Chapter 8
Author's Note:
Hi everyone!
Many thanks to my wonderful reviewers.
NOTE: I've had some comments about the amount of dialogue I put in this story (you know who you are). I must admit, I agree sometimes it can get rather too...theatrical, play-like. However, whereas it would be quicker to recount a lot of stuff in the fanfic through narrative, equally a lot of material can only be (to my mind) properly covered through conversation. So, if you find dialogue a little tiresome, I am sorry. Truly. This chapter has a lot of it. But in my defence I've reduced it as much as possible. (It's hard to control this fic, I swear it has a life of its own.)
Leo wondered what humankind had done to deserve such punishment. Okay, sure, humans couldn't seem to breathe without causing trouble; there had been wars, murder, betrayal, massacres, and generally lots of blood, but surely nothing was serious enough for this to curse their race and very existence.
Dolores Umbridge sat at her desk with her hands set primly on her desk, her stumpy feet exactly together, her back straight, her little black hair bow sitting perfectly snug among her grey curls. Her outfit, as garishly pink as usual, was thankfully for the most part hidden by the large mahogany desk, but that didn't do much to lessen Leo's nausea.
The woman stirred some unwelcome memories in Leo's currently repulsed mind. The sheer ice behind that smiley gaze reminded him of the snow goddess Khione; the way she would also act all soft and sweet, while her true self was cold and hard as steel.
The very first thing Umbridge had said in Leo's presence that morning was an announcement that she expected this class to behave 'in a manner that befitted their age and status as wizards in the making'.
"I had to deal with a ridiculous amount of questions in my first lesson," she'd said, tutting and smoothing down her pink tweed skirt. "Let's see if we can make this one a successful one, shall we?"
Percy, of course, had opened his mouth to retort - probably to ask what her definition of 'successful' was - but Annabeth had stopped him in time. The frown on her forehead and the hard lines of her lips as she glanced at Umbridge told Leo everything he needed to know about her sympathy for her boyfriend's rebellious impulse, but, as ever, she demonstrated a control over her emotions that even Leo, the self-described machine-man, found hard to compete with.
The woman kindled such disgust and contempt inside him, he could feel his skin crawling as she straightened the cameo pendant at her neck so that it hung perfectly perpendicular to her frilly collar. It was remarkable, the rational, mechanical side of his brain reflected, how Umbridge just seemed to attract every negative feelings around her person. She was so prim and pristine, her voice so sickly sweet, she was like those carnivorous plants who looked bright, but smelled bad and reacted worse when something innocent buzzed by.
The final thing that made Leo certain of this woman's malevolence was finding himself tempted to flick ink pellets at her - something he never would have dreamed the Great Valdez would lower himself to. Far too juvenile, not to mention tacky.
No. Dolores Umbridge deserved something better. As discordant as that phrase sounded out of context, Leo couldn't help but smile darkly as he evaluated his options. Oh, he would make her pay. He wasn't even sure for what, yet. But he had no doubt she would provide them with ample reason soon enough. If Potter's story was anything to go by, provoking this woman was easy. And Leo - being Leo - could, and would, break her.
Dolores. Even her name meant 'pain', Leo thought bitterly.
Her smile was the worst. Class had started fifteen minutes ago, the very first Defence Against the Dark Arts for the sixth-year demigods, and still that smug, self-satisfied little smile had not budged a nanometre from their professor's rouged lips.
School gossip had it Harry Potter had stormed out of his first lesson - a rumour Percy had quietly confirmed for them - and at that moment Leo really could not blame him. The class was quiet, almost oppressively so, yet the disgust and boredom of the collective student body was so palpable that for a moment Leo was tempted to say the Grace siblings were up to something. Umbridge, for whatever reason, had apparently not yet sensed the disquiet among her students, even though by now only about two of them were still reading their assigned chapter. (For some reason no-one could fathom, the entire school from first year through to seventh had been issued the same textbook for this subject. The demigods weren't by any means academic experts, but even they could tell there were several things wrong with that).
Leo's hands, as usual, couldn't stay still. They fluttered around the desk, plucked at the small hairs on his arms, and every time he glanced down at the open book before him and tried to take in the information - if you could call it that - either the words wriggled around on the page or a new plan for making Umbridge's life difficult popped up, making it hard for him to concentrate.
So far, he'd decided he was going to wire her to a special little invention of his. Originally, he'd destined it to the pesky Hermes kids who'd been cheeky enough to steal stuff from Bunker Nine - yeah, it'd been for the war effort and all that, but nobody stole from Leo Valdez and got away with it without developing some mysterious symptoms for an ailment afterwards. So far, his little gadget - privately named the Valdezingitis - caused the victim to suffer purple acne, choke out a glob of bright green mucus every time they coughed (or cleared their throat, which was why Leo was so keen to use that little marvel on the permanently hem-hem'ing Prof. U.), develop a skin rash that tickled rather than itched, and occasionally caused them to forget simple life rules - like how to eat with cutlery or tie shoelaces, for example.
Leo was just debating if he should program some modifications to alter certain aspects of the symptoms (maybe make the spots green instead of purple?) when Annabeth surprised him, and everyone else, by raising her hand.
Leo, who had heard of a certain Hermione Granger doing precisely the same thing and not getting any bonus points for it, wondered if the daughter of Athena had finally cracked her pants.
Umbridge's eyes bulged in their sockets as she noticed Annabeth's hand remaining steadily in the air, accentuating her unfortunate resemblance to venomous amphibians and slimy things in general.
When it became clear that every single student's gaze was fixated on either Annabeth or their teacher, Umbridge gave a huffy little sigh and neatly pushed her chair back before tottering over to Annabeth's chair.
"What is it, dear? Is there a word you don't understand?" she whispered, though everyone heard her.
Annabeth fixed her stormy eyes on Umbridge's pouchy face with a look of such contempt, Leo felt sudden, irrational relief that he was not the one subject to it.
"No. What I don't understand is this book's approach to practical defence."
Umbridge straightened. Her face was grim, and Leo knew what was going through her mind: Oh, let's not start this again. However, faithful to her usual slimy self, her tone when she next spoke was as saccharine soft as usual.
"Well, Miss..?"
"Annabeth Chase."
"Miss Chase, I think the approach presented in Mr Slinkhard's approved text should be perfectly easy to understand once you have finished the chapter." Umbridge's toady eyes glanced meaningfully at Annabeth's book, which, like everyone else's, was still open at Chapter Two's introduction.
"I have finished it. And Chapter Three, Four and Five. I said I don't understand his approach because in the first quarter of his textbook, there's still nothing about practicing actual magic."
There was a little pause, during which Leo grinned at Percy. His girlfriend had style. Leo had to consider purchasing trademark rights. Then, Umbridge clasped her hands together and trilled her little laugh.
"Using magic, Miss Chase? Why, there is no need to practice dangerous spells in my classroom. Why ever should I allow it to happen?"
"Oh, I don't know," Annabeth answered, her posture superbly dignified and her tone only hinting at sarcasm. "It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that spells need practice to be perfect, could it?"
Umbridge looked at her steadily for a moment, then took a deep breath and retreated to (the safety of) her desk.
"Well, I see it's...necessary to make a few things clear." she paused and smiled at them like a scary nanny looming over her two-year-old charges. "You have been trained thus far with the extremely dangerous mentality of 'practice makes perfect'. Now, I have had some previous remarks made by students regarding this subject," her smile turned smug, "and by now they will hopefully have seen the error of their ways. This year, you will be following a closely-structured, Ministry-approved course based on theory and the fragile learning curve of wizards and witches your age."
"Our age specifically?" Percy asked, raising his hand (rumour had it raised hands were necessary to possess a voice in Umbridge's classes). "But I seem to recall the entire school being taught with the same textbook this year."
"Yes. You see, sadly Mr Jackson, the entirety of Hogwarts' student population has suffered from lack of proper teaching in Defence Against the Dark Arts and needs to return to the basics. There have been dark wizards teaching you, frauds, and-" she shuddered delicately, "- dangerous half-breeds."
Percy reddened in anger. Leo winced. Umbridge had hit too close to the spot; no doubt 'half-breed' drew un-intentioned parallels with their own status as half-bloods.
"Professor Lupin was a brilliant teacher." someone called out angrily.
"Yeah. And even Quirrell was alright 'till he got possessed by You-Know-Who." someone else joined in.
"And therein lies my point." Umbridge replied silkily. "Teachers who are hailed as great by education-starved children or who get themselves supposedly possessed by a dead dark wizard are hardly the stuff of core training."
"But at least we'd learn spells with them." Annabeth said. "Not just theory."
Umbridge smiled again. "But that is theory's purpose, silly girl. An alternate, risk-free way of learning magic to the benefit of all."
"To the benefit of the Ministry, you mean." Annabeth replied, her tone steely now. Her eyes glittered in a way that usually made any monster question their existence to Tartarus. "Because then we wouldn't be able to use it against them."
Umbridge sighed and smoothed down her skirt, tweaking the bows near her collar and tottering back to her seat.
"Miss Chase, you are being ridiculous. The Ministry has nothing to fear from a group of children not yet out of school. Now, if we are quite finished, perhaps we can go back to reading our chap- yes, Mr...?" she snapped at Jason, who'd been idly flicking through his textbook during the debate.
"Jason Grace. Professor, I was just wondering; if we read one chapter per lesson, and as Annabeth pointed out, there are twenty of them, then won't we have finished with this book by, say, mid-November?" He looked up at her, all wide-eyed and innocent. "So, correct me if I'm wrong, but we won't have anything else to study for the year."
He paused.
"Unless you make us read it again, of course."
Umbridge kept her gaze on him for a few more seconds, then brought her chair closer to her desk and, pointedly looking at her papers instead of at him, said "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Grace."
Thalia scoffed on her stoic brother's behalf.
"What for?"
"Your hand is not up, Miss-"
"Grace. Thalia Grace. I asked you, what for?" The huntress repeated, glaring at their teacher like she was mentally analysing where each arrow of her quiver would hit her and at precisely which speed. Her hand was still not in the air.
Umbridge rolled her eyes the tiniest of fractions. "For questioning a teacher's authority and decision-making in her own classroom."
"He asked a question about the textbook." Thalia insisted. "Since when is that punishable?"
"Since I am the one adult with authority here, and I set the rules." Umbridge replied coldly. "If you have any issues with that, I suggest you leave school altogether, Miss Grace. Each and every teacher in Hogwarts is entitled to deduct points should they so wish."
She turned to the rest of the class, who by now was either looking amused or seething with rage.
"That goes for all of you. I will not tolerate any rebellion in my class. Now, if we may please return to page twenty-five-"
Annabeth put her hand up again. Umbridge closed her eyes briefly.
"What is it now, Miss Chase?"
"Professor, just one more question, so we're all clear. Are we or are we not going to practice magic in your classes this year?"
"You will not." Umbridge answered softly. "The theory is sound, and there will be no reason for you to practice such magic in my classroom."
"Then," Annabeth said, getting up and shoving bits and pieces into her bag. "I see no reason to stay any longer." She marched out to a stunned Umbridge's desk, rummaging in her bag before retrieving a piece of paper, which she placed in front of their teacher. Umbridge looked at the paper, frozen except for her bulging eyes.
"My letter of recommendation." Annabeth informed her.
Leo sucked in a breath. The nine demigods had each received a letter of reference from Chiron that morning, effectively proving their legitimacy at Hogwarts.
"It's from Mythomagic Institute. It says here that I, and my friends, came to Hogwarts to learn magic. Practical, defensive magic. Not to learn how to read."
With that, Annabeth turned on her heel and marched out of the room, winking at Leo, Percy, Jason and Thalia on the way out.
Grinning at his friends' expressions of utter shock, Leo glanced back at Umbridge. Green, purple and yellow spots it was, then.
0o0o0o0o0o0
The news that Annabeth Chase had walked out of one of her core classes had, by midday, run rampant through the school. For the entire lunch hour, during which Annabeth remained unfindable, Percy had to dodge dozens of curious questions, amused requests for the story and frowns of disapproval from his girlfriend's Ravenclaw housemates. The latter had tried cornering him twice, in a matter of hours, to try and get him to talk some sense into Annabeth.
Percy, being Percy, had had to fight the urge of bringing out Riptide and pushing his way out of the fray of blue-robed students, but had instead settled to laughing and informing them that, regrettably, no-one but Annabeth herself could change her mind.
Which was not to say that he would not try.
Just after lunch, when he had a free period, Percy found Annabeth curled up in an armchair in the library. She was idly leafing through her book, and though she smiled as he approached her she did not look up. Percy knew her well enough to know this meant she was not yet fully over what had happened.
"So, um...where were you?" he asked her, careful to keep his voice down (Mrs Pince, the librarian, had ears like a fox).
"In Professor Flitwick's office, and then Dumbledore's." she said in a small voice. "I explained to them what happened, and made my case."
"And, er...what was the outcome?"
Annabeth shrugged. She still hadn't looked at him, which was starting to worry Percy. Had he done something wrong too...?
"I'm sorry." he said. "I should've followed you out of that classroom, but I-"
Annabeth shook her head quickly and put a hand on his lips, at last meeting his eyes.
"No. Don't be. It's bad enough that I defected, gods forbid you do too."
"But..."
"I made a mistake, Percy." Annabeth sighed. "I let my anger take the better of me. I was sure I was within my rights to leave, so I did. But when I spoke to Dumbledore, he made it clear this was beyond his control."
"But he's the headmaster-"
"And Umbridge works for the Ministry." she replied flatly. "Remember her speech that first night? I should have seen what she was doing. Hogwarts is slowly losing ground to the Ministry, Percy - or at least that what Dumbledore hinted at when I was with him. The Minister, Cornelius Fudge, seems to think our headmaster is raising an army against him."
Percy felt a little lost, but the last sentence rang a small bell in his mind.
"Oh. That's what you meant when you told Umbridge the Ministry was deliberately teaching sub-standard."
Annabeth nodded, her expression bitter.
"I tried proving that I wasn't required to take Defence, not with a teacher like Umbridge. I showed them the school report Chiron sent us, I showed them the reference letter - yes, I made copies -... I even offered to demonstrate what I could do."
"That was a risky bluff."
Annabeth shrugged. "Not really. If they'd asked me to show them some spells it would've meant I'd already won. But it didn't work anyway. I'm expected to turn up at my next lesson as though nothing's happened. Dumbledore can't do anything about it, or he'll forfeit the limited power he has left."
Percy sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.
"Umbridge... She won't let you off the hook, you know."
For the first time in the conversation, Annabeth gave him a genuine smile.
"That's the one piece of good news. Dumbledore guaranteed me that I wouldn't get detention or deducted points because, as he'll say to Umbridge, I was worried about the standard of our education, not the course or, Elysium forbid," she grimaced, "our teacher's ability."
Percy sighed in relief. Well, at least no real harm had been done. Worst-case scenario, Annabeth would suffer a little humiliation.
"Best-case scenario," he said out loud with a smile, "Umbridge is humiliated in her first week at Hogwarts, you make a point, and all the other students look up to you as their role model."
"Role model? Hardly." she muttered. "D'you know how embarrassing this is for a daughter of Athena, Percy? To walk out of a place where knowledge could potentially be gained?"
He chuckled.
"Can't say that I do. I personally call what happened this morning 'badass'."
Annabeth poked him in the ribs, then laughed and sprang to her feet.
"Well, it's a good thing you're here, Percy Jackson, because I'm gonna need help for some research."
Percy's heart sank. Research? He'd rather fight a hydra. Libraries weren't much better than those vicious multi-serpent monsters, in a way: every time you finished with one book, there were a dozen more waiting to be read, tidied and bookmarked, until one no longer knew where to look for escape.
"I will bring Umbridge's course down around her ears if I have to steal books from Olympus itself." Annabeth announced grimly. "Which is why we'll use the good old trick of using the law against those who abuse it. You, meanwhile, can start finding out information about the learning curve of wizards."
Percy groaned. Sure, a hydra. Or a giant. Whichever, as long as it didn't spout complicated language and calligraphic writing.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Piper leaned back into her boyfriend's arms, letting her head fall back on his shoulder. His arm tightened around her, and she tried to forget how discouraged and out of her depth she felt.
They were sitting in front of the fire in their private common room, about an hour after dinner on Thursday evening. Piper knew they were supposed to be making friends in their own houses, but she really could not be bothered to socialize with the bunch of jerks her house seemed to consist of. So far in the past four days, her only interaction with them had been a squeaked "Sorry!" when she'd bumped into a Slytherin sixth-year girl in the corridor the day before, and having to fight down a blush when several Slytherin seventh-years wolf-whistled as she left the Great Hall after lunch.
Their first week was nearly over, and Piper was exhausted. She'd been to plenty of different schools, each more snobby and uncomfortable than the next, but Hogwarts was different. The huge old castle was just so overwhelmingly complex and the schoolwork so intense that she felt almost incapable just keeping up with it all. It didn't help that they were completely out of their usual environment either: habits and customs here were so familiar and yet strange that half the time she found herself thinking twice before doing or saying something, not least because every hour of the day she had to be acutely aware that she could potentially be the one to attract suspicion on their group.
That said, Hogwarts was the first school where she actually felt welcome, and that in itself was one of the reasons she was feeling so down: the professors were, so far, quite kind and fair-minded; it felt wrong to constantly lie to them. That very day, Piper had lost count of the number of times she'd opened her mouth only to pour out fibs and excuses for her poor performance in class.
The truth was, magic was far from easy. She was embarrassed to admit it, even to herself, but prior to their first day of classes she'd just assumed they would pick up magic as they went along, or at the very worst they could use their demigod powers to cover up their mistakes. Trouble was, magic was just so much more complex than she'd first thought. Theory patterns, wand movements, incantations in advanced Latin, specific intonations that affected the strength of the spell... Her head swam just thinking about it all. And the other students made it seem so easy. Slytherin sixth-years had Charms with the Ravenclaws, and earlier that morning, before the disastrous Defence class Piper had regrettably not witnessed, the two girls in front of Piper and Annabeth had pulled off the Strengthening Charm on their third go. Within ten minutes, both their sets of torn cloth strips had become rock-solid ladders, while the two demigod girls behind them could barely manage to untangle them from one another.
Piper knew for a fact that Annabeth was taking this sudden academic challenge particularly hard. Her friend, she knew, was used to pulling off excellent grades - something that seemed tremendously ambitious if not completely out of reach here, given the sheer alien-ness of their curriculum. Piper had left that lesson - the last one of the day, thanks to her free periods - feeling drained and discouraged, though to her irritation Annabeth was more pumped-up than ever. It seemed the challenge of difficulty was irresistible to the daughter of Athena: she later heard Annabeth spent the rest of the day in the library, leaving Piper to find her way back to their common room and hope someone else was there to keep her company.
Leo, Hazel and Frank had come back soon after her, muttering about mountains of homework, but had immediately set to doing a kind of work that was specific to the nine of them, and only within the confinements of their private common room. Since Percy had worriedly shared with them the conversation he'd had with Harry Potter and Professor McGonagall, her very strange behaviour afterwards and his inevitable conclusion that she knew something, they had doubled their efforts in discretion and reinforced any possible means of privacy they had. For Leo, this led to the adoption of a twice-daily routine of inspecting every inch of their common room and dormitories (Annabeth scoured the girls' one) in search of spying devices someone could have planted in their absence.
Piper wasn't herself sure McGonagall and Dumbledore were threats, exactly. Sure, it seemed likely the old genius knew something was up with their group, but he had done precisely nothing (that they could find) to act on his suspicions. As for McGonagall...well, she seemed to be choosing the option of trusting Percy with information that was clearly delicate. In Piper's mind, there was definitely something fishy going on with the Transfiguration teacher too, perhaps more so than with Dumbledore.
The idea of regularly checking for spyware had been bounced around the day of their arrival, but whereas it had been laughed off as simply paranoid when Annabeth suggested it then, it now was seen as a matter of necessity. Annabeth still did not trust Albus Dumbledore and made her suspicions of him clear, which Piper respected but didn't entirely understand. However, as Nico had pointed out, Dumbledore and McGonagall were not necessarily the only ones to suspect them, and therefore perhaps not the ones most likely to spy on them. Flitwick, Nico stated as an example, was just as likely to keep an eye on them if he was right in thinking the professor suspected him of dark magic, after that little trick with the dead mice.
In any case, they were better off safe than sorry. Using his supersensory abilities to detect anything remotely mechanic about the room, Leo methodically ran his hands across the stone walls, the bedposts, the inside of the fireplace and underneath the furniture. Of course, they all knew by now that magic seldom had anything to do with mechanics, but thankfully Leo said he could just as well sense magical contraptions as mechanical ones. There was very little difference between the two, he explained, because the most elaborate ones in their world, like Festus and Archimedes' spheres, functioned thanks to magic as well. There was no way normal science could make Daedalus' laptop shrink or expand at will, or make Festus develop actual taste-buds and a preference for Tabasco sauce if it weren't for a little magical influence.
As for Annabeth, she had preferred to revise and establish a few new rules. She didn't call them that, but every demigod in the vicinity knew them to be rules. They were now extremely discouraged of using their demigod powers anywhere that came even close to being public; conversations were kept to a strict banality when mortals were within earshot; they were to deflect any questions that were deemed too probing and immediately report them and their inquisitors to the others; any monster threats had to be dealt with quickly and as discreetly as possible.
The lattermost was thought by all of them to be the hardest to stick to: usually when they fought monsters the Mist was powerful enough to cover for them, but in an area so saturated with magic and illusion it was unlikely at best that wizards would stay oblivious if a Minotaur were to attack, or if something huge and slimy suddenly burst out of the forest, especially if any damage was done in their attempts to kill them.
All in all, it had been an eventful week to say the least, and Piper barely had enough energy to squeeze back Jason's hand when he held hers. Still, Leo had finished his rounds and he had followed in Hazel and Frank's footsteps to wash and change, so for the moment it was just her and Jason, which she was glad about. Camp was bad enough in that aspect, but at boarding schools it was nigh on impossible to get much privacy.
Jason had pulled out his wand from his sleeve and was swishing it around, muttering things in Latin she couldn't quite catch. She considered joining him and practicing Strengthening Charms for the next day, but her wand was lying on the coffee table four feet away, just out of her reach, and she really didn't want to leave his warm arms just yet.
"How long d'you think it'll be before we're good at magic too?" she asked Jason quietly.
"Dunno. Maybe never. It isn't natural for us, after all." Jason replied with a sigh, tucking his wand away.
"I wish it weren't so hard." Piper murmured.
"Aw, where would be the fun in learning it, then?"
"I just... wish we could do something that's easy, for a change." she said.
Jason scratched his head. "Well... I dunno about you, Pipes, but it seems to me we've had it pretty easy so far. I mean, usually by this time on a quest we've met - what? at least a dozen monsters? And getting inside the school was fairly easy. Talking as opposed to sword-fighting? I know which option I'd choose any day."
Piper considered that for a bit. In comparison to flying around on a dodgy metal dragon, escaping Cyclopes and nearly drowning in non-aquatic water, it was true that Hogwarts seemed more like a holiday in a spa resort than a school, albeit with extra paperwork involved. Maybe she'd just lost the habit of studying for new subjects.
"I suppose," she sighed. "It's just... I feel kinda trapped here, you know? On a quest we're always on the move, not staying anywhere too long because monsters might be tracking us down. Well, here we'll be staying put for months. What if monsters come and find us here? Percy found those Asrai nymphs his first day; there are bound to be monsters close by as well. And we won't be able to put any distance between us."
"I think we all know the answer to that, Piper." Jason said quietly. "As usual, it'll only be a matter of time before something notices us, and, as usual, we'll have to fight it. And then it'll happen again, and again. Maybe not as much as on a quest, because Hogwarts' boundaries can probably hold the worst off, but we'll have to face the consequences of who we are soon."
Piper plucked at the fabric of the sofa they were lounging on, wondering if the resigned edge to her boyfriend's voice had always been there, or if it had appeared only recently. Jason had always been graver than most teenagers. More mature, and more serious in many aspects. But the words he was saying now sounded like they came from someone much older than her sixteen-year-old boyfriend.
"Don't you think it's strange how our lives are actually quite predictable?" she wondered aloud. "When I learned I was a demigod, Chiron warned me that my life would be dangerous and unpredictable, that I would never know if I'd live to see another month. But actually, you can always say that a demigod's life will be full of danger, that at some point they'll have to face the fact that they're not entirely human, and that they'll most likely die young."
Jason's mouth stretched into a half-smile. "I wouldn't say our lives are predictable as such. Maybe full of likely occurrences, but then so are ninety-nine percent of other people's. If we were ordinary humans, we'd most likely grow up with our families, go to one or two schools, go to college, get a job, get married, have kids, then die when we reach old age. When you look at it that way, everyone's life is predictable. Doesn't mean we don't get to choose what happens in them, even if we do seem forced to meet a couple of monsters every now and then."
"Mm. I guess."
"Why the sudden gloomy outlook, anyway?"
Piper hesitated, unsure she wanted to tell Jason that she was losing her confidence for this mission. Her heart felt burdened already, as much by the constant lying and the dangers that comprised as by her own sense of failure around anything that had to do with magic. Fortunately, she was saved the trouble of skirting around the truth by the entrance of Thalia.
The huntress stormed into the common room and collapsed on the chair nearest to the fireplace, tilting her head back and rubbing her temples. Her eyes were closed, and a tight frown furrowed her brow, as though she had a severe headache.
"Hey, sis. What's kicking?"
"That freakin' storm." she muttered. "I maintained it for two hours the other day, and it's given me a headache I can't shake off."
Jason swore and sat upright, sending Piper sprawling across the sofa while she laughed.
"Why'd you keep it going for so long? The storm was gonna happen anyway." Jason asked, concerned. "The air was so heavy it was bound to strike before the next morning."
"What's this about a storm?" Piper asked, amused but with no idea what they were talking about.
"We decided to prove to our Divination class that Trelawney's prophecies are about as reliable as Hermes on marijuana."
"She predicted that the weather tonight would provide perfect conditions for stargazing, so naturally Percy decided to wreck her and Professor Sinistra's plans and whip up a storm."
"So when all Astronomy lessons were cancelled for the week, that was your work?" Piper asked, amused.
Jason and Thalia glanced at each other and shrugged. "Sort of," the huntress answered. "We just triggered it. I sustained it for a while, like I've said, but it didn't really need encouragement."
"Stop it, Thal. You're exhausting yourself." Jason insisted.
Thalia shrugged like it was no big deal, but her face was even paler than usual and her eyes were closed again.
"What do you mean?" Piper asked Jason quietly. "The storm's been over for over a day. How can she still be exhausting herself?"
Jason sat back down and rubbed his hands together, staring into the fire. Piper could hear the wind howling outside, and even though the windows on the walls were fake and enchanted to reflect the weather (they were at the heart of the third floor) she could see it was still raining hard, even if the thunder and lightning had ceased long ago.
"Being a child of Jupiter - or Zeus - isn't like being a son of Poseidon or Hades." Jason started saying, still staring at the flames in the fireplace. "Percy can switch off his maritime sense when he's away from the ocean, and Nico can concentrate on the living when he wants to forget about the dead, but when you're a child of the celestial god you're constantly aware of the sky. Whatever pressure you feel in the air just before a storm, to us it's like someone's feeding us concentrated sugar, and when a storm breaks out it's like a rush of adrenaline. If you harness the power of a storm, you can control it, but it can also control you. It's like trying to tame a a pet that's gone wild: it could submit and return to obeying you, but it could just as easily snap and consume you entirely. When you can control it," he sighed and gestured towards his sister, sprawled on the sofa, "it's hard to let it go completely, and it leaves you drained, sometimes for days."
"I'd no idea it was so dangerous." Piper murmured. "So all this time...when you've been summoning storms..."
Jason gave a small shrug, but was saved from having to answer when Leo, Frank and Hazel came back to join them. Together they decided to pull out various assignments they had been given in the past four days and tried to complete them. Piper couldn't believe that on the very first week of term the students would be given this much work. She and her fellow sixth-years had already been assigned two essays in Charms and Transfiguration, a detailed analysis of the ingredients that made up a Reminding Cordial, and additional spell practice for Flitwick and McGonagall. Frank, Nico and Hazel had a dream diary to start and an essay in Muggle Studies, as well as three different spells to practice so far.
They pulled out their textbooks (the suitcases they had found near their beds on the morning of their first day had been a literal godsend) and tried to extract enough information to write their answers. Needless to say, it was extremely difficult. First of all, the question itself was obscurely worded (Explain and evaluate, using examples and as precisely as you can, the importance of articulation in the efficiency of spells), then the textbook proved nearly impossible to read without resorting to Frank's kind assistance - and even he struggled with occasionally indecipherable wizarding names. And if that wasn't enough, there was the more general problem that none of them knew anything about magic - be it spells, famous scholars, plants, theory or wand movements - period.
Jason had valiantly written the question down and drafted a lopsided plan for his answer, but Piper was banging her head repeatedly on the pages of the book, wondering if stamping it on her forehead could feasibly be an alternate way of inserting the information into her mind, while Thalia gave up after half an hour and went back to closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, claiming a migraine.
At least Hazel and Frank were making some progress. The subject of Muggle Studies, it turned out, was little more than a joke. Wizarding knowledge of muggle technology seemed to gravitate around the nineteen fifties, and in terms of habit seemed to think Muggles spent their time researching mass-murder weapons or inventing coffee recipes. Within twenty minutes, Hazel's Muggle Studies textbook lay discarded and untouched on a corner of the table, and both her and Frank's essays were nearing completion. The expected perspective in the essay was so archaic that even Hazel could relate to it without much difficulty, and when Nico entered the room ten minutes later, it was to find the both of them debating whether they should include some of their demigod dreams in their dream diaries.
"Imagine the extra credit we'd get if Trelawney witnessed some of them come true." Frank gloated, grinning.
"Dumbledore would offer you her job on the spot." Thalia said, sounding perfectly serious.
"Yup. On a golden platter with a purple ribbon." Jason agreed.
"Don't let Annabeth catch you at this." Nico warned his sister. "She'll go spare if anyone so much as hints at our supernatural abilities."
"But they're dreams." Hazel insisted. "Most night visions we get aren't even prophetic, they just give us a glimpse of what's happening elsewhere."
"Exactly. If they're not prophetic, there's no point including them in Divination diaries."
Hazel puffed, while Frank chuckled.
"I just think we'd get more points. We're so behind as it is-"
Nico hushed her and held up a hand to request silence, tipping his head to one side, listening hard. After two seconds of confused silence, he straightened and smiled slightly.
"Speak of the devil, Annabeth's on her way here."
"How'd you know?"
Nico smirked, and Piper wasn't sure she'd like what he was about to say.
"I, er - may have been making friends with other ghosts around here. They let me know when they see anything."
"What?" Piper gasped. "Are you... Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Nico shrugged. "Where's the problem? I control them: they couldn't tell anyone if they tried, and we need eyes and ears around here."
Piper hesitated. The memory of Percy and Annabeth's angry reactions following Nico's display in front of Myrtle was still fresh in her mind, and she wasn't quite sure how to react now.
As though he were reading her mind, Nico rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I didn't use the sword again. I asked them, politely, if they could let me know when they saw certain things."
"What kind of things?" Thalia asked suspiciously.
Nico shrugged again. "Not much. Just updates on all your whereabouts so it's easier to find you if we run into any trouble, and warnings if any teachers are coming our way, just in case we're doing anything...unwizardly."
Piper leaned back into Jason's arms.
"Huh." she said, impressed. "That's actually- That's really..."
"...professional." Jason completed for her, similarly awed.
"Really cool." Leo added, grinning from ear to ear. "Aw guys, we're like, Spy Kids or something! Or... No, no, no, the kids from The Incredibles! We totally kick ass, I'm telling you!"
"But I wouldn't tell these guys too much, Nico." Frank ventured, his brow creasing into a worried frown. "I know they're under your control and all, but the less they know, the better."
The others nodded in agreement, and Nico gestured his assent.
Just at that moment, the door opened and Annabeth stumbled in, followed by Percy, the former loaded with a huge bag stuffed with books and a good dozen more balanced in the latter's arms. Annabeth's cheeks were flushed with exertion and she was panting heavily, but she was grinning and her eyes sparkled so brightly no-one could ever doubt she a daughter of the bright-eyed goddess.
"Okay, I've done some research-"
"We've done some research." Percy corrected her, his voice muffled and sounding not exactly thrilled at having his vision obstructed by a huge pile of books in his arms. "Some of these are for our homework, by the way-" he dropped the books in his arms and they landed with an almighty crash on the table, sending parchment flying everywhere, "-and remind me never to go to the library with you when you're on a roll."
"- and you'll never believe what I've found out!" Annabeth continued, oblivious.
"- it's torture. D'you know how many books I've had to take out, carry, put back, read?" Percy shuddered. "And that librarian woman is scary. I wouldn't be surprised if her name was Alecto."
Annabeth ignored him. She was so excited Piper wondered if going to the library, despite personal prejudices and general perception, would be worth it after all. She could do with a buzz like that.
"Well actually, it's more of a theory than a hard fact, but it's still-" she shook her head and held out her hands. "Urgh, I'm doing this wrong. Okay, you know how we're really behind in magic and it's ridiculously hard for us to do just one spell?"
The others nodded. Oh yes, they were aware.
"Well, I looked up some beginners' texts, to see if first-year wizards find it as hard as we do. It turns out, they do! Young children do accidental magic since they're born, pretty much, so it's really hard for them to be able to harness it and use it properly with wands and everything."
"Er... Where is this going?" Leo asked, completely thrown.
"Just a sec, I'm getting there. So, I did some more research and looked up some statistics, from the Department of Magical Growth and Learning for Young Wizards. I found out that magic can only be learned from a relatively young age, like, er..." she faltered, looking for an example, then snapped her fingers triumphantly. "Like speech! Children can only learn to speak when they're infants, any later than five years old and they lose they ability to develop speech for ever."
Piper paled, exchanging panicky looks with the others.
"What? But...hang on, you're saying it's too late for us to learn magic?"
"But that's so unfair! I want to learn how to make lightsabers!" Leo whined.
A smile stretched Annabeth's lips, and it was one Piper was used to seeing. It was a mixture of Haven't you figured it out yet? and I know something you don't.
"Actually, I'm fairly certain it means the opposite." she said.
"What?" It was Jason's turn to be confused. "But you just said-"
"Think about it. Yes, it's true magic can only be learned early on, but by all rights that should mean we can't produce the faintest glimmer of...whatever! But we know for a fact that's not true: Piper and I managed to do something to the ropes in Charms today; I managed to get some sort of reaction from my wand my first night here; and Percy also produced some woodlice in his first lesson-"
"Jason, Thalia and I made some woodlice that day too," Piper joined in, unsure where this was going but starting to see some light at the end of the tunnel. "Well, not real ones, but it was still using magic."
"Exactly. I read up more stuff in the library, and according to the people who work in that department, children lose their ability to learn magic properly by the time they reach puberty - which I'd say we've definitely entered by now. Something about hormone increases disrupting the balance between magic and nature when the magic hadn't been sufficiently tamed - closest thing to science I've seen since we got here." she waved her hand around impatiently. "Anyway, that's how the Squib population stayed so high in the Middle Ages."
"Er... Squib?" Leo asked weakly.
"People who were born in magical families but who can't use magic of their own. Historically, wizarding families were so hunted down and isolated that it was almost impossible for schools to keep track of them and persuade parents to let their children be taken away to learn magic. Nowadays Squibs are quite rare because everything is so regulated, but there are still cases of it happening, either due to natural selection or because someone missed the opportunity of education. Where is it? I had it here somewhere..."
Annabeth started rummaging in her bag, and a few seconds later pulled out a sheet of parchment that was recognisably a page torn from a book.
"This is Miss Buniq Iyaroak's témoignage given in nineteen eighty six, I found it in the same book - I hope Miss Pince won't notice it missing -" she cleared her throat and read out, "I was born in the Russian Tundra. My father was a shaman, my mother a wise woman, while I was born a witch. I remember my magic bursting out of me at odd moments, when I was scared, or angry. I could make ice crack when I wanted it to, and fish would leap out of the water to land in my lap instead of biting at the bait. My parents knew I had magic, but decided to keep me away from schools where I could learn to use my powers. Both of them had gone to Durmstrang [That's another wizarding school in Europe] long enough to learn the basics. They never finished their education there and kept me away because, they said, schools were full of opinions that would influence the pure way our people saw the world. I grew into adulthood without too much incident, and my powers left me for good by the time I reached majority, though I had noticed them fading since I was twelve."
"That's...really sad." Piper said, frowning. "Those people had no right to keep their daughter from having an education!"
"Different time, different place." Annabeth said, putting the sheet of paper back down on the desk.
"But...how is that good for us?" Jason asked, still confused.
Annabeth looked around, her eyes still sparkling, but her expression turning increasingly disbelieving at her friends' incomprehension.
"Don't you see? By all the laws of nature and wizardry, we shouldn't be able to do the slightest bit of magic! We shouldn't be able to conjure woodlice, or strengthen rope, or even make potions. But we can. Now what does that suggest?"
"That being a demigod exempts us from some magical laws?" Jason suggested.
"That our magic is only channelling our existing powers?" Hazel offered.
"That we're butt-kicking, super-talented, awesome demigod wizards?" Leo hazarded.
Annabeth snapped her fingers and pointed at Leo. "Bingo." she said, grinning. "I think we're only capable of doing magic at our age because our parents have something to do with it. Think about it: Hecate blessed us with magical powers herself - she must have known we wouldn't be able to do much if we only had regular magic, so she gave us extra power and ability as a kind of boost."
"You're saying the gods are responsible for whatever magic we can do?" Frank clarified, frowning slightly.
Piper glanced at him and immediately knew what was bothering him. It was hard being a demigod. Part of the hardship was never really fitting anywhere except Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter, but the biggest part was the constant doubt that accompanied their every waking moment as they grew up, ignorant of their godly status, and sometimes even after they had been made aware of who they were. Were they doing the right thing? Would the gods smite them if they accidentally did something wrong? Why could they never do anything right, like staying in the same schools, making normal friends, keeping their homes un-blown-up and monster-free?
Whatever they did manage to do right was, in a way, one of the most precious things a demigod had. A feat of glory, an act of heroism, a special friendship; those were the things a demigod could say they had done well and on their own. And magic, Piper guessed, was something her friends had viewed as a result of their own talent and hard work - and rightly so, she thought. Yet now, apparently, their efforts and rare successes with this new form of power were revealed to be due to divine intervention and not ability.
"Well, at least the gods are doing something to help, for a change." Piper ventured. "Usually we have to find solutions for ourselves."
"And it's not like they're doing everything for us." Hazel joined in. "Those spells we did today were hard. Personally, I think anything we manage to do is because we work for it, Frank, not because we were given the extra ability." She smiled at her boyfriend and nudged his side. Frank blushed but looked pleased nonetheless.
"But don't you guys realise what all this could mean?" Annabeth pressed on, as though finally the exciting bit had been reached, while Percy tried not to yawn. "Never mind what we can do now, what matters is how quickly we make progress. Look-" she selected a book from the messy heap on the coffee table, "- this book examines why first-years find it so hard to produce magic. Eleven-year-olds can barely transform a match into a needle when they start magic for the first time, and that's just Elemental Modification. Conjuration is so hard most adult wizards have trouble with it, and that's why students only start studying it in fifth or sixth year. If Percy and you three-" she pointed at Thalia, Jason and Piper, "- could conjure woodlice in your first lesson, then imagine what we could do in just a few weeks of practice!"
She finished, looking around excitedly for reactions, but judging by her friends' doubtful expressions, Piper didn't think everyone was on the same genius wavelength as her friend.
"I don't know." Thalia mused, planting her chin on her closed fist, staring thoughtfully into the fire. "Just because the gods gave us a boost doesn't mean it's gonna last long."
"Yeah, remember when Zeus literally slapped us halfway across the world?" Jason asked, to general nods and snorts of laughter. "Now that was a boost, but it only helped us get there quickly, not with the battle bit."
Annabeth crossed her arms and hesitated before speaking again, like she was biting her cheek and carefully thinking through what she was going to say.
"Okay, let's test it." she decided firmly. "Everyone, pull out your wands. We're gonna do the spell Thalia, Jason and Piper did the other day to conjure woodlice. We'll see who can do it now and who can't, and then we'll try tomorrow morning and check again."
"But... We're fifth-years!" Frank spluttered in protest. "How can we do the same spells as you?"
Annabeth shrugged. "Doesn't matter. The gods gave us all the same powers, they can't afford favouritism."
"It isn't a fair test." Thalia objected, her eyes narrowing. "We've already had practice."
"I have a feeling magic can be pretty abstract," Annabeth said. "I don't think we need to be able to measure results too precisely to get an idea of what we can do."
Piper and the others exchanged doubtful looks, but everyone knew that once Annabeth had something in mind, not even Cerberus with doggie treats dangling over his head could pull it away from her.
"So, talk us through it. What do you have to do?" Annabeth asked Thalia, determination in her eyes.
Thalia looked ready to roll her eyes, but she sighed sharply and told them more or less exactly what McGonagall had taught them about willpower and concentration. Annabeth listened keenly, and when Thalia recounted Percy's success with the spell, an exploit due to the channelling of his demigod affinity with the sea, she nodded like the huntress was confirming her theory.
Closing her eyes and muttering the incantation a few times under her breath, Annabeth pointed her wand at the coffee table, her features tightening in intense concentration, and enunciated the spell clearly. When a few seconds passed and nothing happened, Piper didn't really know how react: should she laugh it off and console her friend that the theory had been too far-fetched anyway? The sympathetic side of her told her to pull out her own wand and help Annabeth prove this whimsical hypothesis was true, but her rational side was interfering, and it insisted that such a huge loophole in the way of things could not exist. The odds were never in favour of demigods, so why should they be now?
She was about to gently suggest as much when Annabeth took a deep breath, pulled her arm high above her head and brought it back down in a wide arch, speaking the incantation again in a voice that was stronger, clearer, more confident. Her eyes flashed unnaturally silver, her features turned commanding, and behind it her wand left a trail of silver sparks. Piper noticed there was also the fragrance of fresh rain in the air. She had never met Athena, but in that moment she had a pretty good idea what she looked like, if her most talented daughter was anything to go by.
Annabeth opened her eyes, and everyone's gaze fell to the middle of the coffee table, where a single, fat, wriggly woodlouse was trying to right itself up. Annabeth let out a pleased sound of triumph, while the others stared dumbly on.
"Wow." muttered Thalia.
"How'd you do that?" Frank asked in awe. "I've been trying all day to do the spells we did in class, but I didn't manage anything that quickly."
"I think...I think it works better when we anchor the spell on our demigod specialities." Annabeth said, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's hard to explain, but it's like... You have to remember who you are, and who your godly parent is. What do they stand for? What makes them strong? What makes you strong? Percy used the sea as a source," she nodded at her boyfriend, " and I used my mother's wisdom and love of learning."
Leo pulled a face. "So if I imagine myself bursting into flame, it's gonna make the spell work?"
Annabeth shook her head, frowning thoughtfully. "It's more complicated than that. You have to keep in mind this isn't typical magic. It's magic bestowed upon us by the goddess of magic herself, and mixed in with demigod powers. It's not going to work just by willing it to happen, like our demigod powers do. Magic here is a science, there's a theory we have to learn and a certain mental state we have to enter."
Nico groaned. "Please tell me there's a shortcut."
Annabeth smiled faintly. "Exactly; there might be. This is about finding out."
One by one, the demigods pulled out their wands and tried their own luck at the spell, even those who had already performed it earlier in the day. Out of all of them, only Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Thalia and Piper produced satisfactory results. After much furious concentration, Leo did manage to produce several little beads of his own, but they ignited on the spot as they bounced off the table, and the ones Hazel produced seemed to be made of lead instead of chitin. Nico succeeded several times in conjuring a small fountain of woodlice, to general awe, but the problem seemed to be in their livelihood: the ones that fell out of thin air from his wand were dead, and nothing he did seemed to produce live ones. Only Frank encountered real difficulty with the spell, concentrating so hard his ears went red and the vein on his temple threatened to pop. For the fifth time, he pointed his wand at the table, his hand shaking with the intensity of the effort.
"Don't hold your breath." Hazel told him gently. "Try and relax, breathe deeply."
"It's...not...working." Frank grunted.
"You're forcing it. Loosen your grip - there you go - and don't stiffen your entire body. Imaging you're about to fight something, you need a supple battle stance."
Frank looked embarrassed and awkward, but when nobody commented and he saw Hazel's encouraging smile, he heaved out a long breath and relaxed into a position Piper recognised as a standard stance of anticipation. He pointed his wand at the coffee table and once more adopted an air of intense concentration. Piper wondered what was going through his mind. Would he be thinking of Mars, his father, to channel his magic? She knew Frank wasn't on the best terms with his father (but then, who was?) so she had a hard time imagining how anchoring his strength on warfare and bloodlust could possibly help him do the spell. Maybe he thought of his mother. Emily Zhang was no goddess, but she had been a soldier, admired and loved by all, and especially by her son.
At last, just when Frank was starting to turn the same shade as Umbridge's tweed handbag and Piper was losing hope of him succeeding, the end of his wand burst out dull red sparks, and three wriggling shapes dropped to the table, immediately scuttling off it and disappearing from sight.
Frank let out a sigh of relief while Hazel kissed him on the cheek, laughing as he grinned. Leo and Jason slapped him on the back, and even Nico looked pleased. Annabeth crossed her arms smugly.
"I think we've just successfully proved how fast we can learn thanks to a divine boost." she declared. "I suggest we start again tomorrow, see if we get more immediate results, and maybe perfect the spell. But overall..."
"We rock." Leo finished, grinning.
0o0o0o0o0o0
"...and now the European weather forecast for the next few days. Ted, why do we need this again?"
"Well, Chuck, a lot of our people are still on the continent enjoying their vacation. It's only fair to warn them if the British excuse for weather decides to play up-"
Reyna took a sip of her soda and reached for the remote to turn off her television. Who cared about what the sky looked like halfway across the world? Only Aeolus, and maybe Jupiter. She found the remote and pointed it at the screen, only to notice something strange on the weather graphics the presenter was showing. She frowned.
"-an astonishingly violent storm in the past couple of days here, in Scotland, with winds far stronger than anticipated. And mind you, Britain at the moment is hot - the hottest week in about a century. The storm seems to be quite small and localized - surprisingly so, in fact - but defies every prediction made about it. Lashing rain for the past four days, lightning and thunder like Odin meant business. Take care, Americans, looks like a few flights are gonna be cancelled because of this baby-"
Reyna paused the image and studied the mass of swirling clouds over the northern part of the British Isles. It really was quite small, and there were very few cloud gatherings anywhere else in the country, which made the storm stand out on the map like a Cyclops' eye in the middle of a green and blue face.
Reyna wondered if Jupiter had anything to do with it. As a demigod, she knew of course that the gods could pop up anywhere at any time (like daisies, she thought, only nowhere near as innocent). But she'd always wondered if the gods could truly control every single little occurrence in their specialized area. Was Mars behind every violent conflict in history? Was Neptune aware of every single undercurrent and their impact on marine migration?
And then, was Jupiter aware of every bout of strong weather in the world? Especially one in a continent that was halfway around the world, in a country that proved too much bother to conquer even for the Romans.
This particular storm struck her as odd: mortals were usually quite good at predicting storms, hurricanes and the like, especially in areas where they were common. She wondered if Jason knew about it. She'd been trying to contact him for the past two days, but for some reason her calls never went through. He simply wasn't there. She'd Iris-messaged Camp Half-Blood to talk to her friends, but a harried-looking Chiron told her that they had gone, they were off to school for the year. That had surprised her. Annabeth, she knew, now liked living with her father, and Percy with his mother, but the others mostly lived at the camp. And Hazel and Frank were due back at Camp Jupiter soon anyway. When she'd inquired to Chiron about it, he just looked uncomfortable and told her he couldn't provide her with much more information; he'd last spoken to them on the day they left.
His slightly off behaviour did not go unnoticed by Reyna, who as a seasoned warrior could easily spot someone under pressure, but Aurum and Argentum did not show any sign that he was lying. He looked so stressed and unhappy, she figured the ecstasy that followed Gaea's defeat had finally worn off, and that the serious reparations Camp Half-Blood was undergoing were starting to take their toll.
Reyna herself was rarely the one to initiate contact; loath as she was to admit it, things were still slightly awkward between her and Jason. Usually, he was the one who called Camp Jupiter every two or three days to see how New Rome was recovering. No doubt as former praetor he still felt responsible for overlooking matters. But now it had been nearly a week since she'd last spoken with him, and still there was no word from the others. Frank and Hazel hadn't returned either.
As Reyna released the 'pause' button and the forecast moved to France, Spain and the Mediterranean, she started wondering if something fishy was going on. Her suspicious military mind began to put the pieces together into something she couldn't quite make out. Jason's abrupt silence, the sudden disappearance of her friends, Chiron's reticence to tell her much about it, an unexpectedly violent storm on one of the hottest days in Britain for a century... And Reyna knew of not one, not two, but three fellow demigods who could provoke such weather. It all seemed to point to one thing: a quest. And one of such significance and secrecy that Chiron had been unable to tell her, the leader of the Twelfth Legion, anything about it.
It was all very mysterious. Reyna knew the two camps had very different ways of sending their demigods off on quests; the Romans relied on formalities and auguries, whereas the Greeks tended to go "Here's your sword. Oh, and a prophecy. Off you pop." But there was never usually any need to wrap the whole thing in secrecy.
Could it be possible Jason and all his friends were in Europe, away on a quest so secret not even their allies could know about it?
Rubbing her forehead and wishing she wasn't quite so good at detecting odd things, Reyna turned off her TV set and grabbed a couple of drachma. She had some calls to make.
UPDATE: The chapter's title, Audemus Jura Nostra Defendere, means 'we dare to defend our rights'.