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From Hogwarts To Olympus: A Demigod's Odyssey Ch.3
🕑 Added 2023-08-31 18:32:01 +0000 UTCDisclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 3- The Dead and the Dying
AN: This is the final bit of recalling; the story will move on to the present after this. Let me know if you liked this style; I wanted to try something different, don't know how well I executed it.
Enjoy!
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The Chamber was enormous…at least, the part that wasn't shrouded in darkness was. Like a massive stadium, it stretched on almost as far as eyes could witness, just perhaps being a little more thinner; like a rectangular audience hall.
Towering stone pillars were lined up on either side of it, rising to support a ceiling lost in darkness, each one spread out evenly upon the floor. Harry finally realised why he could see even the little that he could: every single pillar was hugged by a pair of spiralling snakes that matched the gateway, their entwined glowing eyes washing the crystalline chamber in a poisonous emerald shade.
"Merlin," Jane's awed voice broke the stunned silence first. "The Chamber of Secrets, indeed."
He saw Lockhart edging back from the corner of his eyes and promptly trained his wand upon him. "You first, Professor."
The man looked a second away from crying, but with his wand as a motivational push, he nonetheless took the lead amongst the three.
"Wait," Jane whispered, bending down to pick up a small rock. She slipped it within her robe pocket, explaining at his curious look, "Hermione's page said a rooster's crow is fatal to Basilisks."
While that was all well and good, something else took him completely by surprise.
"You know Inanimate to Animate transformations already?" Harry asked incredulously. Even Hermione was just starting on the basics. Another thought hit him quickly after, "Why do you hold back in class then?"
Jane shrugged, muttering lowly as she refused to meet his eyes. "Don't want people hating me more than they already do." She tucked a loose lock of auburn hair behind her ears. "Now's really not the time. C'mon."
Harry scrunched up his nose. "No one hates you."
"Right, everyone loves me." She drawled sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "And really not the time. Let's go before all that's left of Ginny is her wand."
They entered the Chamber slowly, eyes flittering through every shadow and every corner as if it were hiding a Basilisk, two sets of wands and a shivering pair of hands ready to defend themselves. Gesturing at Jane, he signalled her to keep her eyes low.
If the serpent decided to surprise them with a welcome wink, he would rather the walking-collateral die first.
As their shadows danced along the edges of the Chamber, running from one pillar to another, he found himself sorting through the many Curses his mind had devoured till now. Contrary to what Jane might believe, he hadn't taken the decision to confront a Basilisk in a spur of the moment. He'd been preparing to face it ever since he and Hermione had first theorised its existence.
By their very nature, magical creatures scaled XXXXX on Ministry classification defied belief, every single one a known wizard-killer. Very few spells worked on them in the first place, and if you’re caught within proximity of one without knowing any, you’d be dead before you get a chance to regret your ignorance. But there were a few, and Harry had done his best to include them in his repertoire.
If a Basilisk did prove to be his end today, he would make sure to give it the fight of its life.
In short order, the three found themselves crossing half-way through the dimly-lit Chamber when their eyes finally noticed the behemoth statue stretching tall like a skyscraper in front of them.
Harry had to do a double take when he realised the weird-looking stone structure high in the sky was actually a face; depicting an ancient, monkish man looking down at them imperiously. A long, stone-beard flowed down his concrete robes, stretching just past his knees that were supported by two enormous stone-legs, each half the length of Basilisk's shedded skin.
'Salazar Slytherin.' He breathed out, strangely captivated.
"There!" Jane pointed hurriedly, forcing Harry to tear his eyes away and finally take notice of the small, black-robed figure lying face down between the statue's legs.
The flaming red hair gave away the identity at once.
"Ginny!" His sister took off at once.
Poking Lockhart in the back to hurry up, Harry followed after her cautiously.
"Well, we've found what we're looking for!" The cowardly professor whined, even as he jogged ahead. "I suggest we take her and get out of here while we still can!"
Harry snorted. "First sensible thing I've heard from you all year."
Yet, for some reason, he wasn't satisfied. The entire mission had been too simple; where was the Heir? Where was Slytherin's monster?
'Maybe he isn't here.' He finally concluded, reaching the new ginger duo. 'Maybe he's still out there in the Castle, searching for another victim before all the students leave.'
What would be the point of saving Ginny then, if she was simply replaced by another student? Hogwarts would be shut down all the same.
Then again, perhaps he should be focusing on actually saving Ginny first.
As he came to a stop beside his sister, he jerked Lockhart in position to remain within eyesight before kneeling beside the Weasley girl's still body.
"She isn't waking." Jane said from her other side, frustration and fear mingling in her breath. "Is she…?"
Harry pressed his fingers against her chest, feeling the familiar beating rhythm. "She's breathing. It's slow, but she's alive."
"Then why won't she wake?"
He opened his mouth to reply but found out the next second he didn't need to.
"Because she cannot." The answer came from behind.
They both whirled around on their knees to face the voice.
Leaning with his back to the nearest pillar was a tall, dark-haired boy, dressed in Hogwarts robes with a prefect badge stuck on his chest.
Harry instantly raised his wand. "How did you get here?" Then his eyes fell on the green emblem on his robe. "You in Slytherin? Never saw you in the Common room before."
The boy smiled, though his eyes never left Jane. "Oh, you wouldn't know me."
There was something off about him, Harry realised. The edges of his outline were blurred, as if he was standing on the other side of a mist curtain.
"I do." Jane spoke up mutely, looking stunned and uncomprehending. "You…you're Tom Riddle, aren't you?…But how?"
Harry wrecked his mind, trying to place the name, but came up completely empty. If there was a Tom Riddle in Slytherin, he was either an obscure student not worth knowing or a graduated wizard who shouldn't be in Hogwarts…let alone in the Chamber of Secrets.
Unless…
"You're the Heir." Harry muttered quietly in conclusion, tightening his hold on the wand.
"I am, indeed." Riddle replied to Jane, though Harry had a feeling the boy heard him quite clearly.
Jane shot him an uncertain look, giving a quick, whispered explanation under her breath, "He was in Hogwarts around Hagrid's time, when the Chamber was last opened. I don't know who he is, but I know he received the Special Award for catching the Heir." She turned back to the boy, raising her voice. "So are you a ghost now?"
"A memory." The boy corrected quietly, glancing towards the giant toes of Slytherin's statue in distaste. "Preserved in a Diary for fifty years."
Harry followed his vision, taking in the small, black Diary lying beneath the giant foot, wet from the floor's dampness.
"That Diary…?" Jane's eyes widened in recognition. "How did it come here?"
"You know how, of course." Something sinister seemed to infect Riddle's smile as he dipped his head towards the prone body at their feet.
"...Ginny?" Jane slowly glanced at the girl, flabbergasted. "She stole it from me?"
"Well, I'm sure you can ask her why once she wakes up." Harry slowly stood up, wand still raised in caution.
He didn't know how or why his sister knew this boy, nor did he particularly care right now. His instincts were screaming at him the danger was close; the best thing to do now would be to get right out of dodge.
Turning to Lockhart, he jerked his head at the girl. "Time to earn your keep, Professor. Pick her up. We're leaving."
"Ah, not so fast, I'm afraid." Riddle stepped forward, and the poisonous green hue of the Chamber cast upon him a distinct air of evil. “We still have some unfinished business.”
Harry raised his wand. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Jane patting her robes in search of her wand as well—whatever this case may be, at least the girl knew when to stay cautious.
There was something shady about Riddle and his sister seemed to recognise that.
"Looking for this?" Ahead, Riddle spun a long, dark stick between his fingers, smirking.
"My wand…it must've slipped." Jane smiled tensely, eyes flickering up to him once as she extended her arm for its return. "Thanks for finding it."
Harry understood the look instantly and readied himself for the confrontation. He didn't know what a walking, talking 'Memory' could do, but the fact that he could hold a wand alone meant he was closer to a living person than a ghost.
A living person with probably far more magical knowledge than him.
If the boy guessed their intentions, he didn't show it, silently pacing forward, eyes fixed religiously on Jane as he ignored her request. "You know…I've been wondering all this while, ever since I first heard of you…how?"
Jane slowly pushed herself up her feet, asking wearily. "How what?"
Riddle tilted his head, lips thinning in a frown. "How is it that you managed to do what some of the most skilled wizards of this generation could not?" He took another step forward. "How is it that an year old child managed to defeat the most powerful Dark Lord in history?"
"Well, maybe I didn't." She shrugged, jerking a thumb at him. "Maybe he did, and I just got the credit for it."
Harry looked at her incredulously. How could she throw him under the bus like that?
"I shall admit," Riddle went on, completely unheeding. "From everything the girl has told me, you seem to be a talented witch. Top of the class, the best Dueler in your year—”
Harry huffed.
“—but talent alone isn't enough. There must be something else…something that makes you special."
"Something that I'm sure we can discuss once we're out of here." Said Jane indulgently. "Besides, why do you care? Voldemort was after your time." Stepping forward, she extended her arm again. "Now return my wand, please."
"Voldemort," Riddle pronounced softly, once again ignoring her request. "is my past, present, and future, Jane Potter." Using Jane's wand, he traced three shimmering words in the air, all glowing red as blood. 'Tom Marvollo Riddle'. He cut the words with the wand and they rearranged themselves anew. 'I am Lord Voldemort.'
Beside him, Jane sucked in a sharp breath.
“You see?” Riddle said. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself—”
“So you are the Heir.” Harry nodded, satisfied. He wasn’t as shocked by the Voldemort revelation, simply because he had absolutely no knowledge about the Dark Lord who once terrorised Magical Britain.
“—keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born!?” Teen-Voldemort continued ranting. “No, Jane Potter—I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”
The ensuing silence was broken only by Lockhart’s renewed whimpering. All Harry could do was keep his wand trained on the teenage Dark Lord and wonder when would be an appropriate time to start blasting.
Then Jane finally spoke up. “...That’s a stupid name.”
Riddle jerked back. “What?”
“If you hate your old name so much, why use it to form the new one?” She continued. “Shouldn’t you make something entirely new? Oh, I don’t know…something that doesn’t contain ‘Tom Riddle’ in it?”
Malevolence burned in Riddle's Eyes, and suddenly Harry could believe the boy would go on to one day become an evil dark Lord. “You think you're smart, Jane Potter? Think your 'brave' little quips will help you here? Two children and a whimpering fool, against the greatest wizard to have ever lived…let me show you the difference between us." He raised his wand, sneering. "Don't worry, I won't kill you just yet. You still have to answer my question—"
Before the boy could finish his monologue, Harry indeed started blasting.
"Confringo!" The spell whizzed off like a fiery canon—a small orange meteor blasting through the air with the sole purpose of shredding his opponent.
Yet to his surprise, and slowly rising dismay, the boy simply conjured a nonverbal shield and lazily watched the spell splash against it in a useless little firework.
Then, for the first time that evening, he looked at Harry, a smirk dancing on his face. "Of course, I can't say the same would be true for your brother."
Harry's heart plummeted. Nonverbal spells were far beyond his reach right now; the entire idea behind learning Occlumency was simply to get a headstart on wordless casting—something they wouldn't otherwise learn until after their O.W.Ls.
Which meant Riddle was equal or superior to a 6th year Hogwarts' student. Of the many challenges to the Pit this year—most of which were instigated by himself—Harry had yet to defeat a 6th year. The difference in their casting speed was simply too much.
He was beginning to realise how absurd Dark Lord Voldemort truly might be, even as a student—the boy didn't even look that old!
Riddle didn't wait for him to get over his surprise, brandishing his wand in a lazy swish and starting an unrelenting assault of spells.
And thus began the start of a duel Harry really should’ve tried avoiding.
His form, he couldn't help but notice absently, was immaculate. Even though he acted as if he were taking a morning stroll through Hogsmeade, his movements were swift and sharp, casting each spell with bare minimal wandwork required and nothing more.
Harry was instantly put on the defensive. Curses darker than what most Slytherin even knew existed came piercing towards him at a panic-inducing pace. Blood-boiling Curse, Entrail-expellers, Skin-flaying Curse...each one that even Harry, with his strange affinity towards dark, hadn't yet had the chance of mastering.
Yet, somehow Harry…managed. As the streaks of purple and red came zipping at him, time itself seemed to slow down slightly, the ancient Chamber around him blurring out into the background, allowing him to focus fully on the incoming spells. He wouldn’t say he could see all the Curses in slow-motion, but his mind automatically dissected them apart, predicting their paths and judging which ones would be safe to dodge and which ones were more likely to hit him.
The following minute found Harry playing a very close dance with Death; Each of Riddle’s Curses were chosen specifically to deliver a painfully agonising death—these were the kind of spells that could get any wizard in dire trouble with the Ministry. Though he doubted Riddle gave the slightest care in the world.
There was no margin for error as he frantically switched between slipping past the Curses with almost superhuman dexterity and precision, and blocking them with quick, well-placed ‘Protego!’s—which was, sadly, about every other spell, leaving him no chance to retaliate.
Riddle could cast a couple Curses almost every second, and while they weren't as fast as muggle-bullets, they were fast enough to slip past even olympic athletes. The only silver-lining was that he hadn’t yet felt the need to Chain his spells, else the Duel would’ve been over already. Still, eventually Harry was about to make a mistake and be on the ground either puking his guts out—literally—or having his skin flayed every agonising second…
Then a rock suddenly whizzed past his head, hitting Riddle right under the left eye.
"Don't forget me, Arse-lord!" His sister yelled tauntingly from behind him—as his path in dodging had taken him closer to Riddle.
The boy Dark Lord turned to her, snarling, as a drop of blood trickled down his left cheek. "You Half-breed piece of—!"… and that momentary pause was enough for Harry.
He pounced on it like a drowning man given rope, bursting into his fastest Spell-chain.
“Stupefy!—Depulso!—Flipendo!—Expelliarmus!” His wand flashed in quick swipes and swirls, and one after the other, the four spells cannoned at his target like rocket launchers.
It wasn’t his most powerful Chain, nor the most effective, but many a Dueling books agreed it was the most solid beginner Chain around. It was also one of the least expensive ones, as far as the caster’s Will power and Magic were concerned.
But obviously, it wasn’t enough to take down Riddle.
The boy swished his wand above his head furiously, and half a dozen birds materialised in mid-air at once. "You think mundane charms can bring me down!?" With another twitch of his wand, all birds honed onto the incoming assault, bursting into feathery-bombs one by one upon impact.
By the time Harry cast his last spell, the boy had already dealt with his attack—with the last two birds simply dissipating in thin air—all with one quick swipe of his wand.
Even his fastest Chain of spells couldn’t keep up with silent casting…
Then another rock headed at Riddle’s head. This time, he smacked it out of the air scornfully, but it disallowed him from taking reins of the fight just yet, giving Harry barely enough time to finally find his footing in the Duel and continue his assault with the most lethal Chain in his arsenal—something he'd never used before, even with Snape supervising the Pit.
"Reducto!—Perforó!—Sectumsempra!—Expulso!" His movements were a touch slower this time, and he could feel the Dark Arts sapping at his Will with each Curse leaving his wand, weakening his focus just a little.
A spell took from the mind just as much as it did from body and magic; but some spells were undoubtedly more expensive than others, and Chains were the costliest of all—which is why most Chains were made of cheap, easy to cast spells.
Yet the price was worth it this time.
For the first time in their Duel, Riddle had lost his sneer. The moment Harry started casting, he went down to his knee, wand aimed at the ground and eyes closed in concentration. A mere moment before the impact, he brought his wand high as if summoning something from within the earth, and suddenly a great wall of stone rose up in front of him, bursting out of the crystalline floor.
The Curses struck against the grey stone barrier with wretched crackling shrieks, the sheer shockwave of their explosion shattering the stone into dozens of little pieces like brittle glass.
The true shock came, however, when the shattered pieces of stones hung suspended in the air as if time itself had halted for them.
Behind the curtain of broken stones, Riddle smiled. “And now,” He waved his wand and the chunks of stones began to warp and twist in front of his very eyes, transforming into massive conical daggers…
"Get behind me!" Harry yelled in warning, realising what was about to happen. He pulled to the front, pouring every bit of his focused intention and Will into forming the strongest shield possible, even utilising Occlumency to harness his mind as he bellowed, "Protego!"
A moment later, every single stone dagger came hurling towards him like a rain of concrete needles.
Harry huddled beneath the cover of his shield with Jane hugging his back, weathering the daggerstorm with gritted teeth. Every impact against the barrier felt like it would be the one to finally break in, slamming into his shield with deep, ugly thuds.
Thankfully, the protective barrier held—weak and flickering but still whole—as the last cone of stone fell to the ground, joining the pile littering beneath them.
Harry almost didn’t see the serpents until it was too late.
The proceeding events happened at a pace even he couldn’t properly react to. He turned just in time—after checking if Jane had become a stony pincushion—to see two fanged heads rise from the pile of broken stones, glinting grey and snarling.
“Confringo!” He bellowed instinctively, leaping back to avoid the animated reptiles’ deadly pounce.
The left one was blasted apart, crumbling down into tiny cracked pebbles, while the other fell a leap too short from his leg. But he received no reprieve, his instincts still blaring like it were on a permanent overdrive. Jerking to the left, he avoided a crimson Stunner, before bringing his wand up to Shield the Full Body-Bind Curse.
Unfortunately, by this time, the other serpent had slithered closer amid his dancing and managed to leap straight at his thighs, coiling around his flesh like a tightening noose.
Harry yelled out in agony, stumbling to his knees as his entire leg lit up on fire, the stone-scaled serpent squeezing his thigh with brutal strength, sending cramps up and down. He barely managed to focus through the pain, tapping its stony eyes with the tip of his wand, “Relashio!”
The snake unravelled instantly—falling to the ground, inanimate—but his instincts still hadn’t stopped blaring with urgency, and the reason became blatant when he came face to face with a jet of red the next instance. He tried to dodge, but this time it was too late; there was nothing he could do as the silent Disarmer hit him head-on, sending him on his back whilst his wand left his grip, disappearing away in the green darkness.
Fear clawed at his pounding heart as Harry tried scrambling to his feet, knowing the next spell might quite literally spell the end of him. He didn’t know why Riddle had suddenly gone soft on him, but he wouldn’t be hedging bets on his mercy any time soon. Nor was he ready to die on his knees—even as the bitter taste of defeat clouded his tongue.
Yet, the attack never came.
Slow claps rang through the Chamber at the conclusion of their duel. Ignoring the cramping in his leg—that had, for some reason, yet to subdue—Harry forced himself upright, his breath coming in short pants as he extended a cautious eye ahead. Riddle was standing stationary in the distance, making no move to finish his opponent. “Quite an exquisite performance that was…Harry Potter.” The boy’s smooth voice replaced the sound of their spells in dominating the Chamber. “I didn’t know there was a budding Dark wizard in Hogwarts already.”
Harry ignored the boy, closing his fists to stop its shaking. The truth finally settled in full, as the rush of adrenaline stopped driving his mind: he'd lost. He didn't know why he was still alive, but he'd lost.
Occlumency helped in mastering his fear, even as his mind tried conjuring images of the horrible fate that awaited him in being at Voldemort’s mercy. He glanced to the side, at a kneeling Jane struggling to free her arms from the stone-made handcuffs stuck to the ground, and realised there was no hope of courageous rebellion.
Lockhart was too gone a case to be ever considered as ‘help’.
"You okay?" He still found himself asking, voice hoarse and defeated even to his own ears.
Jane shook her head in frustration. "They won't come off!"
But there was nothing to be done as Voldemort slowly started walking towards them. They had come here looking for a fight; they’d found it, and now they’d lost it.
"I would’ve extended an invitation first, if I'd known.” Riddle continued his gloating, sounding close yet weirdly far away. “I’d wondered briefly, you see? There is a strange likeness between us, Harry Potter. Both of us half-bloods, raised by muggles, sorted in Slytherin…likely the only pair of Parseltongues Hogwarts has ever seen since the great Slytherin himself.” The taller boy slowly sauntered closer still, coming to a halt just a few paces in front of him. “Both outcasts, even in our own House, until we proved ourselves superior. You see, Harry Potter? The only difference is,” Riddle bent down slightly, tilting his head mockingly to peer him in the eyes, a contemptuous sneer suddenly twisting his features. “I didn’t have to consort with mudbloods to do that.”
Anger burnt in Harry’s beating chest as he looked up at the triumphant Dark Lord, though from this close, he quickly realised something odd—Riddle’s body had somehow become weaker, losing a lot of its physical clarity. Harry could almost see through behind him, his image flickering and translucent, as if the mist curtain at his edges had infected the rest of his body.
"Ah, yes." The boy tsked, straightening up, one hand absently caressing at his chest lightly. "That duel took far more from me than I'd anticipated. Hours…likely, days. I must give you credit, I suppose, another couple spells and you might've truly put me in a bind. But no matter, I have one more subject to drain the life of now…” He glanced at Jane, smiling, before looking at a cowering Lockhart in distaste. “two, if I can convince myself the coward's soul won't affect my magic.”
He turned back to him, winking impishly. “You though, I’m afraid, won’t be surviving for long."
Oh, how Harry yearned to tear that jaw apart with his bare hands…
Riddle moved away then, heading towards the Slytherin’s statue, sparing only a single look for his sister. The boy didn’t even bother to tie Harry down, or at least make sure he wouldn’t simply make a break for it. Did the Dark Lord truly think him so defeated, so weak?…or did he simply find the idea of such attempts from him laughable?
Harry straightened up, suddenly feeling a new kind of fire burning within his soul. His entire life in Hogwarts had been spent with him trying to distinguish himself, to not rot in mediocrity and rise up as exceptional…to be something more than a freak. A mere half-faded memory of some Dark Lord wouldn’t take that away from him; he would peel Riddle’s skin off with his teeth one inch at a time, if he needed to.
Mind whirling, he started upon some escape plan. First, his eyes flickered to the right where his wand had disappeared a ways off to, but he quickly dismissed it. Unless he suddenly knew wandless magic, there was no way to search for it without eating a Killing Curse in the back.
For a moment he considered simply tackling Riddle from behind, but the boy was almost a full head taller. If Harry failed, he might no longer have the patience to finish his gloating before ending him.
“Don’t worry,” Riddle glanced back with a smirk, ambling along towards the statue blithely. “This won’t take long.”
‘The Cloak.’ Harry suddenly remembered, feeling the slightest bit foolish. If there was one thing that could turn a hopeless situation around, it was invisibility.
But there was no time for any elaborate plans as the teen Dark Lord turned to face the face of Salazar Slytherin, coming to a halt, before starting to hiss. "Speak to me, Slytherin, the greatest of the Hogwarts four."
Harry understood him perfectly.
"Oh, fuck." A new horror began dawning on him as the jaw of Slytherin slowly began lowering. The reason why Riddle hadn’t tried to kill him yet—aside from his obvious weakening—suddenly became clear: Harry was being served for dinner.
"What? What did he say?" Jane asked from his side, but in a moment, it would no longer matter.
Harry hurriedly pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket, moving towards his sister. “Get under, quick! And stay quiet.” The girl nodded quickly.
Luckily, her stone-shackles lost their magic once beneath the Cloak, transforming back into broken cone-shaped daggers and letting her free.
Then, hiding quietly under the cloak, the two laid witness to a scene of horror.
As the jaw lowered past the statue’s robed knees, a great scaly snout began slithering out of its stony-lips. An overwhelming smell of rotting waste and putrid ammonia infected the Chamber at the monster's arrival, making his mind flash back to the Troll in his first year.
Sitting beside him, Jane gagged. “Well…we definitely don’t need to wonder what kind of pipes it might’ve roamed.”
Harry agreed. Merlin knows how long the Basilisk spent swimming in Hogwarts’ shit.
But shit-faced or not, there was no sight quite as terrifying as watching its great horned bulk slowly slithering down Slytherin's legs, glinting matte green under the Chamber's poisonous hue.
"Merlin," Jane breathed in sharply, her auburn hair, now tinged with grey dust from the stones, tickling at his face. "It's much bigger than I thought."
Harry pawed her hair away, warning gravely, “Don't look it in the eyes."
"I know. But what do we do now?"
He wrinkled his nose, looking back at the Chamber's exit. "We get out of here, as quickly as we can."
"What about Ginny?"
Harry hesitated, glancing at the girl's still body. "We'll just have to hope McGonagall is back and convince her of the truth. Now that we know the facts for sure, it shouldn't be hard."
"But Ginny won't survive that long!" Jane whispered back furiously.
"You heard Riddle. He doesn't plan to kill her yet. We'll just have to hope the teachers arrive quickly enough to save her."
Harry could absolutely be wrong and the girl could die in the next minute, but it was a little too late for doubts right now. The king of serpents had arrived, plopping down from the statue with a heavy thud, and dragging itself upright upon the Chamber floor.
"Master…let me kill…so hungry…for so long. Let me rip them… tear their flesh. Rip and kill!"
Harry shivered. First, they needed to get back to Hogwarts, preferably in one piece…then they could take care of discount-Voldemort and his pet snake.
Turning to Jane, he quietly began instructing, "Stand up slowly and turn around. The Cloak should keep us hidden all the way, though I doubt Riddle will let us leave quite as easily."
As if Murphy himself was eavesdropping on them, just as they began moving, they heard Riddle whisper from behind. "Kill him!"
Heart in his throat, he quickly whipped his head around to see if they’d already been busted. Thankfully, the boy had just pointed at the other side, where a trembling Lockhart was crawling on the floor, sobbing helplessly as he wandered around into darkness in hopes of escaping.
Even still, he felt his breath freeze in his chest as the massive serpent began slithering towards the left pillar. The rumble of its movement was like a living landslide, echoing deep within his chest.
He had to actively fight the urge to close his eyes as the Basilisk reached the hapless professor; no matter his crimes, Lockhart deserved a sentence in Azkaban, not a painful death from a situation Harry had forced him into.
It was over as quickly as it began. There was no fanfare, no sudden force of light at the last moment to save them. The Basilisk extended down its long neck towards Lockhart, opened its mouth full of razor sharp fangs, and with one quick snap of its powerful jaws, tore him in half—separating his left side; hand and half a chest, from the rest of his body that plopped lifelessly down onto the floor.
The bloody image of Lockhart's intestine spilling out of his half-remaining gut whilst the green venom of Basilisk ate through all the visible bones burnt itself in Harry's mind, to always be remembered as a lesson: 'Life was cheaper than what most would have us believe.'
As Riddle's cruel laughter spread through the chamber, Jane buried her face in his neck, shivering arms clenching around his waist tightly.
"We have to move." He whispered numbly, and the two began their silent march towards the exit, keeping to the centre between the pillars.
"Now, where did you two go?" Riddle asked behind them, sounding not one bit concerned. Neither of them looked back, but they heard him cast loud and clear. "Finite!"
Nothing happened.
"An invisibility Cloak, then." The boy hummed. "Very good. This will make my job easier once I'm out of the castle." Then, turning to the Basilisk, he whispered again. "Fetch them."
To their dismay, the snake instantly honed in on them.
Riddle laughed again. "You must have surely forgotten…a Basilisk's sense of smell is second to none. Something an Invisibility Cloak does not hide."
The realisation was instant.
Turning to Jane, Harry uttered blankly, "Run."
Then they were sprinting across the Chamber, heart thudding into their chest from the rushing adrenaline, the invisibility Cloak half-slipping away from their shoulders.
“Leave the girl.”
It happened too fast for him to react. One moment his feet were tearing through the ground, quickly and reluctantly outpacing Jane, the next a great weight hit him from the side, smashing him shoulder-first towards the nearest pillar, the Cloak slipping off of him completely…
The impact was crushing. His shoulder slammed against the emerald eyes of the stone column, before his face greeted the sticky, cold floor. It took a moment to hit in, but the Pain that lit through his entire right-side was like red, hot fire.
‘The tail…’ His dazed mind supplied as he struggled to push himself upright.
‘Move.’ He commanded his feet, but the fire had spread beneath the waist now, numbing his right leg.
‘Move!’ He wanted to yell yet no sound came, and he remained where he was.
And through the blinding pain and rising panic, he felt the Basilisk closing in, felt it gliding along the crystalline floor…and yet, his legs did not move.
‘I’m going to die.’ The words rang like the final truth of his disappointingly short life.
He had lived a fairly eventful life till now; a life of conflict and action. How many near-death experiences had he survived? There was bound to be a time when he wouldn’t. No one could realistically dance along the edge of Death and get away with their life every single time.
He should’ve known better than to think he was special.
Time seemed to crawl as the Basilisk hissed behind him, slithering closer and closer still, and suddenly he knew, with all his heart…he did not wish to die.
He did not wish to disappear in obscurity, to be remembered only as a footnote in some recounting of this tale—a mere victim of the Slytherin’s Heir that finally lodged the last nail in Hogwarts’ coffin. Harry Potter, a boy who foolishly walked into the jaws of danger and died a worthless death. No. He defied it.
He cannot die. Not yet.
…And then it happened.
There was something so nostalgically familiar about the darkness that began bubbling beneath his face; as the emerald eyes of the engraved snakes began losing their intensity, as the deep blackness of the Chamber grew stronger…even as something clattered and clanged within the mysterious stygian depths.
The darkness washed over him like a wave of cool breeze, and Harry had never felt stronger before. The pain disappeared away like it was never there, and everything around him moved with a slowness that had absolutely nothing to do with Time.
…Then he pushed himself to his feet, and with him arose an army of bone skeletons, each with burning eyes of black fire. Skeletons of humans, bulls, giant elephants, and even a massive saber-toothed tiger…they littered the Chamber floor in dozens. Some humanoids clutched long pikes with both hands—blue ribbons wrapped around their throats and waist—while some were fully equipped with helmet and armour, clutching spears and red Greatshields.
And leading them at their head, gripping a phantom wand, was a zombified Lockhart.
A part of him wondered why he was smiling, wondered what all of this meant, wondered why he wasn’t on the ground, screaming and running in terror at the sight of such creatures…but a larger part simply revelled in the taste of power so grand he could drown Riddle alive in it.
“What—what illusion is this—!?” The sheer bewildered fear in knockout-Voldemort’s voice was like a soothing balm to his soul.
Sadly, it was over as quickly as it had begun. The great, mysterious power that had captured his mind vacated him as soon as he waved one hand forward, letting the skeleton army loose upon the confusedly hissing Basilisk.
Amid the serpent's shrieks of pain and rage as it was assaulted by all sides, Harry fell down to his knees, drained and panting for breath. The pain returned to his side, not quite as intense, but throbbing enough for him to notice.
But it was nothing in front of the spectacle ahead. The skeletons tore at the Basilisk; the red greatshield warriors in a well-maintained formation, and the pike holders with great dexterous leaps. They slashed and poked at its belly and tail, trying to bring the monstrous creature down.
Yet, the King of Serpents was aptly named. Most of the attacks simply failed to penetrate its armoured hide, and its panicked thrashes and tail strikes were able to crack multiple skeletons into pieces. Even more chilling, every time it closed its fang-filled jaw around a skeleton, its dark green venom would melt through their bones like a candle under fire. But for every skeleton it managed to destroy, two more took its place, hacking and slashing at its thick hide with no concern for safety.
Harry made sure never to stare at the snake's eyes, but it didn't seem to affect the skeleton army whatsoever…likely because their eyes were empty sockets that burnt with darkness.
Soon, the Basilisk was pushed on the verge of being overwhelmed. Zombie Lockhart’s rapid Memory Charms were powerful enough to give the creature a pause, creating a small window of opportunity for the skeletons to pile up on its long, scaled body in droves. With the skeleton-bulls and elephants ramming it from the side, and the tusked-tiger climbing up its spine—clawing and biting with its boney structure—the Basilisk's upper body was soon forced down upon the ground, giving easy access for the warriors.
And as tough as the creature’s skin was, with dozens of sharpened spears and pikes striking a common spot, it gave way soon enough, spurting fresh red blood in the air.
The sight finally managed to bring Harry back to his senses. Ignoring his stinging side, he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling like a drunken troll, even as a part of him continued witnessing the sight ahead with incredulous disbelief. ‘Did I…really just do this?’
He remembered the feeling of enlightenment within the darkness, remembered the sheer strength brimming in his limbs—as if he could wrestle a lion and come out on top—but it all seemed like a quickly vanishing dream now, and no matter how much he tried to hold onto it, it slipped through between his fingers like rushing water.
Yet, one thing he came to accept for certain: he had indeed done this. He didn’t know how, but he had called upon the skeletons, and he had unleashed them upon the Basilisk.
The sheer prospect boggled his mind. How could he have done this without ever understanding it? While he’d read about Inferi and its creation in some of the darkest texts in the restricted section, he’d never even tried to learn the process.
‘...And this definitely isn’t accidental magic.’ It simply wasn’t possible. Even some of the vilest Dark Lords in history had never been reported to show such absurd accidental magic. This was Necromancy, through and through.
…But how?
Sadly such questions held no place in a battlefield, as a massive ball of fire suddenly impacted against the Basilisk’s back, blasting half a dozen skeletons away. The serpent remained relatively unharmed.
Harry quickly whirled around, finding Riddle with his wand extended—the boy had finally gotten over his surprise and realised he was still a wizard.
'Shit.' With Riddle's support, there was a good chance the Basilisk would prevail in this fight.
The moment he finished the thought however, a cry of 'Expelliarmus!' went up from the other side, and a red jet slammed into discount-Dark Lord in the blink of an eye. He was clearly caught by surprise, but in a true battle it did not matter. Jane's wand wrenched itself from his fingers and the boy was blasted onto his back, defeated in a shockingly quick manner.
"Yes!" Came an invisible exclamation. The perpetrator was soon revealed—from within the grasps of darkness came running a mysterious ginger, clutching his Invisibility Cloak in one hand, and leaping up to snatch her airborne wand in the other, before holding her prize aloft triumphantly.
The grin on her face was oddly comforting.
“Jane!” Harry snapped, quickly rushing towards the girl as the Basilisk went berserk behind him. “Throw me my wand!”
She didn’t waste a moment’s time, hurling it across the Chamber, and this time it was Harry’s turn to catch a wand.
Confidence surged within him with his weapon back in possession. Ignoring an enraged Riddle in the background, he trained his wand on the thrashing Basilisk—who looked a second away from escaping the skeleton army’s hold—and cast the spell he’d specifically prepared for it. “Oculi Afflictio!”
The Conjunctivitis curse flew in the direction of what he guessed to be the Basilisk’s left eye. Either his aim was even better than he’d thought, or the god of luck was by his side, for the Curse successfully hit the serpent’s eye in the first try.
The shriek of pain that escaped the creature’s mouth was almost ear-splitting. It struggled even strongly against the skeletal hold, blindly writhing and thrashing to destroy anything it could reach. Thankfully, with only half its eyesight, its efforts were worse than before; every time it tried to take a bite out of its enemies, it seemed to miss embarrassingly.
The weight of the skeletal elephants pressing against its back was enough to keep it contained long enough for Harry to aim and fire again. This time, it took him multiple tries, but the Basilisk soon lost the use of its last eye, becoming completely blind. At least, temporarily.
“No…no, no—No!” Riddle screeched from across the Chamber, half-crazed. “You will pay for that! Both of you!” He visibly struggled to control himself, taking a deep, calming breath, but there was fear in his eyes now, and a hatred that far surpassed it. “I have played with you long enough." He quickly walked over and bent down towards Ginny’s prone body, fishing around in her coat. "It's time for you to meet your end. No matter the cost."
Harry didn’t wait to find what the boy was searching for, swiftly casting the first lethal spell that popped in his mind. “Reducto!”
To his surprise, the spell managed to land cleanly, striking Riddle straight in his chest and turning the impacted area of his Hogwarts robe into fine mist. The bigger problem, however, was the large bloody hole left behind in his torso.
Shockingly, the boy did not die. He straightened up slowly—as if there wasn't a massive gaping cavity in his chest—clutching Ginny Weasley's wand in hand.
Mad glinting eyes glanced up, smiling coldly. "Did you truly think Lord Voldemort would die so easily? I, who had started upon my path to immortality far before even finishing Hogwarts? No, Harry Potter. I am beyond death. And by the time I end your worthless life, you will know this for certain."
His chest was already beginning to fill up as he spoke, white phantom wisps of smoke seemingly regenerating his organs and skin.
A panting Jane quickly joined him from the other side of the pillars, her wand in hand. “He can’t die?”
“Apparently not.” Harry muttered, trying to come up with a solution.
But the Dark Lord was done talking. Swishing his new wand through the air, he started casting.
For all of Riddle's confidence in himself however, Harry could easily feel the difference in his power. Whereas before, every single one of his spells hit like a sledgehammer—forcing Harry to dance around like a monkey—now a single Protego was able to shield multiple rounds of attacks without cracking.
That wasn’t to say the boy wasn’t handily kicking their combined arses. Even with him and Jane teaming up against him, and the boy only using cheap Charms and basic Transfigurations, Riddle was able to push them back one spell at a time. Every attack was like a layered trap; one moment they were shielding against a wave of fire, a second later the fire had turned into half a dozen tiny dragons that tried to slip past their shields—only Jane’s quick Aguamenti and his wide-cast Extinguishing Charm saved them from being roasted alive.
Honestly, it was terrifying. Jane was no slouch herself; being almost as fast and skilled as him, and easily more experienced. She linked up with him beautifully; everytime he blocked Riddle's more simpler attacks, she replied with a quick Stunner or two. Together, the two could likely Duel most of the seventh years and come out on top. Yet, it was of no use against a teenage Voldemort.
Worse, Harry could feel his own approaching fatigue as well. Magic wasn't a quantifiable form of energy; it didn't have a specific bar or some spherical well inside a Wizard's body to draw from. It was much like a muscle, the more one used it, the quicker it was exhausted. Kind of similar to Will power—the more concentration a spell took, the weaker their focus becomes with time.
And Harry had been throwing around Dark Curses all day long—the type of spells that sapped one's intent and magic like a sponge. He was swiftly approaching his limit. His body begged for rest—his Wand arm was pounding mercilessly, still stressed from being battered against the pillar—and the intensity of his magic lowered steadily with every round of Riddle’s attack they survived.
Soon, they were forced on their last legs—beaten, injured, and pushed around like kids on a playground—and he knew they wouldn’t be surviving for long. The moment his body or magic failed him, the Duel would be over. Jane couldn’t survive long without his help, and while Riddle looked to be slowly and steadily weakening as well, it wasn’t fast enough to stop their imminent defeat.
Just when Harry gave up hope and decided to try one last reckless hail-mary attempt, help suddenly arrived from the most unexpected source. The Dagger-for-teeth tiger was like a gust of wind as it sprinted past them, galloping straight for Riddle, who instantly changed his targets—already having seen it coming behind them.
“Expulso!” For the first time, Riddle cast a spell verbally, hitting the bone-creature in its ribcage. The explosion blasted half the ribs away, but the tusked-tiger looked barely inconvenienced, vaulting a great leap to pounce on a quickly backtracking Dark Lord.
Riddle fell on his back, only a thin blue shield protecting him from having his throat ripped apart by the bladelike canines in its boney jaws. The creature stood its front legs against the shield and tried to bite off the boy’s head, but the phantom-Dark Lord managed to shove it to the side, quickly rolling away.
"Worthless creature!" He barked, hurriedly aiming his wand back at the creature. A mere moment before he could become history, he managed to cast a Reductor and blow its entire skull into pieces.
That seemed to do the trick, as the creature crumbled into individual bones that promptly dissolved in the earth.
But that was just the beginning. From beside them, a visibly thinned wave of Skeleton army advanced upon the Dark Lord, who suddenly had far greater problems than a couple of Hogwarts students.
Finally gaining a moment of respite, Harry let his body fall to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, taking a deep, relieved breath.
“D-do you know…what those things are?” Jane asked over the noise of the clash ahead apprehensively, having backed away in alarm at the sight of the dead. Wide eyes observed the marching army with barely concealed incredulity as she came to kneel beside him.
He supposed he should be feeling just as unnerved, but for some reason, their presence seemed to bring him much comfort.
But why?
“Animated skeletons.” Harry shrugged. “Seems to be on our side.”
There were many questions bubbling in his chest on the subject, some that threatened to collapse his mental faculties entirely with their gravity, but he was simply too tired to even think right now.
He glanced behind him, taking in the Basilisk’s dead body punctured by the many spears and pikes that had pierced cleanly through the inside of its fanged mouth—putting holes straight in its head. Its mouth was hanging open in a last unending hiss, lethal venom glinting dark green along the long row of fangs.
Ahead, Riddle had let go of any sort of restraint whatsoever in his efforts to fend off the skeletons. He retaliated with far advanced knowledge than either of them possessed, Transfiguring mounds of ground into jawed traps, or spewing poisonous green flames that seemed to melt through the skeletons like flaming acid…yet with each such show of power, he grew weaker and fainter, until even Harry found it hard to differentiate him from a ghost.
But he also refused to die.
"I’ve got an idea!" Jane exclaimed suddenly, removing his Cloak that she’d stashed in her robe and disappearing into thin air again. A few seconds later, a yell of ‘Accio!’ came a little ways away from the fight, and Riddle’s diary suddenly went zooming through the air, straight in the hands of the invisible ginger.
She came scampering back just as quickly, removing the Invisibility Cloak and handing it over. "Riddle said he was trapped in this Diary for many decades, didn’t he? What if his life is still tied to it? Maybe if we destroy it…”
“He would be destroyed as well.” Harry muttered, forcing his tired mind to work again. “Either that, or…he would simply become whole in this new body.”
“But he’d be killable, wouldn’t he?”
Harry nodded. “He’d be mortal.”
Standing up slowly, he aimed his wand at the book. Jane placed it down on the floor, and backed away. “Confringo!” The spell blasted the Diary in the air, but aside from looking a little charred, there was no sign of any damage at all.
Harry frowned.
“Something stronger maybe?” Jane proposed uncertainly.
Closing his eyes, Harry willed his entire focus on a single spell, gathering every last drop of magic from within his muscles. “Perfora Corporis!”
It was one of the darkest Curses in his arsenal, meant to punch multiple bullet-like holes in the subject—especially living subject whose vitals it could shred, but it worked almost as fine on any object.
The spell impacted against the book with tiny thudding explosions that buried it deeper in the ground. Jane bent down to pick it up, dusting the dirt away to reveal…
The Diary had remained completely unscathed.
Instead of being discouraged, both of them took that as a sign to mean they were on the right track. In the next few minutes, Jane tried lighting it on fire, drenching it in water and physically tearing it in two, Transfiguring it into a rat that they could squash, all the while a loud battle continued in the background…
Yet, nothing worked.
At the fore, Riddle had managed to destroy a large portion of the skeleton army. The Bone-breaker Curse proved to be the antithesis of the skeletons—kind of obvious, but it isn’t something one thinks of when faced with the dead. A headshot with the Curse easily dealt with the boney mammoths—forcing them to be swallowed back into the ground—whilst the fleshless humanoid warriors struggled to pin the boy down without getting a whip full of fire on their faces.
“We’re running out of time.” Jane fretted, pacing the floor, before her eyes darted above his shoulders. She paused in place.
Harry turned to glance at her object of focus, and the idea popped in his head as well. “Basilisk venom?”
Jane nodded.
With the Diary in hand, Harry walked over to the behemoth serpent’s corpse, suppressing the urge to gag. The serpent’s eyes were swollen shut, though Harry was mighty aware that there was a chance the Basilisk’s gaze could still work—Conjunctivitis Curse didn’t permanently damage the eyes, after all. Upon reaching the corpse, he carefully knelt beside its head—which was bigger than his entire body. Then, holding the book with both hands, he slammed it on its biggest fang, taking care not to get his hand pierced.
To his instant surprise, the fang went in quick, like hot knife through a cold knob of butter. And as black, inky blood drooled out of the wounded Diary, trickling down the poisonous fang, an inhuman shriek of pain suddenly assaulted his ears from behind. Turning around, he witnessed a large gaping hole had once again formed in Riddle’s chest, but instead of spurting blood this time, it leaked a blinding white light that seemed to burn the skeletons around him.
Needing absolutely no further encouragement, Harry slid the pierced book out of the fang—
“No, no—!”
—And slammed it down once more, this time fully pressing it to the bottom of the fang—along with a duo of its neighbours. The three fangs shredded the Diary apart, piercing all the through to the other side.
Behind him, Riddle was blasted open like a Pinata. He writhed and twisted onto the floor, screaming and begging, before his ghost-like body slowly dissolved into motes of light. The last expression on his face was one of pure pain and fear.
Absolute silence returned to the Chamber of Secrets once more. With the sudden and anti-climactic disappearance of Voldemort, the handful of remaining skeletons faded out into the earth as well.
In the aftermath, there remained nothing but a battered pair of Hogwarts students in the Chamber, as if the entire battle had only been in their imagination. The sole evidence was the large cracks on the floor…and the dead corpse of the King of Serpents a mere couple feet beside him.
“Well…that answers the question.” Jane broke the quiet, inspecting the Chamber as if to assure there were no more hidden monsters. “So…” She turned back to him. “How exactly did you call your skeletal friends?”
Harry closed his eyes and sat down beside the Basilisk, leaning against its reeking mouth. “I have absolutely no idea.” And he refused to ponder upon it until he had a bed underneath his body.
Their attention was taken by a cough near the Slytherin’s statue. Both whirled towards the noise, wand raised, before quickly calming down. The red-haired girl who had gone under the radar through the entire battle finally seemed to be waking up.
Harry sighed in relief. ‘Seems like Hogwarts wouldn’t be closing, after all.’
Jane made to approach her hurriedly only to halt in a sudden pause, turning to him.
"Go see to her." He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."
Now completely spent, he let his head hit the ground, finally done with the day.
----------------------------
Beneath the small stepway that led up to the Headmaster's tower, Harry found himself leaning against the nearest wall, panting. Sweat dripped down his chin, and he could feel his heart racing like a wild horse.
'Yep…that wasn't magic.' He concluded wearily, breathing deep to catch his breath, the effects of Occlumency finally vacating his mind. 'That was…something else.'
Something he didn't understand, but had apparently been using subconsciously for almost half a decade now. Something just as strange and powerful as magic, yet entirely unique.
Something he should've tried understanding way before today. He might not have needed to kiss the robes of death so many times to get to this point.
Taking one last deep breath, he composed himself. While the questions were many, and answers to them few, he had a meeting with the returned Headmaster. After that, he would have plenty of time to ponder his existence.
Walking past the stepway to Head's tower, he came face to face with an ugly stone Gargoyle.
"Sherbet Lemon."
To his surprise, the Gargoyle suddenly sprung to life, jumping to a side to reveal a plain grey wall behind it. A deep grinding echo resonated from the wall, before the entire structure parted in two, unveiling a set of spiralling staircase that rotated upwards, like a constantly coiling escalator.
He quickly climbed up on a step, ready to be done with this as swiftly as possible.
The Headmaster was not a figure Harry was overly fond of right now. He might no longer hate his sister as much—an understatement, if he was being honest—but the last year House Cup should definitely have been theirs. The man might’ve been his hero in his first year—someone Harry had desperately tried to emulate once upon a time—but who in their right mind rewards blatant rule-breaking and endangerment of life? Albus Dumbledore, that's who.
‘Then again…wasn’t that exactly what I did today?’ Hopefully the headmaster would prove just as generous this time.
The escalator soon brought him to the very top, where awaited a gleaming oak door with a brass knock in the shape of a griffin-head.
Stepping off, he knocked on the door and waited quietly for a moment. The door clicked open by itself, a calm command of 'Enter!' issuing from the room. He took another deep breath, readying himself for the interrogation. He doubted the headmaster would punish him for breaking the rules, considering he did just save the entire school. All he needed to do was answer a few questions and get out.
Then…then, he would start finding answers to the mystery of his life.
Without further preamble, Harry pushed past the door and entered inside.
----------------------------
AN: That's about done. Another chapter remaining that I really hope to post today. The rest, I'll talk in a new post.
Let me know if you enjoyed this, take care and have a wonderful day.
Comments
Robs511
Yeah, I do have Goblins in mind for his main weapon. I'm still working out the details, but whatever I come up with will have equal representation from HP magic and PJO divinity.
CelticNative
Just a subjection maybe you could have Harry raise a goblin or multiple to forge his weapon put of the metals you pick, while using their methods/enchantments.
Robs511
Heh it's more that I was woefully inexperienced when starting out with MGO. It was my first story, after all. As for the ideas, I'm always open to suggestions and I'm gonna make some polls for the same purpose, but for this story I want things to be a little more grounded. Plus, Harry will just naturally be an attractive guy, so no need for reincarnation. Though I doubt he will have a harem in this; he will definitely have multiple flings and partners throughout the story but might end up with one or even no permanent lover (maybe, haven't decided anything concrete yet). And for a rare metal that only Harry would possess, I do have some ideas in mind. Not Stygian Iron—i don't wanna change canon unnecessarily—but something entirely new. Might make a poll for it too. Anyway, hope you enjoy the coming chapters, will be posting soon.
Gamer
I was wondering if you were ever gonna make another PJO story. No offense, but as a PJO story, Mortal God feels a little underwhelming, though I attribute that to the DxD elements due to how crazy DxD gets, particularly in powerscaling. And Harry should not easily forgive his mother or sister(s), heck if they wish to have any semblance of a relationship with Harry, it’ll be as his lovers (and I also say that since I know your penchant of pairing your MC’s with female relatives, not that I blame you). So, given the darkness affinity, summoning of skeleton warriors, and Harry’s tendency of holding grudges, it’s painfully obvious that his divine parent is Hades. Personally, I would have gone with either him or even Chaos (largely so that Harry could have unmatched potential and incredible abilities at his disposal, including his own variant of Chaos Magic). After seeing this story and knowing it’s a crossover with PJO, there are 2 ideas/requests I wanted to give you that I hope you can at least consider: 1.) Do you think that, in addition to being the Demigod son of Hades and a Wizard, that Harry could be the reincarnation of Adonis? Souls can be reborn as new individuals upon bathing in the River Lethe in PJO/Greek-Mythology, and Adonis was the most handsome male of all time to the point that even Goddesses couldn’t resist him, and that was as a “regular” mortal. If Harry was the reincarnation of Adonis, and combine that with both his Divine heritage and magic, then even the most strong-willed of Goddesses will be hopelessly attracted to him. Could serve as an explanation and justification for why Harry can form a pretty large harem of the hottest babes that HP and PJO has to offer, and why he can get away with many lovers when other males can’t (which would make Zeus jealous even without considering females like Hera being interested in him). 2.) Do you think that Harry could be the exclusive owner of Stygian Iron in your story? Stygian Iron is the rarest and most versatile divine metal in the PJO universe, with it being indestructible, capable of harming both mortals and immortals alike, can absorb magic, and can empower the user by absorbing the essence of victims, with only Hades and his children being able to use it. However, with this being AU, you could have it where Stygian Iron is infinitely rarer to the point Harry has a sword made of the only Stygian Iron in existence. There’s just something about the notion of Harry having exclusive access to arguably the greatest and rarest divine metal to the point that not even his father would have access to it that sounds so appealing and special and unique.
