Chapter Text
Breeze, as gentle as lover’s caress, moved his hair around, the chariot agonisingly burning. But it was worth it. The peace, the nice feeling of sweet nothingness.
This, this calm was worth any sunburn could injure his skin and any sunstroke coming his way.
Harry Potter never truly fit into any of the two worlds. Too magical for muggles, his blood too magical for him to pass as a normal human being. From his hair growing far too fast to blowing up his aunt, he was simply not meant for that world.
His family hated him, he was too unusual for them. The part of the family they tried to so desperately ignore, wipe out.
And wizards saw him as a saviour, as someone as close to a god as a mortal could get. Someone who got rid of the big threat looming on the horizon, threatening them, their friends and families.
But he was none of those things. He didn’t get a pamphlet like the muggleborn kids, did not see any magic beside his own, the one his family called freakish.
Voldemort was gone. Truly, eternally gone and never would come again.
And Harry just lost his purpose with him. He was meant to die for the sake of the world, but he was here. Alive, tired and here.
Despite everything, he survived. He became even more of a celebrity than he was before and then defeated the biggest threat in the wizarding world of his time. It was tiring, exhausting even.
To say it lightly, the ministry was barely standing. Merlin, there wasn't even a minister as of now. The wizarding world was crumbling before their eyes and he could hardly do anything about it. Sure, he got some mail suggesting to take the minister seat, but really? Him? It was a laughable idea.
And Harry wanted nothing more but to go and enjoy his time in Hogwarts, per McGonagall's invitation.
The letter came a week after they all got safely home, to the Burrow. McGonagall’s idea, it wasn't mandatory. And even if he wanted to go home, it was frightening.
Hermione wasn’t going. That was the first thing she told him when she read the words.
“I would like to try working at the ministry,” she sighed, “Merlin knows they need it,” Taking in Hermione now, something undeniably uncomfortable stabbed him in the stomach. A while after the war ended she came back with her hair cut short, in a way that made it clear it was her own work. The dark circles under her eyes were far too similar to his own.
Ron was also looking bad. Fred’s death was weighing down the entire household and Ron was no exception. He tried to help his best friend, he really tried. But he was also doing horrible himself and then Ron stopped talking to him and he was unsure what to do.
Then there was Ginny. They broke up a few days after the battle, in no way was it as messy as Harry would expect. Thinking back to it, Ron took the information worse than Ginny herself, even if the girl insisted they were still friends. That silence wounded him deep, it stung.
Ron still refused to talk to him, insisting that Ginny was not over him yet.
And then Ginny left for the summer. For that summer camp she left every summer to, saying it was important.
Everyone was strongly against it, none of them really knew much about the camp. Nothing, to be honest. Nobody but Mrs. Weasley.
The matriarch of the family was clearly in on some secret the rest of them wasn't. She insisted Ginny went to the camp. Was almost desperate in her decision, and Harry understood himself not knowing, but he also saw the look on his friend's face anytime this camp was mentioned. And Ron wasn't alone, he once attempted asking Arthur, who knew as little as him.
Someone sat down beside him.
“Brooding, are we?” Her voice was warm, as always with that heat.
"How was camp? You seemed mad."
Ginny huffed, shaking her head as if it was so amusing to her. "Argued with some people. Just…really stressful.”
Ginny was still dressed in that orange camp shirt with a pair of muggle shorts and a bandage on her arm. “Got hurt?” He asked, studying the way her face changed. “Just a scratch.”
They fell into silence. “Percy is home,” she added, when the minutes got far too long to bear.
Harry felt her weight on his side as she settled against him, the tension rolling off of her in waves and Harry wrapped an arm around her. It was comfortable like this, even if it lacked any actual romance anymore, at least on his side.
“I don't think this is good,” Percy uttered to no one in particular, despite the two girls standing by his side.
It was a nice day till maybe an hour ago. See, when a god comes to tell you about a quest, it's normal, you know. Okay, maybe semi-normal. Well, by demigod standards. Usually, they'd tell something vague. And the quest leader would go on and pick two more people. Because three is a good number. A lucky number. Better than two, which is still better than one. One was an awful number. But that's outside of what we're here for.
What is more than unusual is…well, Percy is unsure how to put this in words. Imagine this, you're sparring with the daughter of one of your enemies, just totally chill things. Your girlfriend is off to Olympus for her architecture work and everything is nice.
But then, bam. Said father of said spar partner appears, and hand pick six of you to go on a quest. It wouldn’t maybe even be so shocking if he didn't drop you off in Scotland to apparently a magical, wizarding school, the next second in front of a very big house. And he went with them. Percy was glaring at him the entire time.
Ares, deciding to be useful for once, went to the door and knocked. Everyone was staring with wide eyes, it was mostly Percy watching the three on the field.
“To Hades,” he heard Drew whisper and the daughter of Aphrodite moved to stand by his side. “This is…but…it’s good? They’re not…weaving…” her words died out as the others turned to them. Hazel gasped behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“…not really. We don’t know why they are here…standing…” Her voice was a bit shaky. Percy nodded, taking a deep breath. They were freed from their mutual, frozen state by a new, unfamiliar voice. The second it hit Percy’s ears, the Moirai were gone, as if they were never present in the first place. Percy’s eyes were stuck on the very spot the fates were standing on for a few breaths longer and only then did he look at who interrupted the. Or maybe saved them.
It was a woman. A plump woman with the most orange hair he has ever seen (sorry Rachel), dressed rather strangely. “One would think there will finally be some free time, ah,” Her words were quiet, agitated. Ares was nowhere to be seen, and Percy assumed he was the reason of her frustration. “Well? Get inside, dearies,” she ushered them and looked around.
Nobody moved.
“Uhm…ma’am? Who are you?” Percy tried, getting and eye roll and a facepalm from both Clarisse and Drew. Piper had her hand on her dagger and Hazel looked ready to call Arion if needed.
She stopped and sighed. “Molly Weasley. Ares explained your…situation.” Her voice was warm, but the seed of blooming nervosity was unmistakable.
“Go sit at the table. We will…squeeze you in here somewhere,”
It was all so sudden even Clarisse was quiet for the moment. “Did she just say Ares explained?”
“Her surname is Weasley?”
Percy looked around his apparent quest group, ever each of them being as stuck as he was. Clarisse looked silenced by her father's presence while Drew seemed to compose herself again, sneering at the furniture. Drew was the first one to sit down. Piper was still on guard, but begrudgingly sat beside her sister. Him and Hazel sat on the opposite side of the long table while Clarisse got on the chair between him and Piper.
This was the worst possible group they could've taken. Drew didn't get along with nobody, maybe, Clarisse and Percy were after each other’s throat and it was overall strange. Likely prophesied beforehand, however nobody told them of any prophecy. A set of flying teacups landed in front of each of them and the woman, Mrs. Weasley, looked rather skittish.
“Forgive me. I wasn't expecting this.” She uttered before turning her face upwards.
“We are meant to go to a school…are you going to help us?” Hazel asked carefully, holding her cup of tea. They all seemed rightfully wary of her, but then he remembered why they were put here specifically. If her name really was Weasley, she was one of Ares’ lover and the mother of his friend. “Is Ginny here?”
She glanced at him. Then nodded. “She’s somewhere around here.”
“Why exactly would this school need us?” Clarisse spoke up from her seat and Percy could hear her barely restrained fury. The older woman watched her for a moment, her lips quirked in displeasure.
“We went through a war of our own a few weeks ago. I have no idea what else could require your help. Well, the least I can do is at least make sure you are all prepared.” Her voice was on a very sharp edge. “War?” Drew repeated and her eyes got that sharp glint of hers. “What war?” Percy’s head spun for a moment before Clarisse kicked him under the table. Mrs. Weasley didn’t have as much luck with getting out of Drew’s claws squeezing her will.
“A dark wizard has recently fallen, but some of his followers are still running loose. His plan was wiping out anyone who was not a pureblood wizard.”
Piper’s eyes looked as furious as Drew’s in that moment. Hazel also looked pretty uncomfortable, and to be fair, it got even Percy tense in the shoulders. “Did Ares mentioned anything else?” it was Clarisse who spoke up after their stunned silence.
Were they getting sucked into another war? One that they had hardly anything to do with? No. Percy wanted to refuse, he should just flip Are off the next time he sees him and leave this wretched house and never go to Britain again. Enjoy his life with Annabeth, go to NRU. Not…fight in another war. He was not ready…not so soon. Not again.
“–I will find a place for you around here.” Percy’s head shot up, his focus suddenly back onto his surrounding.
“Are you kids hungry?” She asked after another moment, a vain attempt at changing the topic.
He had serious trouble even looking at the girls around him. He would likely do something very bad, thinking about the losses and so he stared blankly at the table.