where his scar was.

"But if your mother's dead, can't you just visit her in the Underworld?" asked Ron.

"I wish so badly that it was that simple, Ron. See, there's a prophesy, and it says that when one of the children of the Big Three—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—turns sixteen, they'll have the choice of whether to destroy Olympus or save it. Until I turn sixteen, I'm not allowed anywhere near Elysium."

"What's that? What's that have to do with anything?"

"It's the place in the Underworld where the good people go. My mother went there, and I made a bet with my father that if I wasn't the child of the Great Prophesy, then I'd be allowed into Elysium. Until then…"

"But can't you just pop in there like you did just now?"

"The Underworld is complicated." Harry stood and looked into my eyes. I knew what he was thinking, what he couldn't bring himself to say.

I explained further, in more detail, about my powers. I even showed them my sword.

I swung the black blade a few times, then lunged and stabbed Ron in the chest.

He yelped in surprise, and then looked down at the sword that protruded from his chest. There was no blood. There wasn't even a cut or bruise. "What the—"

I smirked, amused, putting my sword away. "It's Stygian Iron. Won't harm mortals. Only monsters and demigods. See?" I swung it casually and gave myself a nick on my palm. It wasn't a gruesome cut, but Hermione gasped all the same.

"Aren't you hurt?" she asked, worried, as the wound began to bleed sluggishly.

"Yeah. But I, being a daughter of Hades, have a natural tolerance for pain. Sure, I feel it, I just ignore it. Or try to at least. Because pain's nothing more than a distraction," I said, sheathing my sword. I grabbed my bag and found a long bandage. I began wrapping my hand.

When i finished, Isat across from them. "Now, let me set something straight. Being a daughter of Hades, I'm destined to be an outcast. Only the dead will truly respect me, only out of fear. Now, I think we can be friends, but I'm not sure that I want my parentage known quite yet. For now, this is between us, agreed?"

They agreed.

I smiled—a rarity for me—and put my fist in the middle of the four of us. They each, one by one, put their hand on top of mine.

"Friends?" I asked.

"Friends," they said in unison.