Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“We have a pressing problem,” announced Severus without preamble as he swooped into the office.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, held off his usual games, put down the quill he had been using for some paperwork, and simply asked, “What is the matter?”

After all, Severus Snape, his Professor of Potions, and double-agent within the ranks of Voldemort’s Death Eaters, was not one given to hyperbole. Unless it involved one Harry Potter. If he believed the matter was grave, then it was very serious (although he never said that word, due to his teenage years with a certain Black child) indeed.

His concern rose a few notches when Severus took a visible moment to compose himself. For a man of his mental discipline, that was the equivalent of running around screaming while waving your arms.

“Voldemort has a child.”

 For the life of him, Albus had no recollection of how he came to be slumped in his chair, eyes blinking rapidly without their usual twinkle, and mouth hanging loose in shock and horror.

In four words, over a century’s worth of self-control had been robbed from him. He who was the man heralded as the Defeater of Gellert Grindelwald, Grand Sorcerer, ex-Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, ex-Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and, most importantly right now, founder and leader of the Order of the Phoenix in its opposition of the Dark Lord in question.

“What!?” he gasped out.

“Precisely,” gritted out Snape. “I don’t know the details—”

“This is a disaster!” cried Albus, shooting out of his chair. He rushed to some of the instruments he had to the side, all custom built, and scanned some particular ones for any alerts. Thankfully it appeared nothing out of the ordinary was happening. So far. “Tom has always sought immortality, but if he’s aiming for heirs now, and if they inherit even half of his power—!” He could hardly voice his fears at what Lord Voldemort, more accurately Tom Riddle, could accomplish.

“I’m not finished!” barked the spy, jolting the older man back to his senses.

He drew in a quick breath to compose himself, before turning back to Severus with sharp eyes, and a rueful expression. “Ah, my apologies for the interruption. I confess I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Quite alright given the circumstances,” Snape conceded. “I don’t know the details,” he repeated, “but apparently they were born during the previous war, and are an adult now. The reason it took him this long to find out, was because they’re a squib. So at least they won’t be as much of a threat.

“Which is indeed important, since Voldemort has already acquired them, although I’m unsure for what purpose exactly.”

Disaster. 

“Did Voldemort do this personally?” he asked, as he tried to hide his concern. “Where has he been during this?”

There was no sign Severus caught the signs of how dangerous the situation was, when he said, “He sent Lucius to handle it, along with a few others. The Dark Lord has been absent since he learned the news.” 

Allowing a grimace to show, Albus nodded. “Then he is likely off preparing a ritual. There are Dark ones he could perform on a child of his own blood. Even if they were a squib.” 

Despite what muggle fiction would tell you, there was —Thank Merlin!— no magic to be gained from sacrificing a newborn. Such pure innocence would cause a fatal magical backlash against the parent. An adult though, one who had grown and absorbed ambient magic throughout their life, was another story. This was a natural process in life, with the power only accessible through circumstances like this; drawn out through misery, despair, and the vilest of taboos. While the secrets of those rituals had largely been lost to time, and Albus had destroyed a few copies himself, it was too dangerous to assume Voldemort had not heard of them. Or even independently reproduced them. Indeed, an offspring without any magic they could use to oppose him, would be perfect for Tom’s intentions. It was even possible he could get the same results as if they were a regular wizard or witch.

“Is there any way you could free them yourself?” 

The double-agent gave a sharp shake of his head to say no. “Lucius had too many guards on her. Although obviously they are not for her safety. The Dark Lord has been gone for hours though, and may soon be done.” 

Pacing in thought, Albus worked to break the problem down, even while his wand automatically started repeatedly shooting out the Patronus Charm, carrying messages to the members of the Order. Fast as lightning he concocted various plans, except he knew he was unfortunately restricted by both such a short timeframe, and the nature of their objective.

A full-out assault on Malfoy Manor, especially an improvised one, could be disastrous. Particularly since Voldemort would be prepared. Many of his followers would be present as a precaution, including his most fearsome of Creatures.

Except, of course, Albus had no choice but to act. If Voldemort succeeded in performing a Dark ritual of such magnitude, it would be a disaster on par with Voldemort acquiring the Prophecy!

Whatever else happened, he had to keep Harry out of this!

Focus.

The child would be held at Malfoy Manor, with its formidable defenses. However Voldemort would be temporarily elsewhere, as the large estate would not have the necessary qualities, or proper location for any rituals like this. It was a full moon though, so tonight would be when he wanted to do it, leaving a short window of opportunity. He would have to rally together the Order, while also ensuring ‘Professor’ Umbridge did not notice his absence, nor that of Minerva. Severus would need a proper alibi as well, except for his ‘master’ as well. Some prank which could be attributed to the Weasely Twins? One significant enough Severus could claim he was temporarily incapacitated? Yes, they would happily take credit, and it might even serve as the distraction for the Ministry spy.

It was a distressingly hasty plan, and while he had come up with eleven contingencies for it so far, he knew in his bones that one way or another, this crisis would have a defining impact upon the future of the Wizarding World.

Wait . . .

“You said ‘her,’ Severus?”

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?” It was important to not lose focus of her as a person. “And where was she. Any other family?”

“Only a husband, I believe, in New York, America.” Severus was quite aware Albus knew where New York was. “They grabbed her without seeing him.” A mercy for the man, even if he was undoubtedly frantic right now over the fate of his wife.

“As for her name, Sally Jackson.”

“I see. Hopefully we can save her in time.”

-0-0-0-

Lucius Malfoy sneered down at the huddled, terrified figure.

Good, at least the squib knew its place before its betters. While she might be the child of the Dark Lord, it was only with her death that she would serve any meaningful purpose.

It was only a pity she apparently had had no children of her own. Otherwise they would have provided further enrichment to the upcoming ritual.

Despite her powerlessness, he and his fellow Death Eater had still tied her hands with conjured ropes, just to drive home her predicament. But honestly, the four guards on hand behind him were more to stop any attempted rescues, than to keep an eye on her.

“There is no need to worry,” he silkily told her. “Soon Lord Voldemort will finish his preparations, and you can then repay him for giving you some taste of life all these years. Your suffering will not last long. Only a few hours.”

Ah, that was a nice flinch there. Delicious. After this, he would have to go grab a few muggles for some more personal entertainment.

Although, he had to admit, that might not be enough to match the heady feeling he was feeling now though. squib or not, this was the child of Voldemort laying at his feet. There was something . . . seductive about that. Especially given how . . . atypical his Lord had been since his return.

Drawing further entertainment from her, Lucius reached down to grab her blouse, and heaved her up onto her knees. Wisely, she kept her head bowed down.

He ran his hand through her hair, relishing in the sensation of her shivering. “It is sickening,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, “to think you have our Lord’s blood in you. Doubtless he will be disappointed when he finally meets you. Somehow even more than he already is at your powerlessness. Truthfully, your fate tonight is a mercy really; I would prefer to die than be like you.”

A harsh crack of noise startled him, just as he registered a burning sensation in his groin.

Legs turning to jelly, he collapsed just in time to realize the ropes tying the prisoners wrists were cut —a slim knife on the ground— and her hands were raised cradling something which flared with fire once more, and made his chest feel strange.  

A gun!? he recognized. Of course a squib would use something so inelegant and clumsy like the rest of those who writhe in the mud! I’ll kill her for this insult! he vowed, even as his body felt strangely weak.

He saw the muggle weapon flashing more, except now it was quiet at least. For some reason, none of the other Death Eaters were stunning her. They must be waiting on his example.

But why’s it getting so dark? I need to avenge the Mal . . . foy . . .

-0-0-0-

Taking a deep breath, Sally Jackson steadily took in the sight of the dead ‘wizards’ littering the floor. Thankfully she had gotten them all before running out of bullets. Her pistol may be small enough to conceal, but that meant it did not have a lot of shots. Probably just as well, given how rare those celestial bronze bullets Percy had gotten her were.

She picked up the knife, and sucked her finger which was bleeding a little. Her grip had slipped when she was told her intended fate, and had cut herself before she finished dealing with those ropes.

A part of her remained mildly offended; they had never even searched her for a weapon. Now all she had to do was get away from here, and find the nearest teleph—

“You know—”

Sally did not flinch or otherwise react to the voice behind her, even before she recognized it. She refused to show any lack of self-control.

“—I was just about to find some way to tell you to hold on a little longer. To reassure you everything would be alright. Except I see you were perfectly fine on your own.”

Turning around, Sally gave a small smile at the individual before her, “Poseidon.”

The father of her son gave her that godly smile of his, which even now made part of her tingle. “I barely beat out Apollo being the one to be here,” he said, light and easy-going. Yet she could feel the scrutiny under his eyes. Fair enough, she doubted she had ever shown him precisely this part of herself before.

“Paul Blofis and your children are perfectly fine,” he reassured her, knowing what her first question would be. “I have to ask though, and not that I’m complaining of course, far from it, but, why the gun?”

Knowing she was not in immediate danger, she sighed. “During the Battle of Manhattan, I was nearly helpless to help Percy. I was right there, and I couldn’t help my own son in a way which truly mattered. The best I could do was grab a shotgun, and shoot some monsters.”

It looked like he was about to say something before that last part.

“Also, well, Paul found out about Gabe—” she noticed the tension between his eyes, “—he argued I should get a concealed firearm. Although he mainly convinced me by coaching it in terms of me being able to protect my children and myself.”

“Ah, I was distracted at the time with calming things down from a near war, meeting Percy, and worrying about my dear father, but what happened to that man again?” Poseidon asked casually. Despite his performance, she could still see the leviathans lurking beneath that seemingly calm surface.

Meeting his eyes squarely, she answered, “Once I no longer needed him to hide Percy, I used the head of Medusa he sent me to turn him to stone. I then sold him to pay the deposit for a new apartment, my first semester's tuition at NYU, and another deposit for a good school for my son.”

Sally delivered this without a hint of guilt, nor any concern for how he might respond.

His laughter still surprised her though, rich and loud as waves on a cozy beach.

After she patiently waited, Poseidon calmed himself down, and gave her a knowing smile. “People keep comparing Percy to me. Saying how he is my child. All the while failing to recognize how much he gets from you. Endlessly loyal to those you love, kind, and people keep underestimating you. Mistaking those traits as weaknesses, instead of strengths, and only finding out how dangerous you are when it’s too late. How intense and absolutely ruthless they can make you.”

A little uncomfortable with this line of discussion, she changed the subject. “You said I just had to wait?”

“Ah, yes. Our son and his friends will be here momentarily.”

She felt an eye twitch at hearing her darling son was heading into a combat situation again. That was not “perfectly fine!” Somehow she held her tongue though, aware the god of the sea likely had a better idea than she did of what kind of danger was involved, and what her son could handle. “Is there anything I should be worried about?” she calmly asked.

“Well,” he admitted, ruefully scratching his head, “You will have to make up some of your seven-layer dip for someone. It was the price Apollo negotiated for getting Percy here so fast. I’ll handle your trip home though.”

While the lack of ambrosia meant it was hardly nutritious to gods, she knew from experience they could still enjoy the taste of mortal foods.

“Then I’ll have to make up a batch for you as well,” she smiled, “and Apollo too.” After carefully measuring to ensure every god got precisely the same amount.

“Thank you, I’m looking forward to it,” he winked. “In all honesty though, you needn’t worry about our son. There hasn’t been such an uproar since Helen of Troy. Voldemort has no idea what he has unleashed by taking you.”

With a glance up, he added a bit rushed, “I’ve got to get going, but the cavalry’s here. Be sure to save some wizards for the rest of them.” In a sparkle of light, he was gone.

Explosions and screaming cut off any else she might have said. As those in pain sounded distinctively like adults, she was not concerned just yet.

Howling of what she assumed were wolves, the noise of many feet running even from outside, and the building rattled as a monstrous roar was cut off by several even more fearsome ones.

Not wanting to disturb anyone, Sally hid her gun again, and started to drag the bodies out of sight.

Only a few minutes had passed from when Poseidon had left, when the door slammed open with the sound of breaking wood, and four or so teenage girls barged in, weapons drawn. Seeing the bows and arrows along with the white shirts, she smiled and said, “Ah, the Hunters of Artemis! Oh, Thalia! How are you doing?” She and other Hunters dropped by now and then, and while they kept giving Paul suspicious looks, it was always a pleasant time. They would trade recipes and stories, let the girls have a hot shower (which they rarely had while on the hunt), and they were all angels around Estelle.

“Sally,” grinned the demigod in question. “Good to see you’re alright!” Taking in the bodies around them, she added, “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You know your daughter already has a standing invitation, right?”

“Yes, thank you.” It really was reassuring to know Estelle had that option available to her if she chose. “Parthenos, Febe, thank you for coming to save me too.” She then noticed how one of the ladies had two metal dogs with her, one silver, one gold. “And you must be Reyna. A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Uhm, thanks,” she answered, a little bemused, if also impressed, by the sight. “C’mon, your son’s in a panic.”

Frowning, Sally nodded and hurried out with them. “How is he?”

“He’ll be fine once he sees you,” was the evasive reply.

It was only then that Sally noticed the few small splotches of blood staining those otherwise pristine white shirts. “None of that blood is from demigods, right?”

“Oh no,” grinned Thalia in a manner Sally could only describe as ‘wolfish.’ “We’re perfectly fine.”

Reassured by that, Sally put aside Deal-With-Everyone-Threatening-My-Family mode, and thankfully went fully back to Mother-These-Children.

Coming upon an oversized foyer, they looked down a flight of stairs to a scene of carnage as an army of teenagers navigated around the wreckage of a manor, and lots of corpses.

The last few wizards standing, were wildly and desperately shooting coloured lights at her son while screaming at him. In hatred and fear of an unstoppable force of nature as he advanced by dodging around spells, or swatting them aside with Riptide.

While snarling.

Honestly, Sally was concerned at how feral Percy seemed right about now, only to be distracted as he manifested what looked like a hurricane of water which he unleashed to throw the robed kidnappers through what sounded like several walls.

“Percy!” she called.

“Mom!” he cried in joy. In a blur he was up the stairs, giving her a desperate hug, which she gratefully returned.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m here. I’m here. You saved me from the people who kidnapped me.”

“W-why did they—?”

“Something about my father? It wasn’t very clear to be honest. Nothing to do with Olympus. I honestly think they somehow didn’t even know I had children.”

Sally pecked his cheek, and then took another look around, only now processing just how many people were present.

Apparently Percy had brought a small army with him. More Hunters, at least two dozen demigods from Camp Half-Blood given the orange shirts and armour. Dozens more of what must be Romans from Camp Jupiter over there, efficiently stabbing down wizards to make sure they stayed dead. Oh, and that was Tyson! How nice. Was Nico here too?

Mrs. O’Leary hurried over, with Annabeth right beside the massive hellhound, both liberally splattered with blood. Hmm, she would have to get them all somewhere to wash up.

“Alright,” said Annabeth. “Let’s get out of here before any more show up. Leo! Set this place on fire! We need to hide the evidence. Just don’t let the trees catch on fire.”

“Roger!”

Without protest, Sally let herself be placed on Mrs. O’Leary to be ridden out of the place. Her hand never left Percy’s shoulder, reassuring him she was here.

Maybe a hotel for them to rest at? That way he and the others can get some sleep somewhere comfortable. There’s enough of them to take shifts, and I can stay up all night to make sure they’re actually getting some rest.

To Be Continued . . .

Chapter Text

Annabeth Chase was in class when it happened.

Which in itself was a miracle she cherished every day. Because growing up she had only dreamed of ever being in a school geared towards those with ADHD and dyslexia, where it was safe, and could actually intellectually challenge her.

Well, challenge her a little, but even that was enough.

So obviously it was mortifying when her cell phone rang out and interrupted the lecture.

Still not used to having one, she fumbled to get it out, ignoring the glares, amusement, and incredulous looks from her classmates and teacher. It also dawned on her that she had set her phone to block like always when she went to class, to ensure zero distractions. Only very few people were pre-approved to get a call through.

Sure enough, the name on the screen was one of those people.

“Hazel?” she said, answering the phone. Around her, all the demigods and legacies tensed at the realization one of the praetors was calling. Especially since Hazel Levesque was borderline worshipped here in New Rome by now, and everyone knew she would never call during school-time without a horribly good reason.

“Open your classroom window,” was the terse order.

Her ADHD skyrocketed with the sense of Danger, Danger, and pulled in every possible clue from her environment. In contrast, her heart settled down as the familiar feeling of some imminent threat settled over her.

She ran to the window and heaved it open, and sure enough, there was a blur racing towards New Rome University.

“Jump.”

She did.

Less than a meter down, she found Hazel pulling her onto the trusty immortal steed, Arion. The horse in question shifted his hooves, and went from running up the side of the building to down.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was hoping you knew,” admitted Hazel. “I got a call that a minute or two ago, Percy got a phone call himself on the way to class, and I know you guys have those blockers in place, so it was someone important. Especially since whatever it was, he chose to jump out a window and start running.”

Oh.

Well.

Thankfully she already knew where he was going.

“To the stables,” she directed. “He’ll be summoning Blackjack, and then they’ll be planning to fly over for me.”

He had better be, went unsaid. Except by the sound of it, her boyfriend was in a state of panic, and while he knew she did not need to be ‘protected,’ it still hurt he had not run for her first in this state.

Sure enough, they caught up to Percy in less than a minute, with the black pegasus in question just touching down beside him. Blackjack seemed uncharacteristically serious, which admittedly was hard to judge since his body language was that of a horse, and she could not speak to him like her boyfriend. Regardless, he still gave that impression, doubtless from whatever frantic summons Percy had sent to him in the pegasi stables.

Fortunately Blackjack saw them pull up, and nudged Percy with his nose, interrupting his attempts to mount their friend, and breaking him out of distraction. “Annabeth!” cried a wide-eyed Percy when they pulled up. “They took her!”

“What?”

“They took her! We’ve got to—!”

Good, even like this, he said ‘we,’ crossed her mind even as she leapt off of Arion, and pulled him into an embrace. Some of his tension melted from her touch, and he eased into it, yet they both remained at the ready. She pulled back a little so she could look him straight in the eye, her firm tone cutting through to him. “Who is missing, and who did they take?”

Fortunately, the phone she just now noticed in Percy’s hand spoke up just loudly and close enough for her to hear Percy’s stepfather talking. “Annabeth, Estelle and I just got home to find our apartment a wreck, and Sally missing. There’s also a green skull with a snake sticking out the mouth hanging over the building.”

It was like a punch in the gut for Annabeth, and even as ran through her encyclopedic knowledge of mythological lore, her lips drew back from her teeth in a snarl.

“Any other clues?” she asked in her most level tone possible.

“None.”

“Alright, we’re on it. Get to Camp Half-Blood. They can’t let you over the border, but we’ll make sure there’s demigods to help protect you.”

“Thank you,” Paul said, and hung up without preamble. Smart man.

Something in Annabeth’s face or voice seemed to be reassuring Percy, even if Blackjack was taking a few careful steps back for some reason. She pulled her boyfriend back into a hug, and whispered a vow into his ears. “We’ll get her back.”

That did the trick, as he was now finally no longer reacting in a panic. The familiar calm of a warrior settled over his face, looking now like the hero she expected whenever they were in their latest crisis. 

In any other situation, she would be deeply concerned it had taken him so long to compose himself, except she knew he still had nightmares about when his mom was ‘killed’ and taken to the Underworld. When he had had to leave her behind. This was not Tartarus, but Sally being taken again was an entirely different type of hell.

Oh yes, she could see there was anger brewing behind his eyes, but he was keeping that in check too. For now.

Thankfully, plans of her own were already formed. 

“Blackjack will take too long, and Mrs. O’Leary’s not back yet. So we need to get to the communications hub.”

Understanding dawned on her boyfriend, even if there was a slight bit of confusion. “Do you think it’ll be enough? We can just call Nico—”

Annabeth just gave him a sharp look, and leapt up on Blackjack. “You coming?”

Dazed, he followed suit, even as Hazel was already gone.

Idiot Seaweed brain. With the exception of anything to do with water or the sea, he was perhaps too honestly humble for his own good. That, or unfortunately too used to having to solve his problems on his own, or with just a few friends. 

Blackjack took off the second Percy was settled behind her. “Who would do this?” he growled from behind her, hands resting on her hips for stability and comfort. From his tones, he was still in control of himself though, and doing his own rapid, wild, and predictable planning. 

A Percy Jackson on the warpath was a terrifying thing not only for his power, but because you never truly knew how he would react and come at you.

Even worse when he had people to help him.

“Dead men,” she promised him. 

A minute later they were at one of the new pieces of construction which Praetors Frank and Hazel had championed, and Annabeth herself had designed. They had even gotten the blessing of Mercury himself for it. The small building was dedicated for the sole purpose of being able to contact every single demigod stronghold, significant individual, their allies, or whatever else was necessary, no matter the circumstances.

Especially if it was an emergency.

Hazel was already there, and sure enough, sirens were blaring, drachma had already been offered by robotic arms to rainbows made by artistic fountains of water, and a multitude of Iris Messages connected across the United States sprung up. Not only far faster than if it were done by people, but the floor to ceiling arrangement, along with careful placement of mirrors and acoustics, assured that everyone could see and hear each other. Greek designs (all hers) and Roman engineering brought together as a symbol of their newfound unity and friendship. There were even plans for more buildings like this with their allies as further signs of this new age. 

The whole situation settled even as an eagle appeared behind the trio before shifting into Praetor Frank Zhang.

Images formed:

The Big House at Camp Half-Blood.

Chiron, standing beside a satyr he had been talking to.

Nico and Will, who looked like they were talking in the Hades cabin.

The Waystation with Leo and Calypso looking concerned, half-eaten meals before them.

Piper, pretending to be talking into her cell phone to fool those around her.

The Cistern, with a male dryad yelling for the others.

Thalia and the Hunters of Artemis, out in the woods.

Grover and the rest of the Cloven Council, sitting at a park table.

All the centurions of Camp Jupiter, all geared up and in different places in camp.

Tyson and Ella in their book store.

Each and every Greek cabin counselor, with Sherman shaking Clovis awake.

Queen Hylla of the Amazons, resplendent upon her thrones.

Rachel . . . yawning as she pulled her head out from under the blankets? Must have been a nap or something.

And so many, many more. Dozens and dozens.

“Sally Jackson, mother of Percy Jackson, has been abducted by forces unknown. Will you help us find her?”

Their answer was unanimous and without hesitation.

A roar of approval and vengeance that was finer music to Annabeth’s ears than anything Apollo could play.

A look of stunned surprise played briefly over Percy’s face before he composed himself over the support for finding his mom. As much as Annabeth loved his humility regarding his accomplishments, sometimes it got a bit much. Although she also knew it was part of the high expectations everyone held for him now, that he could do anything. It was just that he had missed that his fellow demigods knew that some back-up was always nice, and they did not really expect him to do it all by himself. He had become so used to being a one-man army, on some level he had forgotten he did have an army behind him. 

Oh, he had known he had people he could count on. Except her Seaweed Brain could not comprehend just how many.

He had no idea.

None.

The problem with targeting Sally Jackson, was quite simply that it made you an enemy of Percy Jackson. A teenager whose accomplishments would take quite a while to list out, given how his patented response to overwhelmingly impossible odds were sarcastic taunts, sheer unpredictability, his own incredible power and natural skill, more sarcasm, and the sheer will to bulldoze his way to victory regardless.

Plus of course having her at his back, keeping each other alive to get that far, and with some semblance of a plan.

Oh wait, no, it was worse than that. Because you see, Percy had friends. Quite a few of them. And even more people who while not friends, were quite willing to help him out. Teenagers who he had fought alongside for the fate of the world, and were as close as family to him.

Plus, while he never really thought about it, and they would never say as much to his face, there were many demigods who felt they owed him. For saving the world a few times for instance. For ending wars and saving lives. They had not forgotten.

Those who felt they had a debt to fulfill, included quite a few demigods who had been on Kronos’ side during the Second Titan War. Teenagers and even preteens who had sworn fealty to the Crooked One, in betrayal of Olympus, for  reasons they had genuinely believed in, only to later realize when it was too late to back out, what an insane megalomaniac he was. Forced to fight against former friends and family from Camp Half-Blood, and losing their own siblings to the fighting. Only at the end of the war, a certain Percy Jackson, who had qualified as a Strategic Weapon in his own right, had sacrificed divinity . . . to ask the gods for the very rights his demigod enemies had been fighting for in the first place. The respect and rights they had deserved. To say nothing of how the rest of the pro-Olympian Demigods had followed his lead, and did their best to hold no grudges, allowing for both sides of the war to heal in a way that would be impossible otherwise.

With all of Percy’s inspirational leadership, kindness, and heroic deeds, the number of people who would come to his aid if he called for them had only grown over the years. Because they knew that he would do the same for them. Had done the same for them.

Quite frankly, in their own way, there were a lot of demigods who loved him, and would die for him.

Annabeth bitterly knew there was also all manner of opportunists who would help only because the legendary hero might owe them a favour.

No matter.

For the sake of Sally Jackson, if it became necessary she would call in the Egyptian and Norse pantheons, to Tartarus with the ramifications, if that is what it took to get her boyfriend’s saint of a mother back!

Because Annabeth was among those who were not going along only because of Percy. While she was his partner in everything, and would totally do this for him anyways, unlike most of the others she also actually knew his mom. So she was among those who would slaughter whoever was responsible simply because they liked, and even loved, the one and only Sally Jackson.

“Thank you, everyone,” Percy managed to choke out.

“Count on it,” grinned Hazel, clapping him on the shoulder in support, and speaking for the rest. “Now, let’s get planning.”

-0-0-0-

Within less than an hour, thanks to Shadow Travelling and pegassi, at the Jackson apartment were Percy, Annabeth, Mrs. O’Leary, a groggy Nico being attended to by Will, Grover and other Satyr Searchers, Lou Ellen and the rest of the children of Hectate, Connor Stoll, Argus, and everyone else they could get there on short notice who might have a chance of figuring out any clues as to what happened. Scent. Spells. Detective work. Anything!

Prayers were being sent with wild abandon, hoping for the intervention of the gods.

-0-0-0-

Up in his palace in the sky, Apollo, God of the Sun, was just finishing work on a new song when he felt the prayers of his children. Which was weird, given it was a bit too early in the day, and he had just seen them yesterday. What with him trying to be a responsible parent now. Why were they—he nearly gave himself whiplash from turning his head to look down on the Earth so fast, because Sally Jackson was WHAT!? 

Not wasting another moment, he appeared among the demigods at the trashed Jackson apartment, got an explanation out of Will, and was gone in a burst of light he was back in his palace.

Okay. Okay. Okay. He was a god. He could do this.

Where to start?

Right.

Answers.

He shot off messages for Hermes to collect, and to send to every god, and spirit there was, that he was offering a substantial reward for any information regarding the location of one Sally Jackson.

Nico would know if she had passed away, so she was definitely alive.

Poseidon tripled the reward, which Apollo had no issue with, and knew the sea god was scouring every meter of the oceans, with his people moving inland across the rivers. If she was anywhere near a body of water, she would be back in New York before you knew it.

(Meanwhile Hermes was taking down bets from other gods on how this would all end.)

(Apollo put a sizable wager of his own on her being back home and alive.)

Meanwhile, Apollo could cover a search by day, while his big sister handled the night. She was helping, right? A quick check, and she irritably told him to get back to his business, and she would handle hers for keeping an eye out. While she would never admit it aloud, she respected Percy Jackson, and also appreciated the aid his family had given her ‘stupid little brother’ while he was mortal.

Less than an hour later, they hit the jackpot thanks to an air spirit, as they received word on a possible location.

Success! They had found her!

However just before Apollo began to unleash some totally justifiable smiting, he took a closer look, and spat out a litany of curses in several languages.

Wizards!

Those little people of Hecate’s! Great. Fantastic. For as they were not purely mortals, he technically could not directly interfere.

Alright, first pass word on to the demigods. Then work out how they could get to Britain of all places to help out. Because just teleporting them all there was outside the boundaries of ‘providing guidance.’ Wanting to get the obvious solution out of the way, he shot off a note to Poseidon. While sailing with all those sea monsters was not the most ideal solution, or fastest, having his uncle provide a boat might be their only choice. Not like Percy could take a plane.

First though, who was holding Sally?

-0-0-0-

With a groan, Nico di Angelo rejoined the others in the Blofis apartment.

“Nico!” said Will, fully in Concerned-Boyfriend-Professional-Doctor mode. The son of Hades would know, since he saw it a lot.

Before answering, Nico did the prudent thing and handed a thick folder to Percy, who was practically vibrating with impatience and nervous energy. Just in time too, as the sink and walls stopped making all those rattling noises.

“I’m fine, Will, seriously,” he waved off. “It’s just it turns out dad really does not like this guy. I spent most of the time having to listen to him rant about it, with Thanatos coming in halfway to rile him up even further. Alecto had to slip me a folder on him.”

Percy was already flipping the notes, which were mercifully written in Ancient Greek, with Annabeth reading over his shoulder.

Over an hour ago, a glittering piece of paper had appeared out of nowhere, smelling of hyacinth, giving a name for the kidnapper, and what group they were a part of. With that, things had come together quickly for figuring out precisely who was responsible for this atrocity.

Lou Ellen, for instance, had a lot of handy information on wizards in general. Apparently their ancestors had received the blessing of Hecate in the past, even if the gods did not particularly pay attention to them. Granted, the teenagers had all fought mortals by this point, except it did make an important difference. The important part as far as Percy was concerned, along with Nico and the rest, was that they were not entirely mortal, and thus would bleed from celestial bronze or imperial gold.

And then Nico might be in for some family bonding with his dad with those wizards’ souls in the underworld. Helping out the Furies and all.

Because by the Fates, you did not mess with the woman who kept inviting Nico di Angelo over for Thanksgiving dinner every year, even when she knew what he had done to her son in the past. Or baked him a birthday cake!

Even Will had expressed an interest if he could come along to practice his surgical techniques on these so-called ‘Death Eaters.’ He remembered when those creeps had mocked him and his boyfriend for holding hands, and Sally had verbally flayed them into a puddle. Metaphorically. But he could totally see her doing it literally as well.

Anyways, Nico had been sure he had heard of this ‘Voldemort’ before, and with a little help from Malcom, Annabeth’s brother, he had remembered overhearing his dad mention that non-Greek name while passing by. 

“So, good news, bad news, and ugly news. First, the good news,” Nico said, “is that yes, my dad’s well aware of Voldemort, and has a lot of handy information on him. The bad news is there’s a Prophecy involved.”

He waited for everyone to get the inevitable cursing and groaning out of their system, and for Annabeth to rub Percy’s back so his muscles unlocked a little, and the plumbing did not explode.

“Basically there’s only one person Fated to kill him, and vice versa. However the other good news, is that Lord Hades of the Underworld has given us his full approval to mess up his day but good in the meantime. Stuff like destroying his armies. Resources. Sense of importance. Little things like that.”

Now everyone was looking enthusiastic, and he honestly regretted what he had to share next. His stomach clenching uncomfortably, “The ugly news is that we need to move fast. Dad . . . he thinks—”

The pipes exploded, and a whirlpool of water encircled Percy and Annabeth. She never noticed though, as the look on her face as she glared at the pieces of (dry) paper made a part of Nico want to back away from her. No small thing given what he had gone through himself. Given his reaction, obviously he had read ahead of Nico’s verbal report.

“Right. That. What Percy just read, is Voldemort is planning to kill her. With a painful, sacrificial ritual. Besides that, these people, well, they all deserve to die. They’ve done everything from littering, torture, mass murder, to destroying trees.”

Percy made an aborted movement towards the door before Annabeth caught his arm, and he stilled. The churning water circling them was nearly all white at the speeds it was moving at, yet despite the rapids roaring bare inches from her ears, she did not react. Eyes piercing, she glared through the flying water at Nico, and asked, “How much time do you need to recover to get to England?”

While others were flinching a bit from this display of power from the child of Poseidon, or Annabeth’s own demeanor, Nico was as composed as her. “Ambrosia, Nectar, and about an hour for such a long jump to get you two there,” he answered without preamble.

“Faster than Blackjack,” muttered Percy, his tone coming from a distant, dangerous place inside of him. 

If Sally was . . . hurt, England itself might not survive, the Ghost King knew. He could not say he would stop his cousin either.

She sucked in a deep breath, “And if it’s just you two?”

Everyone flinched at that, knowing how obsessive the couple were at staying together at this point when it came to danger.

“Thirty minutes.”

Nico stepped forward with the water parting to let him get close, and felt no reservation when he put a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “We’ll get her back. One way or another.”

A dangerous vow for a son of Hades, and they both knew where the line between life and death was drawn, but they were not kids this time. He was sick and tired of losing those who mattered to him!

“We’ll be right behind you guys,” added Annabeth.

In a sparkle of light, another piece of paper appeared. “Get your gear together, and get ready to move out in five minutes.”

A quick flare, and the apartment walls were pristine once more.

-0-0-0-

A few minutes earlier

“How do I get Percy and his friends to Britain in time to help!?” Apollo wailed aloud as he wracked his godly brain.

Because there were enough ‘Death Eaters’ (Hah!) with Sally Jackson to prove a threat even to the legendary hero. The last thing he wanted was for the teenager and his (admittedly very scary) girlfriend to rush off and die in a failed attempt to save Percy’s mother. All because he was forbidden from direct interference, despite having the power to literally teleport Sally right back home. Followed by raining down plague arrows on her abductors. He might even develop a particularly new strain just for them.

Right, think, think, think.

Wait.

Mother.

Hmm.

That was a terrible idea.

Never going to work.

A moment later he was in Olympus anyways, and tracking down the one person whom a year ago he had avoided whenever possible.

Hera.

Queen of Olympus, and who for millennia he had regarded as nothing more than his evil stepmother.

However, at the realization of what a horrible father Zeus was, and realizing how hard it was for her to be married to the man, along with seeing how she had been the only other god besides his own sister to be openly concerned for him as he had fought Python, Apollo had started to try and fix their relationship. Nothing major, just starting out with things like meeting for ambrosia coffee, chatting about this and that. New songs, godly gossip, how things were at the Camps, and of course criticizing various horrible dads/husbands—which was absolutely in no way a reference towards a certain god-king, no sirree! Stuff like that. Baby steps. After all, they had a few thousand years of grievances (some of which he admitted responsibility to, and were even legitimate) and bad feelings to work through. Yet he knew he had to at least try and see if it was possible.

Now though, he was desperately hoping for aid from the goddess of women, marriage, family, and above all else, motherhood.

He found her in her rooms, which were separate from Zeus’, as she was reading the missive he had sent out earlier about finding Sally. Good. Saved that explanation.

“Can you please help,” he blurted out, putting pride aside.

Surprised, she just stared at him, before laughing. “Me!?”

“You,” he flatly answered. “Sally Jackson is the mother who raised the Demigod we needed to save Olympus twice over. She embodies the sense of family you are to represent.” Seeing her blank face, he latched onto self-interest. “It would also do wonders for your reputation with the Demigods. Make them forget all the stories about Hercules, or kidnapping her son. Make them think more about how you brought the Camps together.”

An unimpressed eyebrow was his only answer. She was Hera. She owed no one apologies, and they would serve her lovingly regardless, or else.

“Come on! You can’t let someone who can bake a seven-layer dip die!”

Ah, that seemed to do the trick. Or she had always planned to help from the start, and was only stringing him along.

“I want to try some of this food,” she declared.

“Done.”

“You will write a pleasant ballad about me.”

“It’ll be a top hit.”

“Gather them together.”

Ah. An open-worded order from the Queen of Olympus. Perfect.

-0-0-0-

Dutifully Frank shoveled food in his mouth, knowing he would need fuel for whatever was to come. At the moment there was nothing more he could do to contribute to finding Mrs. Jackson, beyond being as prepared as possible. 

All of Camp Jupiter felt the tension as they ate their meal, wondering what would happen. For as short as Percy’s time as praetor had been, or as a Roman period for that matter, he had still left a strong impression upon them. Especially as they had been seeing him again after he had come to live in New Rome.

A flash of light, and Apollo, in his more traditional godly form, yet with armour, and a bow and quiver on his back, was in their midst.

“All of you who will be accompanying Percy Jackson on his quest to save his mother, full godly approval by the way, as many as you—”

In perfect sync, the Fifth Cohort stood up and to attention.

“Just one cohort,” said Frank to his girlfriend, also getting up. “For now.”

“Which of us is going?” Hazel asked. Because there was no way they were going to stay out of this. Except one Praetor had to watch over their people.

He held up a fist, and she echoed him for a quick Rock-Paper-Scissors, and it looked like his talent for tactics paid off here as he won, and stepped forward.

“How—”

A flash of light before he could finish his question.

-0-0-0-

“Bring Sally Jackson back safe,” warned Artemis as her little brother appeared to get her Hunters. While he had some wiggle-room to intervene like this, she had none. Fortunately there were some nearby monsters she could vent her frustration on.

Apollo gave a sharp salute, and was gone with Thalia and the rest. Fully armed, and ready for some carnage.

-0-0-0-

Blinking, Percy spun around, trying to figure out where he had appeared.

“All aboard!” yelled Apollo, pointing at a massive chariot which could easily hold a hundred Demigods, and to pull it were . . .

“No! No way!” he began to shout at the sight of peacocks.

“Percy, this is the fastest way,” broke in the god.

With a groan and a curse, Percy ran onto the chariot without another word.

When he looked back though, despite the urgency of the situation, he froze at the sight of dozens of Romans in full gear marching on, what looked like most of the older members of Camp Half-Blood, the Hunters, and so many more. Some he barely even knew.

 “Why’re there so many—”

“Because they care about you and your family,” huffed Annabeth fondly, giving him a light smack to the head. “Just accept it, and bake them Thank You Cookies later. In the meantime, we have some files on these wizards to finish going through.”

-0-0-0-

Before you know it, the demigods found themselves touching down outside the gates of a massive mansion which stunk of old money, and ready to mess up the people inside.

There is a reason why there are all those Greek myths about heroes who crush entire armies single-handedly.

Percy Jackson would know, he had written and published a book about that.

His mom had been so proud of him for that. And she was going to continue being proud, because he was going to save her, bring her home safe, and bake her a batch of cookies!

So here he was, leading an army of demigods kill them all, and let Hades sort them out.

Now, normally Percy would take issue with killing a bunch of mortals. However, he had read those files from Nico, and they had proven once more how humans could be as bad as any regular Monsters, if not worse. Just look at the related myths, or look at the piping hot mess which was the rest of Magical Britain. From what had been described of their state prison, death was basically a mercy compared to going there.

More importantly, these wizards had taken his mom with the intention of killing her. Slowly. All gloves were off. Percy would just later figure out how to reassure her that he was not some bloodthirsty monster himself.

Not that the enemy was laying around unaware of what was coming. In fact, he bet they had been expecting party crashers. Unfortunately for them, they had never expected the likes of them.

The first obstacle was an invisible shield of some kind in front of the manor, but the Hecate and Hermes kids had that down in a minute. So Voldemort’s people would likely know intruders were coming.

Good.

Percy and Annabeth were charging right out in front, leading the Romans straight down the walkway to the front door, along with a few others. The Greeks and Hunters spread out to the sides, where they would come into play from there.

It was a wide-open driveway, yet with lots of trees, bushes, and other fancy stuff for cover to the sides. Perfect.

As he charged forward, Percy’s ADHD came into play. Most of the time it was a pain, but even in the chaos of battle, an experienced demigod will know everything that is going on around him at any given time.

Black robed figures with skull masks came pouring out of the front door, and even more popped out of thin air. One right in front of him, only a dozen meters away.

Without stopping, Percy dodged the first coloured light, swatted the second aside with his trusty sword, and by then had closed the distance.

It almost reminded him of back when he was twelve in L.A. all those years ago. Except this time when he cut a rich brat playing at being a bad boy across the chest, Riptide cut through flesh, muscle, and bone, in a spray of red.

That was when the ‘Death Eaters’ started to realize what they were in for. As well as how badly they had chosen their names.

The wizards started to scream as arrows came out of the black night. A rain of throwing spears from the Romans.

With a roar, an oversized pond exploded, and hands of water grabbed wizards to crush those who were too far away for swordplay.

Other swordsmen and women joined the fray, and an invisible Annabeth was right beside her boyfriend, while getting her quota in as well. 

The couple were also joined by a 13-year old girl in a pink dress with twin swords, who Percy had once overheard being described as having the soul of a gardener, and the heart of a Klingon.

(Like Apollo, Meg McCaffrey had not forgotten the kindness Sally Jackson had shown her, and treasured it as much as the god.)

At first the wizards put up a stout defense, firing a variety of different colour spells, and some altered the ground to try and destabilize the Romans, or animated trees and rocks to attack. Except those ones were quickly singled out and eliminated, and their spells died with them.

Now some wizards were trying to run, except Lou Ellen activated a last minute, magical gift from her mom, which put up an 'Anti-Disapparition’ spell, or something like that.

The Demigods did falter at one point when these floating creeps in big, more tattered black robes appeared, only for Will to rip off his shirt and become a glowlight which drove them away.

Or rather, herded them away, right towards Nico, who cut them down with ease with his sword.

While laughing.

It was at this point the Death Eaters started to really yell and scream, and pull out all their trump cards.

A whole horde of animals came around from the back, snarling and howling, fangs and claws glinting in the moonlight as they bore down on the teenagers.

“Werewolves,” Annabeth coolly noted. “Or the wizard version at least. Bad luck. Voldemort needs the full moon for his ritual, so he knew they would be available. Thalia speculated they might have access to a potion which lets them keep their Human wits and intelligence to go with their animal savagery.”

“Yeah, bad luck,” Percy grunted, decapitating another wizard.

“Indeed. For them,” she dryly added.

“Now?”

“Wait. Now.”

Bringing his fingers to his mouth, Percy let loose a piercing New York taxicab whistle, and from the shadows right before the werewolves burst forth his favourite hellhound.

A slathering black beast the size of a rhino, but even stronger, born from nightmares, and a veteran of too many wars. Mrs. O’Leary.

Her striking paws sent broken bodies flying, and her jaws ripped her prey in two. Desperately the werewolves surrounded her as a pack, biting and scratching for their lives, only to not even scratch her.

Around her, arrows flashed through the night with pinpoint precision, each felling a wolf with a single shot.

Friendly wolves rushed from the trees, the personal companions of the Hunters of Artemis, to help pick off even more.

Within less than a minute, the Hunters and children of Apollo were picking off the few werewolves that managed to escape Mrs. O’Leary and her new allies.

The rest of the demigods never even paused in their advance, as the Greeks advanced passing from shadow to shadow.

Shining with imperial gold, the Fifth Cohort advanced, shields locked. An obvious target for the Death Eaters while they ignored the rest of their enemies to their great peril. Spells glanced off their shields, and they advanced with a sense of inevitably which had them quickly backing the wizards up the steps into the manor, and whenever one got too close, a sword would dispatch them with lethal efficiency.

A bellow shattered the night to challenge them though, as two giants lumbered around from the back, both hefting a massive oak tree as a club. Stomping forward, one made to swing its weapon at the rows of Romans.

The soldiers glanced at the threat, only to ignore it as they kept advancing. It was handled.

After all, they had unshakeable trust in two men who were, in Percy’s humble opinion, two of the finest military leaders of this generation.

With a wordless cry of fury, General Tyson grew to his full height so he was looking one giant right in the eyes. The massive figure stumbled back in shock, trying to raise their tree, while Percy’s brother brought down his ‘stick,’ commissioned by Zeus himself, and outright struck the giant’s head off with the oversized club.

Gone was the cheerful, friendly, and talkative cyclops everyone knew, replaced only by the tranquil fury of a good man pushed too far.

The other Giant was either too bloodthirsty, or too stupid, to pay attention to Tyson, and kept charging towards the Fifth Cohort.

A screeching roar shattered the night as a raven shifted and grew to become a massive dragon. Claws like swords raked the Giant’s face, drenching the lawn in blood. Screaming the giant stumbled back away from the legionnaires, giving the drake the space necessary to take a deep breath and unleash an inferno of death.

Satisfied, the scaled monstrosity shrunk down into a young, solid, Chinese-Canadian boy with a purple cape.

Praetor Frank Zhang rejoined his troops without comment.

With increasing desperation, some of the Death Eaters had the presence of mind to shoot from the windows of the upper floors, only to be strafed by a golden figure.

The metal dragon Festus flew at the window, tearing open windows to gut the rooms within. Spells ricocheted off his metallic hide, while Leo unleashed precision bursts of fire. Beside him was his girlfriend Calypso, whose sorcery finished off the rest by unleashing walls of wind to slam them into and through walls hard enough to crush bones to paste.

By this point the Demigods had reached the doors to Malfoy Manor, and Percy was already shouting for his mother.

-0-0-0-

Some of the Death Eaters foresaw the inevitable, and were already running. Although they tried to tell themselves it was only to get their Master, who would surely understand their ‘strategic withdrawal.’ Along with them were some of the newest initiates, who were realizing this was not what they had signed up for. Most Death Eaters were recruited from the richest, most traditional families after all, or the criminal dregs.

So they went out the back doors to escape, fleeing among the peaceful trees surrounding the place.

Grover Underwood, Lord of the Wild, was waiting there for them there, all those tree burners, and animal abusers. Him and a few dozen other satyrs. They may be a largely peaceful race, yet the likes of Gleeson Hedge were the extreme, not the exception. They would play their part for a good friend and ally, and to stop these transgressors against the Wild.

He strained against the raw emotions he felt through the empathic link he had with someone who was more than just his friend, and more of a brother. Grover wanted to be there with Percy, to help him through this horrible situation. Unfortunately duty was a harsh mistress, and he understood why he was best suited for this job, and had to trust in Annabeth to handle things. Even if he could not help save a woman he considered every bit a part of his own family.

No wizard escaped the woods.

-0-0-0-

Inside, the lavish Malfoy Manor was quickly becoming a slaughterhouse.

With trained precision, the Fifth Cohort under Centurion Asimov tap danced and redeployed to become a stretching wall of death. Individual Greeks spread out and wreaked havoc across the rooms.

While this was happening, Nico and Thalia were leading teams throughout the rest of the mansion to find Mrs. Jackson. Or “Sally” as she had insisted they call her when Nico dropped by whenever he could think of an excuse, bringing Will with him. Or the Hunters who were also regular guests, as a way for Artemis to express her gratitude for helping her brother. It provided a sense of warmth and the hearth they appreciated, and in turn ensured that for at least those nights, the Jackson family would have no cause to fear for monsters.

All of this flashed through Annabeth’s mind as she took in the situation. Clearly they were winning, and without any serious injuries either. Suffice to say, Annabeth now held a pretty low opinion of these Death Eaters.

Her sword of drakon bone gutted one wizard, and switched back to slit the throat of another.

Despite their reputation, these Death Eaters were clearly not as great a threat as they thought they were. They relied upon terrorist tactics, and too much on those green spells of theirs, which could be dodged, or just deflected with celestial bronze, or imperial gold.

Only a handful had appeared to be real threats, and they had all died in the first few minutes of the fighting, before they could properly adjust to the invasion.

Most of them by being crushed beneath the feet of the unstoppable juggernaut who led the demigods.

The most terrifying invader of all, her Seaweed Brained boyfriend, Percy Jackson.

He fought like a demon, drenched in the blood of those who came before him, yet he did not notice as his warrior instincts took over, and he vented a wrath which carried all the fury and mercilessness of a hurricane.

Waves of water appeared seemingly from thin air to smash into groups of wizards. Riptide blurred as spells were deflected, sometimes right back at other wizards who died without a mark. Torn and battered bodies were left in his wake as he advanced. Without seeming to even pay attention to them. He only kept yelling for his mom. 

Not even Kronos had managed to provoke Percy to the point he dropped the snark.

Whenever a Death Eater thought they had the drop on the Hero of Olympus’ back, they would be cut down by his invisible girlfriend. In the carnage and chaos, the drops of blood dripping from her sword went unnoticed. Calculating grey eyes always aware of the situation, Annabeth took care to whisper suggestions to Percy, to make his destruction all the more complete.

Yet even as she danced around her boyfriend, always watching his back, she knew this was different than when they were in Tartarus together. This was not him lashing out in pain and anger, and trying to hurt people, this was him desperate to save someone he loved, and doing so the only way he knew how.

After all, Perseus meant “the avenger,” or “destroyer.”

-0-0-0-

Percy hardly registered the people falling down before his blade and power. His body moving on reflex in response to threats, while his whole being was straining for any sign of his mom.

He had to find her. He had to find her. She was alright. She was alright. This was his fault. He just knew it was somehow his fault. One of his enemies set this up, and it was all his fault and he was going to—

With a particularly savage gesture he threw more wizards around with water, barely noting how they put more holes into the walls.

There was a beat of silence as he registered they were the last Death Eaters there, and then he heard her.

His mom.

Calling his name. His head snapped up to see her at the top of the staircase to the floor above.

She was alive! They made it in time! 

His demigod senses automatically assessed every detail of her. How she looked, her body language, and a thousand other little details he had grown up with to confirm it was really her. Moreover, despite her captivity, he could not see a mark on her. 

“Mom!” he cried out, and next thing he knew he was enveloping her hug, desperately praying for her to be real.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’m here. I’m here. You saved me from the people who kidnapped me.”

“W-why did they—?”

“Something about my father? It wasn’t very clear to be honest. Nothing to do with Olympus. I honestly think they somehow didn’t even know I had children.”

What?

Nothing . . . he was . . . it was . . .

But she had just seen him—!

She kissed his cheek, and he felt everything from the last few terrifying hours just wash away.

Dimly he registered everyone else coming up to them, and it seemed like the fighting was over.

“Alright,” said Annabeth. Ever practical, ever level-headed, ever brilliant Annabeth. “Let’s get out of here before any more show up. Leo! Set this place on fire! We need to hide the evidence. Just don’t let the trees catch fire.”

“Roger!”

Yes, yes. With Grover and Meg and the others they could do that, he dimly knew.

Still, he could not just sit around. He led his mom to Mrs. O’Leary, trusting her to get his mom to safety in case anything else happened. A part of him was about to go check for any wounded, but Sally’s hand rested on his shoulder, and he could not bring himself to go.

Thankfully Frank had it all handled.

Annabeth gave a few more orders herself, and then came up to hold his hand. “See,” she grinned. “It all worked out.”

“Is there a place for us to all stay?” asked Sally.

“We’ll work it out,” promised The Most Awesome Girlfriend. “Just far away from here. We’ll need to call in some cabbies. Once we figure out where exactly we are.”

“Poseidon stopped by. He said he was handling our route home, so we should head to the nearest port city I guess.”

A warm feeling filled Percy’s chest at the knowledge that his dad did indeed still care about his mom. Well, he had already known that, but the reminder was still nice.

“I trust you and the others to handle it,” smiled Sally. “I knew I could count on all of you. Thank you.”

A slew of bloody, heavily armed demigods made embarrassed murmurs about how it was no trouble at all.

A part of Percy was still flummoxed at how many had come, yet he could definitely believe that his mom was so loved. He was also grateful to have such great friends in his life.

A family.

There were days when as a demigod, the best you could do was grit your teeth and survive the day. Then there were days like this where you were bursting with pride.

Sally gently added, “Although I do recommend we find someplace where you can all wash off . . .”

To Be Continued . . .

Chapter Text

The members of the Order of the Phoenix were almost all assembled together at #12 Grimmauld Place when they got the news.

It had been necessary to risk bringing them together, so as to stop Voldemort from sacrificing his squib daughter in a Dark ritual. Albus Dumbledore had only just finished briefing those able to attend , when the fireplace lit up with the floo, and a familiar face was framed in the green flames. Indeed, it was one of their own members who had not been able to arrive.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the Ministry's Aurors, "Director Bones would appreciate your presence at Malfoy Manor. There has been an incident, and we would appreciate your expertise. Retired Auror, Alastor Moody is already there as well."

Stepping forward from the group, and kneeling down in front of the flames so his face could be seen, Albus genially said, "Why of course. Just give me a minute to let Minerva know where I've gone. There's always a lot going on here at Hogwarts." There, that should handle any eavesdroppers at the Ministry.

"Of course. Thank you, Headmaster," said Kingsley with a respectable nod, and disappeared from the fire.

With that settled, Albus turned to face the other wizards and witches in the room, all of whom were rightfully concerned.

"Malfoy Manor!" gasped Molly Weasley, "What could have happened!?"

"Especially to have them bring in Moody and Professor Dumbledore," her husband Arthur added. "They've been smearing the Headmaster for months, and I doubt Fudge would want Moody back like that. He was one of the ones glad to see him retire from the Aurors. Not to mention Malfoy and his ilk."

"Well, now we know why Mad-Eye didn't join us here," said Sirius. "Not like him to pass up on the chance to raid Malfoy Manor ourselves."

"Wait here and await further instructions," said Albus. He looked across the room to Professor Minerva McGonagall, "Return to Hogwarts. Even with the distraction we set up, I don't know how long I'll be gone, and Umbridge might try something while I'm officially absent. Also see if she reacts to this new development in any way." She gave a crisp nod and used the floo to leave.

With that settled, and the Elder Wand in hand, Albus apparated to what he wagered was a safe distance from his destination.

Even at that distance he could see the ancient mansion ablaze.

He suppressed the urge to rush over, and calmly made himself invisible before taking a gentle stroll, taking the time to perform a few discrete spells, and to fully take in this mystery as he approached. There were various clues to catalogue, such as how the lawn was suspiciously immaculate except where the Aurors were leaving footprints. While he saw signs of spell damage which must have come from those within the manor, he saw no signs of who was responsible for setting it on fire.

Once he was close enough, and noting no one was looking in his direction, he revealed himself right behind a nervous Minister of Magic. With a warm, helpful tone which would carry to others around them, he said, "Why, Cornelius, what is all this?"

With a gasp, Cornelius Fudge jumped in the air, whirling around in a shock before snarling, "Dumbledore! What're you doing here!?"

"I was invited." Before anything else could be said, he continued in his calm tone of voice, and asked, "Is Lucius Malfoy alright?"

Still pale, Cornelius sucked in a breath, and sourly said, "We don't know." Whipping around, he barked, "Director Bones, what is the meaning of this!? Why is he allowed to contaminate the crime scene!?"

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement only returned an impassive gaze, which largely hid the frustration and hint of fear behind it. Albus was confident Cornelius missed it, yet was now even more concerned about the situation. Anything which could ruffle Amelia Bones so much . . .

"Because I invited him," she flatly answered.

"Invited—!?"

"Minister!" she snapped over him. "We are looking at more bodies than we've seen since the War! Within the burning mansion of a respected citizen. We don't know who they are yet, since their bodies are too badly burned to a crisp, but we've also got what appears to be nearly every werewolf in Britain dead and thrown into the bonfire too! At least the unregistered ones!"

Albus did nothing to stop his eyebrows from rising at every word.

"And I honestly don't know what's more concerning, the corpses of two Giants over there—"

Oh, so that's what that is, thought Albus, throwing another look at the mound of still-smoking bones to the side. The angle had been bad for him, until he knew what to look for.

"—Or the pile of what looks a lot like empty dementors' cloaks, away from Azkaban! So yes I'm bringing in Britain's most knowledgeable and powerful wizard!"

A chill went down Albus' spine at the last. The previous two accomplishments were unquestionably impressive in themselves, but to kill what had supposedly been immortal!? How was that possible!?

"Have you done an independent accounting of Azkaban?" he briskly asked, acting totally in control of himself. Obviously Tom had taken some with him when he had broken his most devoted followers out of the prison, or shortly afterwards. Lucius would have handled the cover-up.

For now he held off on the ramifications of every implication that someone had killed Dementors. That was too big and terrifying for the Minister, and would distract him too much.

Thankfully, even though Cornelius was about to bluster again, the Aurors and other officials who had gathered around them appeared heartened by his performance. Amelia even spoke over the Minister again. "I sent some people, and I haven't heard back yet."

"I see."

He took another critical look at the still-burning Manor, despite the Aurors desperately using water charms to try and put out the massive blaze. It was tempting to go help out, except he dared not leave. This was the perfect opportunity to pressure Cornelius into taking appropriate action against Voldemort. Albus had warned the man that Tom would be recruiting Werewolves, Giants, and Dementors, only to be ignored. Only now for them to all be present at Malfoy Manor, a man who was supposedly 'innocent' of ever being a true Death Eater. He had to strike while the iron was hot, or the Minister would delude himself into thinking all remained fine in his perfect little world. Fortunately, there appeared to be ample evidence present to help chip away at all that.

Before he said anything though, something else caught his attention. "Curious," he mused loud enough to be overheard.

"What!?" snapped an irate Cornelius.

"Despite how the entire manor is ablaze, the fire never reached the trees."

Amelia, Cornelius, and the Aurors within earshot took another look, and saw how despite the massive size of the flames burning the house, there was not even a scorch mark on the surrounding grass. While not an impossible occurrence, it was certainly a strange one. Especially with such a massive blaze.

"Whoever did this, wanted the fire confined to only the building itself, and the Giants, to cover their tracks." Quickly shifting topics to keep Cornelius off-balance, "How many Human bodies have you found? Were they wizards?"

"At least thirty," grimaced Amelia, "probably more, and we don't know. It looks like they were the first to be set on fire, and all dumped together in a pile."

For wizards, with their small population, that was a very concerning number.

"And what do you know of this, eh Dumbledore!?" spat Cornelius. "Were you responsible for this!?"

With a sigh, he shook his head, projecting an aura of disappointment. "I have never been capable of such violence," he lied, trying not to think of his foolish youth.

"Well, who else could be responsible for such a travesty!"

"Voldemort for one," he riposted without missing a beat. "Only I doubt he would kill his own followers, and there is no Dark Mark overhead. So who else it could be, I honestly have no idea."

Except Albus prided himself on being familiar with every powerful magical organization and individual on the planet.

Except there had been one other unexpected incident which he had learnt about earlier this night.

I didn't know until now about this Sally Jackson, and within less than twenty-four hours of her abduction, Voldemort's forces have been nearly . . . well, exterminated.

He very much doubted it was a coincidence.

While he ignored Cornelius' barely-coherent accusations of his 'delusions,' Albus discretely assessed the reactions of Amelia and the other Aurors. With the evidence of so many Dark creatures and a Giant at Malfoy Manor, he could see they were starting to believe him. Good. A little more, and they should start to be convinced.

"Minister!" broke in a young voice, as Percy Weasley hurried over, waving a piece of parchment.

"Yes, what?" said the Minister, shaken out of his accusations.

"I called around to friends of Mr. Malfoy," the newly appointed Junior Assistant to the Minister for Magic dutifully said. "Sir, a lot of their wives were at the same party Mrs. Malfoy was at. They weren't cooperative at first until I told them there had been an incident on the Manor, at which point several of them admitted their own husbands and other family members had been present tonight. These are the ones I've accounted for so far."

Once more Cornelius paled as he read the list, and without looking at it, Albus knew several prominent Pureblood families had been frightfully reduced. The political backlash of that alone would be unprecedented, and without their support, Fudge could find himself out of a job. To say nothing of how he had just lost the main source of his bribes.

"I, uh, also got Mrs. Malfoy a Calming Drought back in the Ministry, so she can settle down," Percy managed, wanting to offer some good news. So that was how the Ministry had found out about this. While it was possible she was witness to what had happened, except given the state of her home, it was more likely she had been out seeing her lady friends, only to come home to fire and blood.

With a little luck, and his usual skill, Severus can take advantage of this. Draco and other young Slytherins will be less enthusiastic to join and fund a cause which killed off their parents. They are not expecting to have to actually suffer in a 'righteous war for their way of life.' Of course, he'll have to work quickly to ensure Tom doesn't try to sway them with tales of avenging their families.

During this, three more men approached from the direction of the former manor. One was Kingsely, and another was Alasator 'Mad-Eye' Moody, with his magic eye spinning around wildly. Doubtless trying to tell if whoever was responsible for this was around and observing. The third member was John Dawlish, who had been an excellent student, and by all accounts was Cornelius' favourite Auror for his dedicated loyalty to the Ministry.

"Ah, Dawlish!" said the Minister with relief. "Have you found out who was responsible for this yet?" He shot a sharp eye at Albus. "Who planted those beasts on the property of an upstanding citizen?"

John's face was a carefully neutral mask as he reported, "Sir, I regret to inform you there is evidence the Giant and Werewolves were present before tonight, and had even been living on the premises."

Overruling Cornelius' sputtered denials, Alastor limped forward. "Albus," he growled, "we need a second opinion. What do you make of the spells and magic here abouts?"

Raising an eyebrow in curiosity, Albus wove his wand first for the standard detection spells for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. No surprises there, everything looked good for what the Aurors had performed, and—hmm . . .

More spells of increasing complexity and obscurity, until they were unrecognizable to anyone else present. Finally, "I will only be able to hold this spell for about twenty seconds, so I need everyone to watch carefully."

With a wordless incantation, and many precise movements of his wand, gold mist shot out of it in a customised variant of a tracking spell, coating the entire front lawn and manor itself. A vile, purplish aura hovered over the household, while specks of multi-coloured light could be seen elongating from it.

Twenty-one seconds later the spell dissipated, and Albus was thoughtfully stroking his beard, "Well, well."

"What!?" barked Cornelius, hating to be kept in the dark, especially since all his Aurors seemed to know what was going on. Even Percy appeared pensive, the bright lad apparently having grasped the essentials.

"Whoever assaulted this place, and killed all those fine, upstanding wizards, and the giants, and the werewolves, and the dementors, did so without any magic I can recognize. Indeed, as far as I can tell, they performed no magic beyond an Anti-Disapparition Jinx."

The Minister's jaw dropped down, and no one knew what else to say.

Needing to hold the initiative, Albus looked to his old friend, "Alastor, what else have you found."

The scarred and battered warrior was hiding his own growing concerns, and Albus could only hope he was doing just as well. Alastor hated Dark Magic users, and had killed them before, yet it was no surprise even he was shaken up by the sheer scale of this.

Offhand, the only two he could think of who could have accomplished all of this were Gellert Grindelwald, and Tom Riddle. Except both of them were known more for their sense of dramatics, boldly displaying their feats. This had been done quietly, with little to no evidence left behind. Someone both mighty and subtle, and if crossed, very much to be feared.

With a sigh, Alastor gruffly said, "It's hard to tell from how the fire's destroyed the corpses, but, Albus, it looks like most of them died by muggle weapons. Like, swords and sticks."

What.

"Preposterous!" exploded Cornelius. "The very idea! Wizards and such foul creatures dying like that! And not even to firelegs! You've truly gone crazy! Dawlish! Shackelbolt! I—!"

With a pained expression over his usually stoic face, Kingsely raised an apologetic hand. "Sir, I looked at the bodies as well, and to all appearances he's right. There are dozens of them too, to look at, sir." He was definitely emphasizing the formality to keep Cornelius listening.

"And sir, we still can't find any evidence of any spells done. We don't even know how many were involved, or why."

Except Albus knew the answer to the latter question. By now he knew right down to his bones. From the very start, one of the possibilities he had entertained was that this was related in some way to Sally Jackson. At each new 'impossible' revelation, he became increasingly sure it was, and he hoped for her sake it was a rescue mission, and not a raiding party.

Apparently she was more than 'just' a squib like he and Severus had so optimistically assumed.

An increasingly green Cornelius was rambling off increasingly weak denials, and Albus was grateful Dolores Umbridge had been assigned to Hogwarts. Her presence might have otherwise bolstered the Minister's spine and delusions.

Fortunately, it appeared Amelia had things well in hand to independently get Cornelius to recognize something was Very Wrong in Britain.

Quietly he left the group, so as to not risk Cornelius continuing to dismiss said points by association. He would be doing his own follow-up of course, but for the immediate moment it was best he took a step back from that particular part in all this. Instead, he went closer to the manor where the rest of the Aurors were finally dousing the last of the fire.

"Hell of a night," muttered Alastor, stomping up beside the Headmaster.

"One which will echo across Britain for years to come," nodded Albus. "There's no way Cornelius can keep this quiet, and Voldemort's power structure has taken a massive hit."

"What's the plan now?"

"Severus will work to convince Draco and his fellow students to stay out of the war, while also learning of Voldemort's reaction. After he has had a chance to cool off."

With a snort, Alastor gave a grisly grin, "Voldemort might be so angry after tonight he'll kill off some more Death Eaters himself."

"We need to determine which ones are still alive," warned Albus. "Particularly Bellatrix. In the meantime, we continue to guard the Prophecy and Harry."

Alastor spat at the ground, "I'd rather go on the offensive after a loss like this."

"I understand your reasoning," confessed Albus, "but there are several reasons for this." Seeing as how his old friend was more aggressive and independent minded than the rest of the Order, to say nothing of how at first glance it appeared they had a golden opportunity to take down Tom, he elaborated with parts of the overall truth. "First, we need to know where Voldemort will retreat too. He will also be more paranoid than ever. Unfortunately, at the same time we don't want him to feel so pressured as to retreat from Britain all together. He waited decades to make preparations before the first war, and we don't want him to do so again, even more powerful than ever. If he stays here, we have a chance to finish him. Such losses may also encourage some of the remaining Death Eaters to defect like Severus did, which we need time to safely arrange. Finally, before we take any action though, I would also rather ensure we have a Minister of Magic," likely not Cornelius for much longer, "who will be supportive of our actions. We will save more lives that way."

Most important though was the issue of the Prophecy with Harry, and Tom's growing instability. Only Harry could vanquish the Dark Lord for good, except he was unsure of what kind of madness he would act upon. The game had changed, and Albus had to learn what he could to properly adapt so as to save as many lives as possible.

With a grimace, Alastor considered this, and gave a reluctant nod. He would play along for now. "Albus, your pet snake can't go back after this. By the looks of it, he and the widow Malfoy are the only possible leaks left to bring this down on the Death Eaters. Doesn't matter if they're innocent, he'll still kill 'em."

With a sigh, Albus gave a short nod. "Agreed. It's much too dangerous for him." Which was a problem, since his plans had been rather dependent upon Severus' talents as a double-agent. After tonight though, he would reach the same conclusions as Alastor, and refuse to return to Tom on what he considered a guaranteed suicide mission.

Voice dropping another octave, the former Auror asked, "Any idea at all who did this?"

A frown escaped him, and he admitted, "A suspicion. I'll fill you in later, but there was a high-priority prisoner here from the United States. I was assembling the rest of the Order to try and rescue them. It is too much of a coincidence."

Alastor considered this as well, before giving a grunt and stomping off. Doubtless he would grab a few more Aurors for another search around the perimeter, while dispensing advice. Under the cover of that, he would also sound out those men and women with more discretion than many would think him capable of.

Meanwhile, the Headmaster was left to his own thoughts.

A part of Albus itched to try and contact these mysterious people, and recruit them to the cause of stopping Voldemort for good. Obviously their help would be invaluable.

The better part of himself took another look at the large number of burning corpses, and estimated there had not been a slaughter like this since Grindelwald's time. Or longer. It was more the sort of casualties you expected among muggles than wizards. At best, the Order would be approaching such people as junior partners.

No, better to put out discrete, yet very polite feelers to get a feel for their intentions. Ask if they have any information they might be willing to share. If they do not want to get involved, leave them be back in America.

Leave them be.

-0-0-0-

High up in the sky and invisible, Lord Voldemort looked down upon the ruination of his army and headquarters.

He seethed with the urge to swoop down and kill that meddling old fool, except he knew how dangerous Dumbledore was. Not to mention this would be the absolute worst time to expose himself before so many aurors. Particularly since he was sure that was the Minister over there. To say nothing of how he had no idea who was responsible for this.

There was none in Britain with the spine, nor the entire Wizarding World. Or at least the known Wizarding World. Whatever had happened, it must somehow be related to his daughter. A part of him was surprised to feel actual pride in someone else. Surely she must have broken free and done all this herself? Or had others come to her rescue? He did not know.

No, he would bide his time for now.

It was also imperative that he solidified the loyalty of his remaining Death Eaters, to say nothing of increasing recruitment while still staying hidden. Doubtless some potential members like the Malfoy boy would get cold feet, yet Lord Voldemort would drag him and his vault of gold to glory whether he liked it or not. Either alive, or as a martyr for the cause.

For the cause of the true destiny of Lord Voldemort.

Yet despite all of these grandiose promises, and the bubbling, unyielding wrath, he could not deny the fear clutching at his heart.

-0-0-0-

In Sally Jackson's personal opinion, the hotel staff had received them with remarkably professional aplomb.

Oh, the Mist would excuse the weapons and all the blood they were coated in, yet they never even blinked at the sight of a single woman escorting in, or being escorted by, a veritable army of teenagers. All while the sun was just starting to peak above the horizon.

Frank Zhang (there are so many people she is glad to finally meet in person) had apparently made some calls ahead, and several floors had already been put aside for them all. Including an additional floor above and below for traps and patrols against monsters.

While England was not the ancient lands, it had been the center of Western civilization at one point, and thus hosted Olympus. So there was indeed an unfortunately healthy monster population about.

The hotel staff had been firmly instructed to only appear when called, had gone out to buy enough pajamas and spare clothes for everyone in various sizes, and were all heavily tipped in compensation.

All the food delivered was dyed blue too.

She has to hold off saying what she wants to say to Percy and Annabeth though. Because she wants some privacy, but also needs the right time to say it. Especially since they have to make sure everyone is properly and safely settled in first.

Once their floors are sealed off, she notes how all the demigods are looking at her from the corners of their eyes, adorably trying to be subtle about it.

"So," she said, clapping her hands together, and addressing the crowd. "I understand this is when you all party?"

The ensuing screams of joy are music to her ears. Even if she can hear how much of it includes "We won a battle, and none of us got killed!"

She was tragically aware how rare it was when they could have such a blessing. Too rare.

She also spotted some who were still shaken by what happened tonight. Not surprising, as she had seen some of that after the Battle of Manhattan. As part of their heritage, how the very purpose of demigods seems to be warriors on behalf of gods, and their generally harsh upbringings, it all tends to leave them rather desensitized to violence. However even that has limits, and she could tell that some of them are rather shaken by having to fight mortals, however irregular, tonight.

Or was it last night now?

Thankfully, Frank, the two centurions, and some of the other older teens appeared to also be keeping track. As well as tracking those who had too much fun in the fighting.

"Easy there," said Frank, and instantly every Roman silenced themselves, and paid attention. The Greeks promptly followed suit to figure out what was going on. She was honestly impressed. He would have made an amazing teacher. "We've got a lot of demigods here to attract monsters. First we double-check security, and set up guard shifts. Then we party."

The teenagers quickly broke up into well-practiced groups, and went their separate ways.

Frank gave them a look, before turning to the remaining, and apparently senior, centurion, who had pink hair. "Lavinia. Confirm with Camp Jupiter that the all-clear was passed along to everybody else. Then make your rounds."

"Yes, boss," she said with a crisp salute, and tap-danced off.

"There isn't going to be too much alcohol, is there?" asked Sally.

Annabeth snorted, and Frank shook his head quickly. "Oh no. Definitely not. Uhm, personal tastes aside, it's been carefully restricted for about a hundred years. Barring some carefully regulated wine for particular ceremonies. Reyna didn't go into details, and I don't think she knew, or wanted to know, what exactly happened, but basically there were enough incidents in the past that the senators and praetors of the time put their feet down about it. Harshly."

"Probably something about too many incidents with teenagers, sharp toys, super powers, and even lower impulse control than usual," Percy grinned with his usual wit. "But man it must've been something for even the stuffy, most tradition loving ones to go along with it."

"Yeah, pretty much," Frank nodded ruefully. "Either way, I don't want to know either. Same with Camp Half-Blood?"

"There's a lot of conflicting stories as to what the final straw was for Chiron, and which cabin was responsible. Personally, I bet it was a mix of them in a short period of time, trying to one-up each other," said Annabeth. "Either way, whatever happened, nowadays even the children of Mr. D don't contest it."

Percy gave an appreciative whistle at that. "They actually made Chiron lose his cool, and call down the Prohibition on 'em? Not sure I want to ask. Glad it's not a problem for me."

Sally was too. She only wished it had not taken the likes of Gabe for Percy to realize the dangers of liquor.

"Yes, that's why no one actually asks him," agreed Annabeth. "Once you're off camp grounds though, you're free to do what you want. Same for when a legionnaire musters out?"

"Yeah, you can drink all you want in New Rome as an adult civilian, and you're no longer Camp Jupiter's concern. Officially at any rate."

"Officially," Percy repeated solemnly.

"If you cause a tsunami," Frank teased, "I'll have your professors up your homework."

"Too cruel, bro, too cruel. Abuse of authority."

"Your own fault for not contesting my praetorship while you had the chance."

"Ooh, you're right. Imagine the fun I could've had before being run out of office!"

"Reyna would've killed you first. Maybe try and recruit Annabeth then."

"Oh yes," she grinned. "Two children of war in charge."

"Hey, they had that too with Frank. Now it's, hmm, war and wealth running things? Huh, sounds kinda shifty man."

Frank chuckled, "Yeah, I get the symbolism. But it's all going well. We haven't hung out in a while though. After this is over, the three of us and Hazel have to grab a cup of coffee together. Oh!" he snapped his fingers. "Reyna also said that as a compromise for the prohibition, the senators and praetors agreed that fresh, quality coffee, counted as a 'basic necessity' for legionnaires. That's how we now have a gourmet coffee shop inside the camp."

"Oh wow, they should have that up on a wall or something! Bombilo's is the best!"

"For sure!"

-0-0-0-

The conversation broke off shortly afterwards as Frank went to make his rounds, and Sally gently guided the couple to grab some clothes, and go away to somewhere quieter. Just in time too, as the sounds of the party were starting to rise.

Of course, there were still a lot of empty hotel rooms within the demigod perimeter to choose from.

As soon as the door closed, she caught Percy working up the courage to say something, so she pulled him into another hug. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear. "I'm sorry you got pulled back into this violence, but thank you for being so brave once more."

"I," he choked on his words for a moment. "You're welcome, mom. I was just so angry, and I just wanted to, to—"

"Someone you loved was in danger, and you wanted to save them. There's nothing wrong with that. You didn't go too far, and you have wonderful friends around you who will always help you get through whatever mess the Fates throw at you."

Unbeknownst to her son, she and Paul had been reading a lot of books about helping those with PTSD. Usually with fake dust jackets to disguise them.

"We can talk about it later. Right now though, you look like you're going to keel over from everything you've been doing."

As soon as she said it, it only now seemed to truly register for Percy how exhausted he was. Not just mentally, she knew it was also the cost of using his powers so much. Sure, he could take some ambrosia or nectar, or dump some water on him, yet the former was for emergencies, and the latter was short-term. Hardly reasonable for a party.

She would also die rather than admit it, but it was quite unnerving seeing her darling boy nearly coated head-to-foot in other people's blood.

Despite her words, he still looked like he was about to protest, only for a yawn to escape him. "Sleep sounds nice," he admitted. "Annabeth?"

"Same," she nodded tiredly.

"You two figure out who's having a shower first, and the other can fill me in on what I missed."

Annabeth shooed her boyfriend in for a shower first, saying he needed rest more, and then told Sally everything about bringing everyone together to find her, how they had done so, and travelled so quickly. She did gloss over the specifics of the battle though, and Sally suspected the girl was shading just how upset Percy had been, and maybe him trying to do something reckless; like trying to come rescue his mom with just him and Annabeth.

While Annabeth had her shower, she and a freshly changed Percy rearranged the furniture, and she assured him again she was perfectly fine. After the couple were asleep, she would go say a few more thanks to her other rescuers, and then settle down herself.

Without a lick of embarrassment, he let her tuck him into bed, and Annabeth's was moved right beside his, within easy reach.

The precise nature of where the couple's relationship had advanced to was none of Sally's business, but neither did she want it broadcasted with all these impressionable teenagers around. Or teasing ones of course.

After she tucked in the girl who was basically her daughter-in-law already, they both collapsed immediately into the embrace of Hypnos, and she left the door a little ajar so she could check up on them later.

-0-0-0-

The first person Sally hunted down was Nico di Angelo. She knew him better than most of the rest, and trusted him to fill in any lingering questions she might have.

All around her the teenagers were having a good time dancing, talking loudly, playing games, and gobbling down copious amounts of hotel food. Most of them had also taken the time to wash off the blood and grime, and get some fresh clothes of their own.

The party spilled out from open hotel rooms, and into the hallways, as they went all over the place. Given some of the flirting going on, it looked like Greek-Roman relations were going well.

She felt a little bad for interrupting his time with Will Solace, or the fun they were having dancing, as she remembered how shy he used to be. Fortunately he seemed alright with it, if embarrassed at her attempts to thank him.

Like Annabeth, Nico was also a little evasive on just how upset Percy had been, yet assured her it was nothing 'too serious.'

Right.

Changing the subject for his sake, "How are you all paying for this hotel? Is this something to do with your sister?"

"Ah, no!" laughed Will warmly. "You see, my brilliant boyfriend made a joke about how we had essentially waged a hostile takeover of Triumvirate Holdings by assassinating the top CEOs, only for us to stop and realize he was right! Then we figured out just what a coup it was. I mean, we had to use the Mist, but the whole thing was run by literal paranoid dictators, so it wasn't like we really had to worry about any shareholders or boards of directors interfering."

The two of them went on to take turns explaining how the three Emperors had formed a multi-billion industry with fingers in basically every other major corporation in the world, numerous pet politicians, ran various banks under different names, legions of criminal gangs who worked for them, dirty cops, owned mercenary companies, ran 'privatized' prisons, human and animal trafficking rings, and more. They basically even ran a few third world countries through proxies! It was a nightmare of sin and vice, and so the demigods had coordinated with Iris Messages, and rolled up their sleeves to get to work.

Honest law enforcement officers received mountains of evidence to arrest not only their corrupt fellows and judges, but also roll up a lot of crooks. A lot of crooks, even as prisons were being folded back into the government again.

"Now," Will grinned with surprising wickedness, "technically demigods aren't supposed to be playing politics any more, except dad had approved it on the grounds of making the deaths of Nero, Commodus, and Caligula, all the more sweeter. Something about making them spin in their graves, spitting on their legacies, and a few other things I'm not going to repeat. There may have been some cackling involved."

So now a lot of ultra-right politicians were politely, if firmly, told that while pro-military was still fine to advocate, they were also now anti-private armies, pro-green, pro-LGBT, pro-minorities, pro-gender equality, pro- . . . well, you get the idea. A few protested, only to have some uncomfortable visits.

"Like what?" asked Sally.

"Well," and Nico's grin made an honest shiver go up her spine, even if she hid it, "Will and I had fun terrorising this one guy. Apparently there's this film where they leave this guy's horses' head in his bed, and this sleezeball was a big horse lover. As in he even buried them on his property. So I had the skeletons climb out of their graves, and drape them over him and his wife while they slept, and all over the room. Got a video of it even."

"We really need to get you to watch Godfather," added Will.

"Add it to the list," said Nico with a sigh. "Is it at least better than Star Wars?"

"Hey! No need to be hateful!"

Honestly, Sally had to laugh at their antics, before gesturing for them to continue.

"Let's see, Clarisse took a break from school to dangle one guy out a window by his ankles, Piper made another one give a public confession on live TV—"

"Oh! Is that the one who . . .?"

"Yes, yes it was."

While the politics were being handled, that left just the financial aspects, which led right back to how they were affording this massive party at a hotel. In fact, Sally just realized she had seen no sign of any other guests here.

The demigods had liquidated the companies which were frankly illegal, or horrible for the environment ("The Hunters had fun burning a bunch down for the insurance money."), except that had still left a massive mega-corporation still worth a frankly ridiculous amount of money. So they had decided to divide the shares and ownerships amongst the demigods and their allies.

The Amazons had been uninterested in accepting any gifts of spoils claimed by men, but several profitable deals had been negotiated between the two mega-corporations. Very profitable.

There were also contract clauses where if the Amazons succeeded in global conquest, the male demigods would be protected by their female siblings and cousins. More or less.

Both the Cistern and Waystation had received 5% of the shares each, in recognition of their status as growing places of demigod safety and importance. Plus their role in destroying two Emperors. In a decade, the demigods would reconvene to decide if a larger share was appropriate for them. That was still a few billion, minimum, each though.

A solid 10% of those holdings though was held by the Council of Cloven Elders. When Percy had first gone to Camp, their official duty was to abide over the satyrs' search for the god Pan. With Pan passing on, and Grover's ascension as a Lord of the Wild and member of the Council, their duties had extended to represent all nature spirits in the preservation of the Wild. Initially many Romans had been reluctant to provide such a large share to 'Fauns,' yet upon learning how the Satyrs remained responsible for getting demigod children to Camp Half-Blood for centuries, had fought so hard with such losses in the Second Titan War, and of course the sacrifice of Don the Faun, they had been happy to do so.

The Hunters of Artemis had received 20% with no argument. They were a powerful force, and had long aided both Greeks and Romans. You could be sure there would be a growing rise in safe havens for women and girls in America, and equal employment.

Finally, Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood each took 20% apiece. This would help their adults find jobs in the mortal world, and pay for a lot of amenities for both places as they expanded. Not that Chiron was relaxing on the strawberry picking, wanting his Camp to remain as financially secure as possible.

"So you're saying if you wanted to," Sally concluded, "you could buy this hotel without blinking at the price."

Nico fidgeted.

"You did buy this hotel."

"Honestly," he said with an embarrassed grin, "Hazel could've done it herself, just by grabbing some gold to sell."

She laughed and shook her head. "I see. I appreciate you explaining all that to me, and I won't keep you any longer."

Her arms opened in an offering of a hug, which they both accepted more than they would have more words of thanks from her.

Off they went, and she moved to talk to more demigods.

-0-0-0-

As Sally continued to make her rounds, she passed by an open bathroom door, and saw a boy talking into the sink.

Or rather the Iris Message he had rigged up.

"—the time," he said in a reassuring voice. "We all know you would've come if you could've."

"And you're sure no one was hurt?" asked the undeniably gorgeous teenage girl on the other side.

"Like I told you, just some cuts and bruises."

"That's not what I meant, Leo," was the gentle reproach. "You had to burn people, not monsters, back there."

The boy, Leo obviously, flinched, but before Sally could back away to give him space, he said, "I don't like it, and you can bet I'll be talking to my moms about it after you. I can deal with it though. They really were awful people, and I went in knowing what would happen."

She knew that he had died, temporarily, from fire, except now Sally wondered if there was more involved. Making a snap decision, she said a little loudly, "And I appreciate how you came to save me."

Leo jumped straight at that, whirling to see her approach.

"I'm sorry, I was passing by, and couldn't help overhearing."

"No worries," he grinned in a way she was sure was only mostly genuine, "I should've thought to close the door."

Looking at the Iris image, and noting the complexion and feathers in the hair, she confirmed who he was talking to. "You must be Piper. It's so nice to finally have faces for you. The upside of all this, is that I'm finally meeting so many of Percy's friends."

"Aw, you're gonna make me blush," Leo said ruefully, scratching his head.

"It's nice to meet you too," said Piper with a warm smile. Even the scar by her lips could not detract from it. "I only wish I could be there in person. Unfortunately there was no transport available in time."

Privately, Sally suspected Apollo had deliberately passed on Piper, since she had heard that the young girl was as strident as Percy and Annabeth were about settling down. Especially after Jason. They may not have been a couple anymore, but they had certainly loved each other in another way.

"Well, it all worked out," she happily said, "and it's nice to know you would have come if you could." She put a hand on Leo's shoulder, "And thank you again. Percy and I are very fortunate to know you two. Well, I interrupted, so I will let you get back to it."

With that, she took her leave to check on the rest of the kids.

-0-0-0-

Leo took the trouble to be extra-double-super-sure Percy's mom was out of earshot, before he admitted to Piper, "I want her to meet my moms. It'd be the most awesome mom-fest ever!"

With a laugh, Piper gave her agreement. "Now, how're you and Calypso doing?"

"Aw, Pipes, really?" he asked, scratching his cheek more awkwardly.

"Hey, I'm not going to turn into my mom, but I need to be sure how it's going for you. Tell you what, I'll share about me and Shel?"

"Deal."

-0-0-0-

It took her a while, but she finally found both Grover and Meg. They, a few other satyrs, and demigods who appeared to be Greek, Roman, and even Hunters, were in a quieter room where she caught them planning their own political campaigns.

"—cameras to a lot of the Dryads," Grover was saying.

"Why?" asked Meg, looking freshly showered.

"Well, they can take pictures of polluters without being seen, and we can then make sure they get them to the authorities. We're also pushing for harsher penalties if you're caught at that."

"Any chance for the death sentence?"

"Not yet."

By the sounds of things, either Meg would grow up to be a world renowned Green activist, or an eco-terrorist. Personally, Sally was hoping for the latter. She would certainly liven things up in the House of Representatives.

After a moment's thought, she decided to let them be for now. This appeared to be a pretty serious conversation between those parties. Let them conspire to change the world without an adult looking over their shoulders.

She really did want to see what they came up with in the end though.

-0-0-0-

Hidden under Annabeth's invisible cap, Percy had a relieved grin as he watched his mom mingle with more demigods. How she was helping them in turn by talking to them, listening to what they had to say, and offering comfort or support as needed. And promising they could always visit if they were in the New York area.

She also offered a helpful shoulder to cry on for some of the younger kids who just realized what they had gone through at the manor.

Hopefully she would get some rest soon herself.

Part of him felt bad for pretending to fall asleep like that, but he needed to be sure she was okay, without making her worry in turn. Fortunately she had not caught him signaling his plan to Annabeth with his rudimentary ASL earlier. Magnus and Alex had been teaching them when they had met, and honestly it was now part of the curriculum for both camps. Diversity aside, silent communication is something he wished they had learnt years ago.

Overall though, as tired as he genuinely was, Percy felt immeasurably better now than he had been only hours ago. Like a hole in his soul had been refilled.

Man, he was friends and family with the best people in the world.

After following his mom for a little longer, and reassuring himself he was not being a stalker, he went up to Frank. He hissed his friend's name as he got closer, so as to not be attacked by an intense bulldog reacting to faint sounds where no-one could be seen.

Frank lifted a pop can so it was covering his mouth, and quietly said, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just finished checking on my mom, and security. All good."

"Good." The praetor was silent for a moment, and then said, "It went well tonight."

"Yep. We had intel, surprise, and overwhelming force. And man, I heard how Lavinia made the Fifth Cohort into a menace again, but seeing it was something else. They did awesome there. You too, of course, but I'm honestly not sure if I'm sad I wasn't there for when she took over, or glad I got to skip out on learning tap dancing."

A snort, and Frank tried to stifle his own chuckles. "Yeah, I know. I honestly thought she was joking at first, only for it to pay off in spades. Reyna's finding it hilarious. Have you seen her by the way?"

"Talking with some of the younger girls, Greek and Roman. Not to recruit them as Hunters though. More being the big sister they can share any fears or concerns with, and giving them some tips. She was enjoying herself a bit."

"Good for her. And yeah, still a lot less responsibility than she had before."

"Ah, the woes of a dictator," teased Percy.

"Co-dictator thank you very much, you vassal you, so watch your tongue."

"Nah, Hazel loves me. Speaking of which, how long until you two get hitched?"

Perfect timing, as his friend coughed on his drink. Composing himself, Frank said, "You first. As for me, when she's ready, and not before. Besides, we want to take things slow while we're not dealing with constant life and death."

"Smart. Especially the part about treating her right."

"We both know she can kill me easily, and then her dad and brother will make my afterlife even worse."

It was a dark joke, yet they still had to share a little laugh at that. It had been a long night.

Although yes, people tended to overlook how Hazel was a Child of the Big Three.

Thalia was openly domineering, and Nico was the scariest demigod Percy knew. Hazel . . . people underestimated her, and always to their peril.

"Seriously though, we're good, and Nico said he didn't even have to threaten me. But speaking of dangerous women, get to bed, before Annabeth sends out search parties, and makes me suffer for keeping you here."

"Aye, honoured Praetor!"

Another snort, and Frank gave his invisible shoulder a shove. "I mean it. Tomorrow though, I'd like it if you'd take the chance to help me debrief on what happened. There's a lot we can learn from this for future joint operations."

"Including future joint training," said Percy knowingly. "Sure, Annabeth and I'll be up for that."

"Thanks. Now, get going."

"What about you?"

"Which of us is retired?"

"Gone."

Once he was back in his and Annabeth's room, he would send one more Iris Message to reassure Paul though.

-0-0-0-

When Harry Potter went down to Great Hall for breakfast, he tried to hide the jumbled emotions he felt.

Eventually his best friends, Hermione and Ron, got tired of his evasion. In frustration at their prodding, he said, "I got a sense from Voldemort last night in my dreams. Whatever it was, he was angry. Really angry. Full of hatred, and I think . . . fear."

"You think something bad happened to him?" said Hermione with surprise. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah, but, I don't think it was," he stopped to glance around and make sure no one was in earshot, afraid to say "the Order," only for them to nod in understanding.

"They haven't been doing much," Hermione admitted, biting her lip.

"Maybe the Ministry caught him at something?" suggested Ron hopefully.

"Maybe."

When they sat down at the Gryffindor table, across from them, Ron's older twin siblings, Fred and George, hissed at the trio, "Look at Umbridge."

As discreetly as possible, they looked at their supposed Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. To their surprise, even from this distance it was obvious she was trying to act composed, and failing.

"Is she paler than usual?" asked Harry.

"Looks like it," nodded one of the twins. "Something big happened."

Harry started to feel like this might be a good day after all.

Then the owls with the Daily Prophet appeared.

Hermione took one look at her copy of the newspaper, and her jaw dropped in genuine shock at the front page.

Leaning over her shoulder, Harry read:

TRAGIC ACCIDENT KILLS UPSTANDING WIZARDS.

Last night, a freak fire claimed the life of Lucius Malfoy; many more upstanding wizards missing.

Below it was a picture of what was probably once a grand mansion, now being consumed by fire.

Meanwhile, Hermione was already reading through the main article, before with a gasp she pointed out a particular paragraph. "Harry! Look!"

It was a list of other 'upstanding wizards' missing, and presumed dead as well in the fire, and he recognized most of the names from the cemetery last year. Ones Voldemort had used to address his followers with.

"Someone just knocked off most of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters," Ron whispered with a mix of awe, shock, and touch of fear.

Harry felt the same way.

Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of Draco Malfoy's face rapidly paling at the news, and some other Slytherin's were little better off.

Crabbe outright fainted right there and then. Oh right, his dad was on the list too.

His eyes turned back to the article, but a frowning Hermione was already flipping through more pages. "What's wrong?"

"The story's too flimsy. They're saying it was just a freak fire, but that's obviously a cover-up. I mean, we learn about the Flame-Freezing Charm for a reason, right? Or did a bunch of adults forget how to make water? They go on a lot about the tragedy, and not what happened, so I'm looking for other clues to what happened."

Absently Harry nodded, while already trying to figure out how to get a hold of someone from the Order to talk to. Surely they knew what had happened, right? Plus, he should probably tell them about his dream. Maybe Professor McGonagall?

-0-0-0-

The trip home for Sally and her small army of bodyguards was frankly anticlimactic.

Everyone was awake by the afternoon, and vertical, and checked to be sure all their weapons were accounted for, and grabbed some food to go. After seeing the state of affairs they had left the hotel in, Nico (who really did not want to know how or why a mattress was stuck to the ceiling) gave another hefty tip to the hotel staff on top of what Frank had already paid.

At the docks they looked for the way home Poseidon had promised them, and found a man who had been holding a sign for "The maker of seven-layer dip" for a few hours, and he directed them to a ginormous luxury yacht waiting for them to take pre-paid ownership of. The Estelle Blofis.

"Sneaky. We can hardly refuse that," said Percy with appreciation. "All aboard! Calypso, please keep Leo from modifying the engines too much."

"Don't worry, he owes me some dances!"

"Oh wow! There's an arcade!"

Cue a six day cruise trip and party across the Atlantic Ocean. Well, as stressed as she had been at the start of all this, Sally had to say she was nice and relaxed now.

Of course, she was well aware the teens were carefully trying to hide from her any of the various monster attacks. When plausible for her to miss them, she acted like they had succeeded. No one was hurt, so it was all fine. She did make sure to make offerings to Poseidon during the trip though.

Upon arrival in New York, the Romans, and those from the Waystation and Cistern, had to hurry off to catch their planes back home, but there had been plenty of time to say good-bye. The Hunters had fun pulling a disappearing act, while a grinning horde of Greeks headed home to tell stories of their quest, and present trophies and souvenirs.

She and Paul would figure out what to do with the cruise ship later. Thankfully, Poseidon had also made sure they had a berth pre-paid for a month.

"You're sure you don't want to head back to school?" she asked Percy a little sternly.

"Nah, mom," he replied with equal seriousness. "Not until we're sure there's not going to be any response from those wizards." He gave a cheeky grin. "I hope you didn't rent out my room or anything."

"You're always welcome," she promised. "Annabeth too."

"I call the couch then," the blonde declared. "I don't want to find myself running all the way back from Athena Cabin."

"We'll stop by regularly too," said Nico. "Although not to stay overnight."

"Yeah," Will shrugged yet grinned, "we've got other stuff to handle too."

"You're always welcome too," she smiled.

Realistically she suspected there would be a constant stream of demigods stopping by as well.

Sure enough, a few days later, a certain letter arrived in the mail for Sally.

She carefully read it, and wrote her response.

Alas, when she looked away, Percy and Nico made sure to make their own little additions to it.

-0-0-0-

"Ah, Remus and Nymphadora—"

"Headmaster!" moaned the Auror. "Call me Tonks!"

"Welcome back," Albus genially finished. The adult members of the Order of the Phoenix were all assembled in Grimmauld Place's kitchen, and had just been about to start their own meeting before the return of these two. "You're back sooner than I expected."

With an awkward cough into his fist, Remus Lupin ruefully said, "MACUSA expedited our exit. I don't know if they know what or who happened to Malfoy Manor themselves, but they didn't want us stirring things up."

"So you found Sally Jackson?" asked Sirius Black with a mix of excitement and concern.

"Are you alright!?" asked Molly Weasely with anguished concern.

"Why don't you take a seat, and get yourself some tea, before you start from the beginning," offered Albus.

"Are they going to attack us?" barked Alasator, wanting to know that first.

"We're okay," assured Remus, as he got a cup for himself and his companion.

"No issues at the Ministry?" asked Nymphadora Tonks. "I know it was a tad awkward for me to take a 'vacation' like this."

"Director Bones figured it all out," said Shackelbolt. "She's fine with it though, since she wants to know the same things we do."

"Do we have a new Minister yet?"

"No. People still don't believe it's You-Know-Who that's back, but they are definitely scared. The Purebloods are in a panic, even if we think he's had to put a few under the Imperius. Still, no clear contender has emerged."

"Voldemort will certainly try and influence the vote," said Albus solemnly, "but his primary concern now though will be on acquiring the prophecy. He will be worried about any potential link between it and his recent setbacks." It took some effort to say all that so smoothly. Even now he still had occasional nightmares over how casually death and judgment had been dealt out. Fortunately the others appeared reassured, and his words remained vague enough that they would not be able to tell if there actually was a link between Sally Jackson and prophecy.

Personally, while he was genuinely confident there was none, he was keeping his opinion open.

"Obviously, we must take advantage of that," Albus continued. "As well, we are doing our best to ensure a new administration which will take the threat seriously. Perhaps even a proper interview with Harry.

"Now, before we delve into the issue of Mrs. Jackson, does anyone else have anything to report? No? Very well."

Taking their cue, Remus started. "Tonks and I volunteered to go to America to make inquiries towards Mrs. Sally Jackson—"

Well, Albus had gently prodded them. In all honesty though, they were the two he trusted the most to be polite, brave enough to go, and whose absence could be reasonably accounted for by other parties.

"—about what happened when she was abducted. We confirmed she was at home with her family again—"

"—And they knew we were there," Nymphadora grimly interrupted. "I don't know how they knew, but they knew. You could just feel it. I scaled back my metamorphing so we didn't seem like we were a threat."

"Yes," nodded Remus. "We sent a letter through the muggle-post. Here is a copy." He went to pass a piece of parchment to Albus, only for Sirius to intercept it.

His eyes skimmed over it with a sense of mischief. "Full points, Moony. Starting with apologies for what she endured in England, while denying being responsible in any way, and asking for what happened with the Malfoy. Altogether, all nice and respectful for a first exchange, along with a subtle undertone of 'please don't kill us.'"

"Given the circumstances, justified, I should think," Remus dryly said, unfazed by his friend, even if Molly was glaring at the prankster for his rudeness. Hmm, maybe they really should get him out of the house more often. "We also sent along a big bar of Honeydukes Chocolate as a peace offering.

"Early the next morning, our wards went off while we were asleep."

Nymphadora scowled at that memory of being woken up.

"All we found was a letter in turn, and a brown paper bag with four cookies. Once we checked them, they were very delicious."

Now his partner had a fond grin as she nodded.

Having discretely drawn his wand, Remus flicked it so the return note sailed right to Albus before Sirius could grab it. He noted how it was three separate messages written on typical muggle paper. He read aloud:

"Thank you for the chocolate, but I wish to have no more dealings with Magical England, or wizards in general.

"Enjoy the cookies, and a safe voyage home.

"S.J."

"To the side," he went on, "in a rougher hand, is:

"Don't you dare try and mix us up in your messes again. Fix it yourself, or else."

As for the third, by someone else, says:

"Spread the word. You don't mess with the Family. You don't mess with—"

Albus Dumbledore trailed off as he read the last two words.

-0-0-0-

Some twenty or so years later, Harry Potter found himself escorting his family to King's Cross Station, for his oldest child to go to Hogwarts.

He grinned with nostalgia, remembering his own school years, and enjoyed the sense of hard-won peace.

It had been a close call several times, yet with the bulk of his supporters dead, as well as his backers, and no element of surprise for this war, Voldemort had struggled and failed badly to regain his old standing. After he had been revealed in a failed attempt to get the prophecy about the two of them, it had been downhill for him all the way, even as Dumbledore and Harry hunted down the rest of his Horcruxes. Culminating in the evil wizard making one last desperate assault on Hogwarts, along with Bellatrix Lestrange, his sole remaining follower.

In the end, through no small amount of sheer luck, his Firebolt, and Hedgewig, Harry had finally beaten the man who had murdered his parents, and so many others.

(Harry had successfully managed to champion for Hedwig to get her own Order of Merlin, First Class. There had been some obvious resistance giving it to a 'mere' pet, but a majority of the Wizengamot were willing to make an exception for the owl who took out one of Voldemort's eyes.)

Word had also spread through the wizarding community though, at what had happened to Voldemort's army in what was now known as the Malfoy Manor Massacre.

Rumours leaked out as to what had been on a note Dumbledore had received, until everyone felt they knew what it had said. Now everyone in Magical Britain seemed to regard America with varying shades of fear, and rarely even Gryffindors travelled there. If they ever found some hint as to what had happened, they never said.

Harry's own contacts with MACUSA, firmly said either the American government knew who was responsible and were not saying, or did not know and did not want to.

Regardless, everyone knew to tread lightly with the slumbering superpower there.

To tread lightly with one Sally Jackson and her Family.

With the woman known as . . . The Godmother.

Finis