"And they tell you that you're lucky
But you're so confused,
'Cause, you don't feel pretty, you just feel used.
And all the young things line up to take your place
Another name goes up in lights
You wonder if you'll make it out alive
And they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one.
Yeah, they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one.
Can you tell me now, you're the lucky one
Oh, oh, oh."

---

Song: The Lucky One, Taylor Swift

---

LI - Ranking and Titles

---

"Miss Chase," Dumbledore said. "Let us discuss in a different and safer environment."

Annabeth opened her mouth to protest but was stopped by the looks from her friends. Slowly, she stalked forward and took the bloody blade. She did not sheathe it.

"Professor!" Someone suddenly wailed.

Dumbledore turned to face Amabilia, and the men supporting her barely conscious father. "Miss Venterance, what is your father doing in the robes of a death eater?" Sirius turned his face away.

"I don't know!" She sobbed.

"Imperius Curse," The man managed to cough out. "I was under his spell until Ama stabbed me." Dumbledore's eyebrows rose.

"Then we are in haste." He took a large shard of glass from the floor and whispered a spell. "Demigods, Miss O'Broin, Mr. and Miss Venterance, Fudge, and any man he chooses, let us depart to Hogwarts. It is safer there."

"Gather round, this is a portkey." The demigods warily shuffled forward and the large group all laid their hands on the glass, Fudge looking uncomfortable. Finally, after a strange feeling of their insides being turned inside out, they appeared in the vacant headmaster's office.

"Mr. Solace, and Miss..." He looked at Kayla.

"Knowles. Kayla Knowles. Daughter of Apollo." Dumbledore nodded.

"Please take Mr. Jackson and Mr. Ventrence to the hospital wing immediately," Dumbeldore said. "Mrs Granger, if you could find Professor McGonagall, that would be great." They nodded.

Will helped Ama's father, who gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek, and Percy was pried away from a pained Annabeth by Kayla. As the door swing shut behind them though, her anger returned and she turned to the minister.

He stared at the demigods with a pale face. "I-I-"

"Save your breath." Annabeth snapped. "You are at the mercy of not us, but the gods."

He cowered, and Annabeth levelled him with a harsh stare for a few moments. But without a single warning, her face softened, and she gave a mocking smile. "Luckily for you, they are feeling merciful today. You will not repent, not yet at least." She turned away.

"I am the Minister of Magic, girl. Do not threaten me." He said, voice strangely steady. Annabeth paused, before slowly looking over her shoulder and giving a slow smile as she turned back to face him.

"My mother is Athena. Do you know who she is, Minister?" He shook his head. She laughed. "Athena." She repeated slowly, accentuating each syllable.

Her eyes were harsh. "Goddess of Arts and Crafts. Of the council. Patron of Athens, and her protector. Goddess of Battle Strategy and oh, of course, Strategic Warfare. My mother is the wisest Olympian, serving as her father, my grandfather, Zeus's closest advisor."

He blanched. Annabeth smiled, on a roll. "And I am her child. Tell me, Minister, do you think that I follow in my mother's footsteps?" He wasn't given time to answer. "I have. I have restored the Athena Parenthos, and fought Titans, Giants, and the Earth-Mother herself."

"You try to scare me with your titles, but yet I have to laugh." She stepped close then, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and bringing the shorter man closer to her alight face. "Your titles mean nothing to me. Your name means nothing. Your ministry means nothing. You are a speck of dirt upon this land. You are not seen by even the far-seeing eyes of the archers."

He whimpered and glanced at Dumbledore. But strangely, the old wizard was nowhere to be found. In fact, there were no other wizards in the room. "Let me tell you a story," She said, her voice sickly sweet. She forced him into the chair.

---

LII - A Story for the Unwise

---

"Twenty-Two, almost Twenty-Three now, years ago the God of The Sea sired a child with a mortal woman. Let's call her... Sally ." The demigods grinned and leaned back. "But Poseidon soon left Sally and her son, returning to his palace. The next years were rough on the mother and son, and she made great sacrifices to protect her son."

"When he was twelve, Zeus's weapon was stolen and he blamed this boy. The other king, The Unseen, had a helm that had been stolen and he too blamed the boy. So he sent one of his Furies, yet the boy vanquished her. Sally and her child, along with a friend, attempted to make it to the place where demigods are safe, but Zeus's anger overcame him."

"He struck their car and they were thrown out of it. But their troubles were not over, as the Minotaur, a half-bull half man-creature, had found them. Sally was practically killed by it, and the son lost it, and slew the beast."

"Yet still, his troubles were far from over. Soon, Poseidon claimed him as his own, a scandal. The big three had sworn never to sire a demigod again, yet here this boy was. And then, the Oracle declared he was to quest and find the bolt by the Solstice."

"He took two friends and together they travelled the country, meeting monsters at every turn. One day, they met a man. But do not be fooled, for this was not a man, this was a god. Ares, the god of war and bloodshed had found the child and had offered help, offered them food, travel, and bags. He took it and they were escorted to a city. Once they left that city, they found the entrance to the underworld and travelled down."

"There the son confronted The Wealthy One and learned of the stolen helm. The son swore he had stolen nothing, yet the king asked what was in his bag. The bolt was in his bag, and the son had been framed. He and his companions escaped and found themselves on a beach, and Ares was there."

"He was angry at being deceived. Angry at everything. So he challenged the god to a fight, and whoever drew the other's blood first, won, and the other would leave. The fight was brutal and long, but the hero drew blood and thus won. He returned home, returned the bolt, and the lightning thief was revealed. There is more, but that is not important."

Annabeth met his eyes, "Tell me minister, who do you think this hero was?" The man gave a pathetic shrug, and Annabeth grinned, large and sharp.

"The boy you tortured. The boy I love, the boy who is the greatest hero of an age. You tortured him and you drew blood. You are lucky to stand, lucky that oaths were made before your people were even around." She stepped back.

Nico spoke, "Minister, you will never get another warning like this. Chaos is the reason you still stand, and you would do best to never forget that mercy. May the gods receive your soul, for I cannot."

"You can...receive my soul?"

Nico looked at him. "I am the son of the Unseen King, The Wealthy One. Hades, Lord of the Underworld. I am the Ghost King, and my blade is Thnisimótita, the blade of mortality. It was a gift from him. Souls are my domain and yours is so fragile and boneless that it is unfit for even the lowest blade." Nico turned and left, the rest of the demigods following.

Cornelius Fudge sat in shock and fear in the office for a very long time.

---

LIII - A Sinners Regret

---

Dolores Umbridge had made a thousand choices in the past year as anyone else would. Choice after choice, word after action, action after word. And she so seldom regretted her choices, that regret, the burning venom that was regret, stripped her raw.

The people, the silver-clad women, did not touch her. They did not speak to her, and only gave her warm food and cool water. Umbridge was lucky, by any estimate. But this, this feeling, of shame and guilt and the cavern that is left behind, is not luck.

There's vague, hazy memories of someone talking to her, a power so thick in the air one could almost taste it. Someone had been talking to her, but the memories wouldn't clear. All that was left behind was a deep-rooted fear in her heart. And a smell that she couldn't quite place...salt maybe.

And then one day she's unceremoniously dropped at the Ministries front door. She picks herself up, dusts the dirt off her once nice clothes. She fixes her hair in a window, and steps into the marble halls of law, a newfound grudge coddled in her heart.