The Son of Storms 27

“Kill the half-giant’s pets, or I bury him under these very oaks.”

Even days later, Cernunnos’ words echoed in his ears, along with the sensation of rock-hard vines coiling around him, poised to crush his body in an instant in that dark clearing. Fear was not something Harry was a stranger to, and neither was mortal danger. Being a demigod, and that too a Son of Zeus, had called out some of the strongest monsters in his world baying for his blood.

For fucks sake, just a few months ago the Lady of the Moon had almost killed him, nearly incinerating him and his mind under the cold, unflinching weight of her existence. 

And yet, there was something about experiencing Cernunnos’ clear, defined threat that made it different from everything else. Oh, he knew that Hestia, and even Taranis wouldn’t let it come to pass. But there was that small percentage of doubt that surety. Back home, if Ares had not intervened, then Harry still had been about to pray to his father, and his father would have saved him, the last remaining link to Lily Evans.

In the territory of the Celts however, Harry stood no chance unless Hestia or Taranis were right by him. His demigod constitution was out of his reach, something which had afforded him a precious few seconds against Artemis, but without it…Cernunnos probably just needed to flick at his head, and he would burst apart. And the God of Wilds looked like he would do something like that, even if it started a war between the two Pantheons.

Writing the instructions that Professor McGonagall had written on the board, Harry picked up his wand and waved it in a triangle over the parakeet before him. “Pigmento Mutatio,” he muttered, changing the parakeet’s single tail feather to a bright blazing red, victory rising in his chest, before Harry saw half of it revert back to the standard green. Of course, it would have been too easy if he got it in less than five minutes.

Sighing as he reverted the rest of it too, Harry met the bird’s eyes. He would have loved to hear the bird’s thoughts about what it was being subjected to, but as usual, that was a perk that was tied to his semi–divine nature, and thus, locked away inside his soul. Though, considering none of the parakeets had really shied away from human touch, he guessed McGonagall took good care of them.

Or dosed them with a flick of confundus.

“Pigmento Mutatio,” Fred whispered next to him, and Harry turned as laughter erupted from the left side of the class. The reason? Fred had turned Cedric’s hair a bright, neon green, clashing horribly with his suddenly neon orange robes. Stiffling his laughter as he saw a shadow form over the parchment before him, Harry quickly made a show of resuming his work—just in time too, as McGonagall's sharp voice cracked through the laughter.

“Mr. Weasley,” she said right above them, and instantly, the laughter stopped across the room, though Fred continued to smile unabashed, standing up with a grand flourish, “and the other Mr. Weasley, too. What purpose do you have in doing such mischief in my classroom, despite regular admonishments and point deductions?”

“I didn’t do anything Professor,” George answered with a straight face, mirth coloring every word as he shook his head, and Harry watched a tick develop above McGonagall’s eye, her nostrils flaring as the redhead continued, “My wand just slipped when this bird tried to fly, and my spell hit Cedric, by mistake.”

“And you, Mr. Weasley?” she asked, turning towards Fred,” I assume it was the same for you as well?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Very well,” McGonagall nodded, before smiling at them, “Since you obviously need training in the usage of magic around avians, as well as careful application of second-year spells, I am assigning you to the cleaning of the Owlery. Mister Filch shall oversee at 5 PM sharp today. Mr. Diggory, I assume that Professor Flitwick has already covered the Scouring Charm?”

“Yes, Professor,” the boy replied, his hair and robes returning to normal as he gave an uncertain nod to the witch.

“Splendid,” McGonagall clapped once, smiling down at the now pale twins, victory dancing in her eyes, “That will be all, for now. Resume your practice, everyone! Those who are successful in completing the spell by the end of the class will not be getting any homework…and I might just give you a direct Exceeds Expectations on your next assignment.”

“You are going to get me in trouble,” he muttered to Fred as she moved on, pointing his wand at the parakeet, and intoning the Latin words once again, watching the barbs shift color once again, getting much better results than the last time.

“Oh come on Harry, you are going to freeze your face in a scowl if you don’t laugh more often,” Fred laughed his words off, sitting down and high-fiving his twin as well as Jordan before refocusing on him, grinning all the whil., “I reckon the gorgons would find it interesting, you replicating their stories without the whole snakes and curses.”

“Yeah…they would. Funny,” he winced, hoping to his father that the Fates were not listening in on his life. He did not have any intention of meeting the Gorgons, fell beings that they were, “Please don’t give the Fates any more ideas. My life is already at the brink of being potentially snuffed out every few months.”

“Now, where would be the fun in that, eh?” the ginger smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and despite his thoughts, Harry couldn’t help but laugh along.

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“Hey Hagrid,” he called out, brushing away the snow from atop Fang’s head as the hound rose to greet him, and Harry watched the half-giant bring down an enormous axe on a large section of oak, splitting it into two without any effort, “What are you doing?”

“Nothin much Harry,” he replied, sneezing away a shovelful of snow away from his nose and beard as he stood straight, “Just chopping some wood for the hut, and I was thinking of roasting some chickens and ferrets for the hippogriffs.”

“You have hippogriffs here?” he raised an eyebrow, looking at the whitened trees with interest.

“Aye, a whole herd of em,” Hagrid raised an eyebrow, “Want to meet them?”

Nodding enthusiastically as he remembered the figurines and sketches of the impressive animals—ones said to have been crafted by Taranis himself eons ago, Harry sat down on one of the logs and scratched Fang behind his drooping ears, “Absolutely.”

“Heh, they always do,” the half-giant laughed and raised his fingers to his lips, blowing out a whistle, alternating its pitch and loudness like a trilling call. ”Ye came at a good time too. There are no females around right now, an’ they are not that young anymore. Good for visitors.”

“Sweet,” he nodded along, “Fred and George are ruining me.”

“Oh, I say they are doing ye some ruddy good,” Hagrid chuckled, splitting open yet another log, “Been makin you smile and all and getting you ter talk to them two.”

“You say that as if I am an antisocial sociopath.”

“Nay, ye are not the Dark Lord come again,” he snorted as the sounds of sharp, aggressive cries filled the air, the sound reminiscent of eagles. “But antisocial, yes. Two friends in a class of sixty and a castle of six hundred.”

“Yes well, half of them don’t know what end of their wand to hold, so I will pass on their conversations,” he drolled out, catching silhouette forms closing in on them from the air, still high up above the Forest. “So, are these hippogryphs your pets or something?”

“Everythin’ that I feed and care for is my pet that way,” he snorted, blowing a cloud of snow off his nose and slamming his axe into the remaining wood. “Ye don’t see Fang on yer knees there?”

“I meant something special, something dangerous,” he chuckled, remembering the sleigh of chopped flesh Hagrid had been carrying into the forest. “Fang can’t be more than a decade or so old. I meant something which you have had for decades, you know? Something closer to you than any other.”

“Why are ye asking me this all of a sudden?”

“Curiosity,” he shrugged, before remembering something, “and next year I would have the option of choosing Care of Magical Creatures as an elective. I would like to know more from you about all the stuff, considering Kettleburn is nursing his wounds every second day.”

“Well, I had not had anything for decades,” Hagrid answered, craning his neck to look up as the herd of Hippogryphs circled overheard, proud, regal cries echoing in the snowy winds as the creatures slowly descended. “Most of the creatures that I would like to have as me pets are not suitable for living near children. I always wanted to have a dragon, ye know? Nothing beats that.”

“These hippogryphs?”

“Oh they are not really my pets ye know. Now, when they come ‘ere, Lower yer head, Harry, hippogryphs are proud creatures. They would not like for a stranger to look them in the eyes right away,” Hagrid warned as the giant animals finally landed a few years away from them. Standing ten feet tall at their beaks, they had the body of a horse bred for war, powerful and built with rippling muscles coated with a shimmering, polished coat of fur. However, their forequarters were that of an eagle, feathery, sharp and poised to strike with talons longer than his fingers. A crown of feathers adorned their heads, and each one sported a different shade. A single Hippogryph walked forwards, its color varying from white at its head to stony grey at its hindquarters, golden eyes staring down at Hagrid, before they flicked towards him. A shrinking trill left its beak as it snapped its face forwards, clawing at the snow-covered grounds with its talons, and Hagrid instantly came before it, raising a dead ferret. “Hey now! Stay back, ye ruddy overgrown chicken! That’s not yer lunch, this is! 

Slowly lowering his eyes and bending his neck, Harry sighed silently as he felt the gaze of the hippogryphs bear down on him, before they surrounded Hagrid and the sounds of tearing flesh and clicking beaks filled his ears. If only he still had demigod powers to call upon, he would see then what the Hippogryphs thought about him. Barring that thunderbird, no creature of the skies had ever been hostile to him, all recognising his superiority and command over them.

But as always, when he was in Britain, he was no longer just a demigod, but a wizard bound to the rules of wizardkind and the Celts. Flicking his gaze up as Hagrid came closer to him, Harry watched the first hippogryph follow the giant wizard, the leader of the herd meeting his eyes for a moment, before it slowly bent its head and flared its giant, pristine wings. “All right, now ye can stand straight,” Hagrid muttered, flinging yet another ferret at the creature, and Harry straightened at the green signal, watching blood splatter the ground as its giant, curved beak tore through the dead meat in seconds, “ye are something special Harry. Usually takes more time for them to bow in return.”

“I got them on a good day is all,” he grinned, walking a little closer to the creature, watching each feather, each flex of its muscles, each click of its beak as it tore into the ferret with awe. “They are beautiful. How much do they eat?”

“Eh, not much,” Hagrid answered, returning to the rest of the herd and petting a few of them as they nudged the half-giant with their heads, demanding his attention. “They hunt for themselves good enough, and don’t like anyone coming to their nesting grounds. This is more of a treat for them, since Buckbeak recently broke his leg, and he has healed enough to fly up to here.“

‘So these are not the creatures he was feeding that night,’ Harry felt a little better about that. He didn’t really like killing any creature that could fly, yet, the fact remained that there was something else in that forest, for which Hagrid had been carrying tons of meat.

‘And with how shifty and uncomfortable he looked, Hagrid is not going to tell it to me easily,’ Harry grimaced, walking forwards towards the creatures as the half-giant beckoned him excitedly, holding his hand guiding it to lie flat against the first Hippogriph’s flank. “That’s Cotton,” he exclaimed happily, and Harry marveled at the soft feathers beneath his fingers, “Ye can now ride him.”

“Wai—Hagrid, what the fuuUUCCCKKKKKK?!”

“They are always so happy,” Hagrid smiled brightly, before petting Buckbeak as the little animal pushed against his belly, “Ye want another ferret now do ya? I swear ye are getting too fat for your own good.”

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“You are worried about him,” she heard Chiron say, and Hestai sighed quietly as she brewed their tea, not meeting her brother’s eyes. Not when she would see a similar worry reflected in them, something of which she had had her fill for a while.

“Not only him,” she answered after a moment, the heavy silence weighing down on her thoughts, “Many things have been happening in our world Chiron. Some we are aware of, yet some are so insidious that we cannot even view them in our plain sight.”

“What do you speak of sister?”

“Many things,” she repeated, hearing Chiron move close as Apollo’s chariot sank below the horizon, “The incident with the Son of Ares, it worries me. Demigods have defected before, angered and beguiled by the negligence and carelessness of their parents or some other deity. But it has never been like this.”

“What do you mean, Hestia?” 

“Three gods were in the vicinity of where Ares’ son disappeared. Ares himself was on the site, and yet, they could not make out the energy, or even the source of what had helped the demigod escape,” she answered, turning around and pouring the tea into the cups, “A parent unable to sense their child? Unless something more powerful than them is blocking the connection between the inherited energy, nothing can stop that from happening. Faraway as he is now, and in the land of the Celts, even I can sense Harry’s soul when I look for his essence—and that is when he has not my son.”

“That is worrying,” Chiron closed his eyes, realising the weight of her words, “There are not many more powerful or older than Lord Ares, to block his sight and senses. The Titans are still in the Pit, for if they had reformed, we would have known by now.”

“That is my thought too,” she muttered, stirring the tea and looking into the swirling depths as she considered the various events happening at once, “Of the ones roaming free, only my brothers and Oceanus are more powerful than Ares, and the Titan of the Depths has been in slumber for eons.”

“Harry and Lord Ares both said that Carlos disappeared in a showy well of power, did they not?” Chiron looked at her, before his solemn gaze turned towards the heavens, “You know what the Olympus is going to make of it.”

“They are going to accuse Hades.”

“With or without cause, and the Ruler of the Underworld is not going to like it,” he commented, turning his head to look at the blank plaque on the wall, the faded symbol of Hades’ helm still visible on it. A remnant from the days when even teh children of the Dread God had been given sanctuary in the Camp, before the Council of Gods had voted him and his progeny to be outcasts.

“No, I reckon he wouldn’t. Hades may not show it much, he is just as prideful as the rest of my kin, our brothers especially,” she nodded, remembering the last time she and her siblings had been together.

Without a quarrel.

“There is another thing,” she muttered quietly, looking at Chiron with uncertainty painted on her face, “Poseidon has stopped responding to any form of contact. His kingdom is unreachable, and I have been unable to glean anything about his current whereabouts.”

“He is known to take prolonged absences from the world outside his kingdom,” her brother shook his head and took a sip of the tea, “It is not the first time that he has disappeared from Olympus and it's more obvious territories without a notice.”

“And yet, too many things are happening at once for it to be a coincidence,” she countered, “Both of my brothers raged when Harry was revealed to be Zeus’ son. Their wrath made the whole country tremble in fear, when despite being dimensions away, they both nearly affected the physical world enough to kill thousands. And now, the Son of Ares disappearing in a portal that none can trace or recognise, with an unknown weapon at his disposal.”

“Has Lord Hephaestus been able to glean anything from the weapon?”

“Ares has refused to part with it.”

“Ah, I had thought he might do that,” Chiron shook his head, a morose smile on his face, “so we are stuck here. 2 dead demigods, one absconded—which means somewhere, sometime he =is going to attack the children again. And that is without counting the fact that the Lord of the Underworld might have a hand in this, while Harry still has the orders to kill Carlos.”

“Yes.”

“We have to consider the possibility of the Great Proph-”

“I shall not, in any way or form think about the destruction of my family, the demigods and the world,” she cut across his words, firm and unyielding as she turned her gaze eastwards, “Should such a thing come to pass, then it is our shared respnsilibity to stand against the threat. But it is not correct to pin the blame and accuse someone of the world’s destruction just because his nature unsettles and upsets you.”

“Very well,” Chiron nodded, letting her words sink between them for a moment, before he gave a smile and took another sip, “How is Harry? I have been too busy to send him a letter, but I think his winter holidays are ongoing right now?”

“They are,” she nodded, smiling at the thought of the child she had never had, before anger and apprehension both burned through her eyes, “but it seems the Fates have not abated from spinning the yarn of troubles across his journeys.”

“The Celts?” Chiron asked, ever perceptive of dangers, and she nodded, watching him take another sip before he sighed, “What happened? I thought Harry understood, that he wasn’t to encroach upon the laws teh Celts have laid down for the duration of his education.”

“It was by mistake that Harry found himself before the Horned Spirit. Things were turning bad when both Taranis and I interrupted, and Harry swore upon my name that he had not been hunting in the Celtic lands.” Hestia recounted the events, remembering that chilling, desperate fear which had flashed across her thoughts as Harry had prayed to her, calling upon her name in a vow. Thankfully, the separation between Pantheons and their lands didn’t prevent prayers from being heard or responded too, otherwise she shuddered to think what the Forest God might have done. Shaking the thoughts out of her mind, she turned towards her brother and sighed, her eyes narrowing in a frown, “While I did stop him from harming Harry, the clever god has demanded Harry pay him with service for unknowingly intruding upon his domain and pets.”

“Shrewd, but the Horned Spirit never did like us after Ekrizdis and Heracles both rampaged through his domains,” Chiron reminded her, and Hestia nodded at his words. Many a times, she forgot about just what kind of a Gorgon’s nest Harry was in, either in Britain or in America, where his lineage haunted him every step of the way. Powerful monsters aside, there were the divine forces themselves, interested in making a pawn out of him, or extracting vengeance for acts committed by his half–brothers or Zeus himself.

“What has he asked of Harry?”

“To kill that half-giant’s pets, the one who tends to Hogwarts’ grounds.”

“Then it is not a big task for Harry, even without his demigod abilities,” Chiron rolled his eyes, confident and proud of his pupil, and rightly so. He had trained Harry extensively post the Son of Apollo’s death, and even now, sometimes when his busy schedule allowed for so, he liked to pick up a blade or teach her nephew about the finer intricacies of combat and his elemental energies both, “He already had a good, instinctual grasp on his magic even without his wand. I am sure he has only grown in his time at Hogwarts under Albus Dumbledore’s guidance. He is a powerful wizard, Hestia, enough that he may have even given demigods of the old a pause.”

“It is not Harry’s skill for survival that worries me Chiron,” she shook her head, meeting his eyes with her dim, downcast amber colored ones, “It is what I see in his future that does.”