{I've been told there is a glitch with this chapter but I can't see anything wrong. Please let me know if you see anything glitchy, thanks my children}

T W E N T Y - T H R E E
⋙⋘

Harry stood stock still as his brain tried to process his thoughts. His instincts were screaming at him and he couldn't for the life of himself figure out why. Alarm bells were blaring in his head, growing louder and louder– the same alarm bells that used to go off around Voldemort. The same alarm bells that now only went off when he was around Clarisse or Annabeth.

The same alarm bells that were loudest around Percy; the boy who wore his grief like a second skin.

Harry didn't know what made him do what he did next. Perhaps it was because when he looked at Percy he saw something familiar– the look in his eyes, that of someone who'd had so much taken from them and few things given back in return. The way his smile never quite seemed real anymore as it had when he first met him. And then there was the sadness, held back by thin walls that were crumbling.

Any outside observer would have seen only a broken boy who needed help. Maybe that's what Harry would have seen if his instincts weren't telling him otherwise.

Suspicious. Odd. Mysterious. Can't be trusted.

That's what his instincts were telling him. All the signs were pointing to whether or not there was more to Percy Jackson than met the eye and if he could be trusted or not.

If you had asked him yesterday, Harry would have said; "yes, he's hiding something," and "no, he can't be trusted." Now he wasn't so sure of the second one. How could someone like that possibly be...dare he suggest it– evil?

He couldn't. Could he?

It didn't matter anyway, because for once in his life, Harry ignored his instincts and put a mute on the alarm bells and the screaming in his gut and did something else– he went after Percy.

He went after Percy, ignoring the obvious truth that something was off.

He went after Percy because he knew that the boy was strong.

But even the strongest fell.

Harry knew because he'd come so close to falling, to giving up, and he feared that someday he would fall and there would be no one there to stop him. The look Percy bore was one he was all to familiar with. It was the same one he was met with in the mirror every morning. It was the reflection of someone with great strength, but also great weakness.

He went after Percy because he saw something inside of him that was akin to something inside of himself.

He went after Percy because no matter what, they were both Gryffindors; friends. Harry would look out for him as others had once done for him.

Percy wasn't okay. He wasn't alright. He needed help.

He went after Percy out of curiosity and similarity.

He went after Percy because he didn't want to believe that someone as broken as him could be corrupt.

So, bidding Neville goodbye outside his parents room, Harry took off down the hallway.

⋙⋘

Elms Street.

That's what the street sign said. At least that's what Percy thought it said. With his dyslexia, he could never be too sure.

Reaching into his pocket, he found the piece of parchment, a poor substitute for paper, where he'd scribbled the address in Ancient Greek.

Celeste's Homemade Garments, 934 Elms Street.

Dusting himself off and standing up from the curb, he pretended that he couldn't see the sympathetic looks from passers by. He wiped his eyes to hide the obvious tear tracks but it did little to ease the redness.

"Excuse me," he called, approaching a middle aged man dressed in a shabby business suit, trying to comb his greasy hair into place. "Do you know how I can get to Celeste's Homemade Garments from here?"

The man lowered his comb and snorted, eyeing Percy up and down. "American," Greasy Hair muttered with a heavy strung accent he couldn't place. "Typical."

Percy clenched his fists and tried for a forced smile as the man continued on oblivious. "Just down the street, on the corner. It's on your left. Don't know that they'll let someone like you in though." Greasy Hair grinned, displaying a horrendous set of teeth. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Percy muttered, though Greasy Hair had already turned his back. Sighing, he walked slowly down the street, sniffling as he tried his hardest to push away the memory of Annabeth lying motionless in St Mungos. Paul's words came back to him. She's lucky to have you. He wished that were true.

His hand quickly reached up to wipe away a tear and he lowered his head, letting a few more slip to the ground.

When Percy reached the corner, he lifted his gaze and stopped in his tracks. On his left was a massive structure with designs that even he could appreciate. But there was one problem. The building before him was beautiful, luxurious and it was the definition of a place no mortal would ever allow him to step foot in. It had an aura that screamed 'I'm rich and this is where I come to hang out with other rich people and brag about myself.'

Red bricks and white mortar made up the three story building. Pristine rectangular-shaped windows so clean they were almost invisible were fitted neatly into the design, rimmed with thin white framework around the edge of the glass. If not for the elegant beige drapes visible from the other side of the window, Percy wouldn't have known there was any glass there at all.

Marking the entrance to the building were two large chocolate coloured doors with a set of wide semi-circle shaped stairs leading up to them. The steps were laid with an expanse of obsidian tiles and the doors were surrounded by an elegantly painted white arch which acted as a frame. Flanking the opening were two flourishing lilac plants in stone vases. A few other potted plants were perched delicately on the window ledges, perhaps the most welcoming thing about the building. Somewhere, classical music was playing loudly.

All that was missing were a few security guards by the entrance to make Percy feel even more out of place.

He couldn't help but to think how things would have been better if Annabeth were with him. She would have made a comment on the way the window frames complimented the colour of the bricks or how the archway should have been a little bigger so it wasn't lost in everything else or how maybe they shouldn't have used that texture over there or how they should have used a more simple over there. The thought tugged at his heart and he was almost tempted to turn back but he remembered his promise. No giving up this time.

Seeing no other choice, he climbed the stairs until he reached the brown doors. The archway above him was even more intimidating now that he was up close. He could see the intricate designs carved into the surface. Heroes crossing swords, cyclopes, giants, centaurs...the list went on and on. In the centre of it all, a message was engraved; Safe Haven for the Greek and Roman alike.

It was written twice. Once in Latin. Once in Ancient Greek.

Things were starting to make sense.

Percy's senses tingled with apprehension as he lifted the door knocker and hit it against the surface. Sparks flew after the third hit so he let his hands fall to his side and waited. Minutes passed and then the door opened an inch. A pretty woman poked her head out through the crack. "Name?" she questioned through a mouth coated heavily in red lipstick.

"Uh, Percy Jackson."

Her eyes darted around behind him. Seemingly satisfied, she nodded and opened the door wider, pushing him through. "Quickly!"

He caught a glimpse of a dark entryway with elegant architraves and enormous paintings before the woman was ushering him along.

Perhaps woman wasn't the best way to describe her. From the waist down she had the body of a sleek chestnut horse. Her hair had been pulled up into elaborate braids, encrusted with small gemstones. The only clothing she wore was a plain white t-shirt.

"You're a centaur," he stated, trailing along behind her. The clip clop of her hooves against the floorboards didn't cease their rhythm as they neared a spiral staircase.

"Kentauride," she corrected patiently. "I'm female." She placed a hoof on the first step and Percy was about to ask how someone with the lower body of a horse could climb stairs when his question was answered for him as the steps flipped over to become neatly fitted panels reminding him of an escalator.

"How– never mind." As the panels began to ascend, Percy quickly climbed aboard.

"Where are we going? And who are you?"

"I'm Celeste," the kentauride answered, "and we're going to the bar."

"The bar?"

She didn't answer as the magical stairway to wherever came to a stop. The panels returned to normal when they stepped off.

"Not everyone here can climb stairs," she offered as way of explanation. "Of course, the demigods and the satyrs can but it's a much more difficult task for us centaurs and kentaurides. My ancestors weren't very clever when they designed this place."

"Your ancestors?"

"Deucalion the first? Marjorie the Great?" She sighed as Percy shook his head. "It isn't of importance."

They stopped walking in front of a second set of chocolate doors. The classical music was louder here. Two centaurs stood guard by each side with tight grips on their spears. So there is security, Percy thought.

The centaurs nodded, "Lady Celeste," they chorused, pushing the doors aside and allowing them to pass.

The scene on the other side of the doors wasn't anything that Percy was expecting.

The room was as big and dark as the rest of the building, dimly lit by crystal chandeliers. Dark stained floorboards decorated the floor and the red brick from the exterior was present in the walls. A bar was located to the left where kentaurides and centaurs alike were serving drinks to other of their kin as well as other magical beings. On the opposite side of the room, a band of satyrs (or maybe they were fauns?) were performing Mozart's Symphony No. 40, according to Celeste, (Percy wouldn't know) all the while downing glass after glass of red wine.

One thing he was certain of; this was definitely not a dress store like he'd expected.

"What is this place?" Percy asked as a drunk dryad stumbled past, giggling.

"This is a safe haven administered by the Party Ponies, London Chapter," Celeste stated proudly. "We opened this last century. We only operate in this building so you can imagine why we have a large number of guests. Romans, Greeks, you name it and I can assure you they'll be here."

"Party Ponies," he murmured. Suddenly the alcohol and lack of soberness made sense. "You guys are Party Ponies?" The Party Ponies back in America were nothing like these guys. He faintly recalled those guys charging to battle with NERF guns and darts.

Celeste seemed to read his thoughts. "Oh please, those uncultured swines in the States are complete goofs. Don't even get me started on their brotherhood policy. It was strictly 'males only.' Over here, we're classier than that and additionally, we're free for all." She spread her hands wide. "We cater for kentaurides, dryads, naiads, demigods as well as centaurs and we have good drinks. All they do is drink tasteless beer. Personally, I am disgusted that they are incapable of getting their hands on at least some decent wine. Fortunately for us, we have a collection of riveting beverages.  And with our location being so close to the wizarding world, we have access to Butterbeer, a delightful drink, mind you."

"But doesn't having so many magical beings in one place attract monsters?" he asked, frankly not caring about wizardly beverages.

"My dear, you fret too much. If you must know, we have boundaries that encompass a large part of this street. Much like your camp, monsters cannot pass through our boundaries."

That explained him not being attacked yet. He wondered if the boundaries reached the wizard hospital. Probably not. His best guess was that the wizard auras masked his own in that area.

Percy rubbed his eyes. All that thinking was making his head spin.

A centaur with a long beard trotted past, easily balancing several trays of drinks. "Care for a drink, m'lady? Sir?"

"No thanks," Percy responded but Celeste greedily snatched up two full glasses of the red wine and gulped them down in seconds. 

"Classier than that," Percy echoed as the kentauride wiped her mouth, the red substance dripping from her chin.

"I thought–" he started but was cut off by a loud burp. He waited for Celeste to finish. "I thought," he began again, "that Party Ponies were only in America?"

"That's what those idiots would like you to think. We've got bases all over the world. Africa, Europe, wherever there's promise for a good time!" She let out some bubbly laughter, swaying on her hooves. He hadn't noticed the slight slur in her words up until then, but now it was clear as day she'd had more than a few drinks.

"Do it for Dionysus, son!" a dryad chanted as one of the satyrs on the stage face-planted into the crowd. Cheers and hollers sounded from the guests.

"Your companion is waiting by the bar!" Celeste shouted in his ear over the noise. She pointed in that direction and shoved him forward. "And please, do treat yourself to some Butterbeer, Mr Jackson."

"Right," Percy mumbled, pushing through the horde of drunk beings. He managed to find a spare bar stool and sat down, wearily. He almost did a double take when he realised who he was sitting next to.

"Frank?" he gasped.

The guy next to him choked on his drink. Percy clapped him on the back as he reached for a glass of water. "I'm fine," he coughed out. He grinned as he looked up to face Percy. "I was wondering if you were going to show."

Percy mirrored his grin and squashed him in a hug. "Ow," Frank muttered. "Who do you take hugging lessons from? That hurt." He rubbed his shoulder as Percy let go.

"Tyson."

"Of course."

"But seriously, what are you doing here, Zhang?" Percy's smile was wide.

"I'm supposed to bring the bad news." Frank's own smile was pained as he took a sip of his drink.

"It can wait. I've had enough bad news for a lifetime. What I really want to know is how did you get here? Camp Jupiter is like ten thousand miles away."

"It's only five thousand, I think."

Percy shrugged. "I only got a D in Geography, sue me."

Frank snorted and it was a perfect impression of a pig's. Percy supposed that was what happened when you turned into one too many times.

"It was some weird thing called a Portkey. I'm just happy that Leo never got his hands on one of those while we were on the Argo II. I'd probably have spent every morning waking up in the middle of a desert."

"Yeah but if we had a Portkey we could have just teleported to Greece. Do you know how much trouble that would have saved us?"

And maybe Leo would still be here.

Frank cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, the wizards aren't that bad. We got a few things from this Shacklebolt guy, works for some wizard ministry. Reyna knows him somehow. We've been using his stuff to travel between camps since your lover– err I mean Nico shouldn't really be shadow travelling anymore."

Percy went pink. He was pretty sure everyone, and he meant EVERYONE, knew about Nico's old crush on him. He was just happy that Nico had found someone else who could actually reciprocate those feelings. Percy had Annabeth and Nico needed to get a move on with Will because it was so obvious they liked each other.

Frank laughed quietly. "It's funny because last year I didn't even know about the Roman gods...or the Greek ones," he added, "and now apparently wizards are a thing. I'm not going to be a happy Frank if we discover the long lost race of Narnians living in a wardrobe or something next year."

"Nah it won't be those guys from Narnia. Too predictable. I'm betting dinosaurs."

"I wonder if Octavian's got any prophecies written down about that." Frank sounded genuinely curious. This is what happens when you live in a world this messed up, Percy thought.

He briefly wondered what else there was out there that he didn't know about. He didn't think he wanted to know. He just hoped it wasn't dinosaurs. He'd seen enough of Jurassic Park to know that wouldn't end well.

"How are things going at Camp Jupiter, Mr Praetor?" he asked, changing the topic and giving Frank a light shove.

Frank looked embarrassed by the mention of his title but that was soon replaced by unease. He swallowed. "Not good. Three members of the third cohort went missing yesterday. But things are worse down your end. At least a quarter of the demigods from Camp Half Blood are gone."

He winced. In his absence, things had gone from bad to worse. The two camps couldn't cope with something like this so soon after the war. "Is there a pattern?" he asked.

"It's always the most important people, the ones who have the most influence and the ones with the most power." He observed Frank was particularly perturbed about that. "It could be me next. Or Hazel. Even you," he said.

The mood was grim and Percy knew they'd reached the bad news part.

"Someone's taking them," he said. "Did Clarisse tell anyone about the Leo thing?"

Frank and Leo had their differences but Percy knew Frank wasn't as cruel as to not care about what happened to him. He nodded. "I know he's not dead but he's in danger. Do you think he's been...you know," he looked uncomfortable – "taken yet?"

"I hope not." A thought struck Percy. "Is it only demigods?"

"There was that witch, Rita Skeeter that no one really liked, I think. Some mortals. You know about your camp's oracle, and your mom–"

"Wait, what?"

Frank froze, realising what he'd just let slip. "Uh, well H-Hazel said hello," he stuttered and in a panic turned himself into an iguana.

"Frank!" Percy exclaimed. "What did you just say?"

It took a few seconds before Human Frank took Iguana Frank's place looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

"Frank–"

"Can I get you anything, sir?" A kentauride serving drinks at the bar had stopped in front of the pair, and was looking at Percy expectantly.

"I'll take another Butterbeer," Frank chimed, pushing forward his half filled mug. Percy put a hand on his shoulder. "We're fine," he told the kentauride who shrugged and muttered a 'suit yourself' before proceeding to open a bottle of vodka and drink it all in one hit.  

They watched the centaur in disgust for a moment before Percy turned to Frank with a raised eyebrow. He was looking anywhere but at Percy. "Forget I said anything."

"Frank–"

Frank sighed and put his head in his hands. "I had one job," he muttered. Draining the last of his Butterbeer, he hesitated, not knowing what to say. "Last month, your mom went missing." Percy sucked in a breath. "Chiron sent Nico to tell you but he didn't get a chance."

"That's what Nico wanted to tell me that night," Percy guessed. "But we were being watched."

Frank nodded. "When Reyna and I talked to Chiron, he said he convinced the headmistress to move the date of the Hogsmeade weekend to closer up. I don't know what that means but that's what he said. Anyway, he was going to get Thalia or one of the hunters to tell you at Hogsmeade since they'd set up a small camp there to keep an eye on things but..."

"–Annabeth happened," he finished.

"No one wanted to tell you. It would break you to find out. I wasn't supposed to say anything. I'm sorry you had to find out like this." Frank looked miserable. Percy could only imagine all the stress he'd had with the whole ordeal not to mention his praetor duties on top of that.

"It's okay," he said. He wasn't going to cry again. That wasn't going to help anyone.

"I'm sorry," he moaned. "I messed up."

"No you didn't," Percy assured him, "I was going to eventually find out anyway. You've got a lot on your plate. It's not easy being a Praetor."

Frank relaxed a little bit. "There's something else," he said, pulling something out of his pocket. It was an envelope. "Reyna and I have been in contact with Chiron a lot lately. We agreed that no one should leave either of the camps but this was important."

"What is it?" Percy asked, taking the envelope from him. He was trying to keep his mind occupied, not drifting to Annabeth and his now missing mother. It wasn't working. He blinked back tears.

"Clarisse and Annabeth missed it when they were checking your oracle– Rachel's cave. I don't think Rachel ended up sending it off."

He ripped open the seal and pulled out a sheet of paper. He was greeted with Rachel's messy handwriting.

Percy,
Something much worse is coming. Something you can't even begin to wrap your head around. Something that will change your view on everything. You have to come back to camp. I've seen what's going to happen. If you stay at Hogwarts, like I know you will, the inevitable will occur. Your life is in danger.

I know you probably won't listen but what's happened so far is only the beginning. On Halloween things are only going to get worse and that's not even the half of it. Be careful.

Rachel

"No." Percy shook his head. "I can't leave, Frank."

"I know," Frank said. "You've got a job here." He paused. "Look, I should probably go now. The portkey leaves in ten minutes." Percy had seen from Paul first hand that portkey's were not the best method of transportation. He silently wished Frank the best of luck as he stood up.

"Does Harry know yet?" he asked.

"No."

"He'll find out. You should be careful." Percy's laughter was bitter. That's what Rachel had said too.

"Look where being careful got me."

"Yeah, well, good luck with him. I know you've got it in you."

Frank made to leave and that was when the bar exploded.

⋙⋘

It was a stroke of luck that Harry found Percy. With the amount of times he'd gotten lost it could also have been considered a pure miracle. Harry hoped Percy wouldn't mind being followed, after all, he was only going to check if he was okay.

However when he did find Percy, what he found most unsettling was where he found him.

It was on the corner of a random street outside a fancy-looking building. Percy was standing at the top of the stairs, shuffling on the balls of his feet as he waited for the doors in front of him to open.

Harry should have turned back then and there. Percy was doing something private but there was that nagging question in the back of his mind asking him if he found any part of the situation before him the slight bit suspicious. A classmate, entering an unknown premise, when they should have been at school. Did Percy even have permission to be there? If he had any permission at all it would have only been to visit his girlfriend, so why was he here? Harry would admit, he was curious.

He ducked his head, as Percy glanced in his direction. When he looked up again, the door had opened a crack. A dolled up lady poked her head out of the doorway and said something to Percy. Then she was opening the door and ushering him inside. The door began to close as they both disappeared from view.

Harry wasn't sure what made him do it but next thing he knew he was running up the steps, his foot sliding through the narrow gap in the doorway. The door made a small thump as it hit his shoe. Harry held a breath as he waited for Percy and the strange woman to come back and call him out for snooping but they didn't. Their footsteps were growing quieter as they got further away from him. They did not cease.

He let out a sigh of relief and waited till the footfalls had gone completely quiet. When he couldn't hear anything else, he quietly slipped into the building. Behind him, the door closed louder than he would have liked but no one came after him.

Harry didn't bother examining his surroundings. The room had poor lighting so there was not much he could make out before his eyes had a chance to adjust so he moved along in the direction he hoped Percy had gone in.

On the bright side, the darkness made it that it was easy to remain unseen. Once he'd caught up to Percy, he followed at a few metres behind, ducking behind paintings and sculptures when necessary. Then he saw the woman from the doorway. She had the lower body of a horse. A centaur.

That puzzled him. What was a centaur doing in the middle of London? And what was Percy doing talking to one?

Oh Harry, what have you gotten yourself into?

Percy and the centaur reached a staircase. Harry hid behind a large vase as they ascended. He waited for them to reach the top and turn the corner before tiptoeing out of his hiding place just in time to see a set of panels become well...stairs. Harry blinked. "That's not weird at all," he murmured but nonetheless climbed to the top. On the second floor landing, he came face to face with two more centaurs, each brandishing spears.

"And who might you be?" the first demanded, jabbing his spear in Harry's direction.

He gulped. "I'm Larry. Larry....Trotter?"

The centaurs held his gaze, expressions hardened. Harry waited for a spear to strike him in the gut but it didn't happen. Instead, both centaurs broke out into two identical grins. "I do not believe my eyes," the first murmured.

"It is Harry Potter!" The second exclaimed.

"No, I'm Larry–" he protested but the centaurs were having none of it.

"Look Barry! The boy has even got the scar! Can you believe this?"

"Could we trouble you for an autograph, sir?"

"Uh...sure?" He figured the centaurs would let him pass if he gave them a moment of his time.

He hated being famous.

"Spectacular! I've got a quill on me somewhere. Here!" Harry gingerly took the quill and the first centaur, Jeff, pointed to his armpit. "Right here, I would like to have your name as a keepsake where others cannot see." He swallowed the oncoming bile and scribbled his name quickly, the ink bleeding on the sweating skin. Harry was glad Barry wasn't hairy.

"Please, do it on my face! I would like to show off the fact that I've met with great Harry Potter!" the other centaur shouted, leaning closer. "Maybe I can get it turned into a permanent tattoo."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jeff, you know Celeste does not tolerate that type of nonsense."

Harry wrote his name in small writing on Jeff's forehead above his eyebrow.

He really hated being famous.

The centaurs looked thrilled. "Thank you, Mr Potter! It has always been a dream of mine to meet you! You are my idol!" Barry exclaimed.

"Don't let this encounter trouble your beauty sleep, sir," Jeff assured him, "we will not reveal your secret identity to anyone....Larry Trotter." He winked.

"Here," Barry interrupted, pulling off his bandana. He leaned down. "Take this! As a token of my thanks," he insisted, handing Harry the rectangular piece of red fabric. "When you are lonely, hold this close to you, and remember that I, your greatest friend, will always be thinking about you." 

Harry had no time to express his being mortified as Barry was quick to open the doors for him.

"Take care, Larry!" Jeff called after him.

As the doors shut behind him the last thing Harry heard was Barry's voice. "Just wait till I tell Laqueisha! She is going to be soooo envious!" Harry shook his head. He'd never met centaurs like that before.

Come to think of it, he'd never met any other centaurs aside from the ones in the forest. Why were centaurs hanging out in the middle of London?

Let him rephrase that, why were centaurs, as well as the rest of these creatures hanging out in the middle of London? His mouth was agape as he surveyed his surroundings. Along with the centaurs, tree people stumbled about, women with skin made of water lounged by the bar and humans with goat legs.... satyrs– what were they doing here? Hermione had once mentioned after a History of Magic lesson that they were extinct.

As if to answer his question, a green lady giggled in his ear; "We're having a party!"

Harry watched with confusion as one of the satyrs smashed a violin over his head. The rest of the band on stage with him continued to play their classical music like nothing had happened.

He would have to ask Hermione about this place after. She would have answers.

For the meantime, he focused on finding Percy.

The person in question was sitting at the bar, speaking to a human looking creature– wait that was a human. Harry took another look at his surroundings. On second thought, in a place like this, it was probably a wizard.

Thinking fast, Harry tied the bandana from Barry the centaur around his head, making sure to keep his scar hidden. He made himself comfortable at an empty table nearby, back facing Percy.

It was probably the world's worst disguise, but it would have to do.

Across the room, he made eye contact with a young man sitting at a table alone, sipping his drink. Harry could have sworn his eyes were a piercing shade of gold. He blinked. The boy looked away and Harry shook his head. He must have just imagined it.

He turned his attention back to Percy and strained his ears. He tried to catch even a snippet of the conversation that might help him figure out what the hell was going on but he wasn't close enough to catch anything more than whispers. Cautiously, he peered over his shoulder, wondering if he could read lips.

The Asian boy who Percy had been sitting with was gone and in his place was an iguana. Harry's eyes became the size of plates. Percy was friends with an animagus?

The boy slowly morphed back into a human and Harry quickly averted his eyes, realising that maybe sneaking into this place wasn't the best idea.

A drunk centaur walked in a daze towards him, smacking straight into the chair. "Oops, my bad." Since when did centaurs drink alcohol?

"Could I offer you a driiiiink?" he slurred, offering him a tray of butterbeers. He didn't wait for a reply and plonked a mug down in front of Harry. Butterbeer was a wizard's drink. How had this lot got a hold of it?

"Thanks," Harry mumbled.

"Say, have I seen you before?" the centaur asked, coming closer.

"Nope."

"You look awfully familiar. A lot like the boy from the newspapers." His eyes widened. "Hey! Aren't you–" The centaur didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. He face planted on the table, passed out.

Harry edged away and spared another glance behind him. Percy was reading a letter with a frown on his face.

He had an idea.

Harry pulled out his wand and quietly muttered a spell. Suddenly he could hear their conversation much more clearly.

"–I can't leave, Frank," Percy said. Harry could barely distinguish the sound but it was enough.

"I know," the other boy, who must've been Frank responded. "You've got a job here." There was a pause. "Look, I should go now. The portkey leaves in ten minutes." Harry heard the sound of a chair moving back against the floorboards as the boy stood up. The words he heard next made his heart stop. "Does Harry know yet?"

He felt himself go rigid.

There was silence in which he assumed Percy was shaking his head. "No."

Does Harry know what? he thought, gripping the edge of the table tightly as he tried to compose himself.

"He'll find out. You should be careful."

Percy laughed bitterly. "Look where being careful got me."

There was another pause and then finally; "yeah well, good luck with him. I know–"

The sound of something skidding across the floorboards made him look down and miss the rest of Frank's sentence. A glass jar rolled to a stop at his feet. There was something contained within; a deep red glowing substance. His thoughts halted in his tracks. He recognised that colour. It was the colour of Fiendfyre...

A sharp crack tore him out if his stupor.

Down the side of the glass, a hairline fracture was running its path, growing larger by the second.

Harry was on his feet in seconds but he didn't get a chance to shout a warning.

The glass exploded.

In a brilliant display of light, Harry was thrown back against a wall.

The world was tilting on an axis, sending his perspective tumbling into disarray. His ears were pounding, masking the sound of the desperate screams, clawing for an escape. His vision was crumbling like a forgotten empire, threatening to give in. His lips were thick with the taste of blood, an unsavoury reminder of all that had been spilled on his account.

He wouldn't let that number rise.

No more would die when he had the power to stop them.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The consistent pounding of his ears was all he could hear. It was picking up speed, going in time with the beat of his heart. It was the drums the satyrs had been playing moments before. It was the hundred sets of feet hitting the ground as they veered away from disaster. It was the persistent beats of every heart in the room.

It was the pounding of his ears.

And it would not stop.

So neither would he.

He lay against the wall slumped for a moment more, as the pounding eased until it was only a rhythmic thump lurking in the furthest corner of his mind. He found himself regaining some sense of order as he fought back the drowsiness and slowly opened his eyes.

It was like looking at the world through a windshield on a rainy day. It was all just one massive blur, with only the faintest outlines of silhouettes being able to be seen. They were all running in the same direction. Out.

The smell of smoke prickled his nose and he snapped out of his dazed state.

His glasses!

Where were they?

The force of the explosion must have sent them flying. He blocked out the screams and groped around on the floor. He found them in poor condition only a few feet away and plonked them on his face.

Harry decided he preferred not being able to see anything at all. Even with only one lens (the other had been smashed to bits), he had a pretty good view of things.

It was chaos. Complete and utter chaos.

The majority of the party-goers had scattered. Few lay stunned on the floor, picking themselves up as they realised what was happening. Their being drunk made it only so much harder for them to get out and most stumbled about blindly in their drunken stupors.

They were lucky the Fiendfyre was working slowly, almost as if being kept in captivity had numbed its senses. If anything, it was only just waking up.

Harry brought himself to his knees, watching with stunned surprise at where a small red flame was growing, the faces of monstrous beasts reflected in the fire.

"Everyone get out!" Percy shouted from across the room, helping a green woman to her feet.

There was the sound of timber snapping. The whole area around where the explosion had occurred caved, leaving a gaping hole in the floor.

Harry stood up, swaying.

The temperature had already begun to rise and the fire roared with fury. The head of a lion sprouted from the scorching inferno, preparing to unleash its rage.

The room was burning. Everything was quickly catching alight and the worst part was, Harry didn't think he could fight the dark magic on his own.

Beside him, a satyr lay sprawled unconscious. Percy and his friend Frank couldn't possibly have time to get everyone out. It didn't appear they had noticed the satyr yet.

Harry staggered over and pulled the man/goat up so he was standing limply. He put his arm around the satyr who unconsciously leaned into his side. With the added weight, it was almost impossible to walk but Harry managed. He was glad the fire wasn't as moving as quickly as it had in the Room of Requirement. It gave him time to exit the place unscathed, behind the last of the stragglers, just as the ceiling gave way behind them, the hungry fire already feasting on the plaster and wooden beams.

There was another tremendous howl as the blaze erupted into something larger, the raging beasts arising from the inferno, consuming everything in their path. He didn't look back until he heard the centaur scream. The half-horse had slipped on a puddle of alcohol and the fire was already advancing, firey tendrils reaching out.

"No!" Harry screamed, reaching out. Tears brimmed his eyes. He couldn't do this again.

The fire pounced. Just at the last moment, the centaur came skidding towards him, far enough away from the fire that he was out of reach.

Harry was flabbergasted. "Come on!" the centaur shouted, pushing him forwards.

He tripped and slid down the panelled stairs, satyr in tow with the centaur right behind. Above them, the monstrous conflagration devoured the balustrade. Harry could be next.

He felt dizzy as he picked himself up, dragging the satyr to the exit. The centaur had overtaken them.

Compared to the last time, the Fiendfyre was slow. It was the only reason he was still alive.

When they finally made it outside, he was wheezing and his lungs were threatening to give in. "You can stop this Harry," he told himself, "you're the only one who can stop this."

A blazing serpent exploded from a window, disintegrating the glass. Sparks flew from its mouth as it spat hazardous firey poison.

If Harry didn't do something, the Fiendfyre would unleash havoc on the streets too.

He caught sight of Percy who must've made it outside, standing in the street, controlling water so it was dousing the flames. It wasn't working. "Percy!" he shouted. The boy stopped and turned to look at him.

"It's dark magic! Water won't do anything." If Harry wasn't so desperate to stop the Fiendfyre, he might have noticed Percy didn't have a wand on him.

The water died down and Percy lowered his arms. "What are you doing here– you know what, nevermind. What do we do?" 

"There's a counter spell," Harry said. "But I don't know what it is."

"Well you better think of one fast." An inky cloud of smoke had begun rising from the wreckage. Percy reached for his pocket at first but changed his mind and reluctantly grabbed his wand. "I'll try hold it off." Without waiting for a reply, he dashed off back into the burning building.

"Percy, wait–" Harry begun but he was already gone.

He looked at the situation before him helplessly. What would Hermione do?

Faintly, he remembered being in the library with her and Ron a few months ago during cleanup. After the incident in the Room of Requirement they'd all read up on Fiendfyre, not wanting to relive that situation.

It was a great idea at the time, if only he could remember anything he'd learned. 

"Sometimes, saying the spell in reverse acts as a counter curse. It depends on the spell though." He could hear Hermione's voice clearly.

"It says the incantation used is Latin for 'cursed flame.' How original," Ron had commented.

"That's it," he murmured. Latin for cursed flame, backwards. "What's Latin for cursed flame?"

The satyr he'd rescued before sat up and retched on to the side of the road. "Maledecti flamma," he murmured, eyes lolling back. "Latin for cursed flame."

Harry was stunned and not for the first time that day. "Maledecti flamma," he repeated, trying to figure out how to say it backwards. "Backwards...amma...ammalf"

"Backwards it is Ammalf Itcedelam," the satyr told him, propping himself up on his elbows, eyes fluttering.

"Ammalf Itcedelam." It was worth a try. Pointing his wand at the flaming wreckage, he closed his eyes and repeated the spell. Nothing happened. He felt panic surfacing as he tried again. There was a loud howl and a large burning wolf launched itself from the raging fire and towards Harry. "AMMALF ITCEDELAM!" He bellowed.

It felt like the world had frozen in suspended animation.

Harry's breathing stilled. He saw his tattered image through the wolf's raging eyes, like a mirror reflection.

The moment was over as soon as it begun. It was almost like someone had hit play on a remote and suddenly everything was rushing back to him at the speed of light.

The burning chimera was sucked through the tip of his wand like a vacuum. Slowly, the rest of the fire followed suit until he was left standing in the middle of a smoking graveyard.

Among him, the party-goers as well as muggle citizens lay sprawled out on the floor, coughing.

Harry slipped his wand back into his pocket and turned to the satyr.

"How- how did you know that?"

"I am a Roman," was the only response he got.

"Thank you," he managed.

"I would not have saved you if you had not saved me first."

Harry looked up. Somewhere Percy was screaming. He could hear his voice over the other loud sounds. "Frank! Frank!" He shouted as he ran out of the ruin, clutching only a ballpoint pen.

"Percy!" he choked. "Are you okay?"

"I can't find him," he mumbled.

"The boy you were with?"

Percy gave him a sceptical look.

"I saw him with you before," Harry improvised quickly.

"Were you in there?" Percy asked.

"No," he lied, not wanting him to know he followed him. Percy let out a sigh of relief. Harry wasn't sure if it was because he was glad Harry wasn't in the building when the explosion happened or because he was glad he hadn't seen or heard anything. "Were you?"

"No," Percy said.

Harry narrowed his eyes but Percy had averted his gaze to the sky. From the ruins of the smoking building, a bald eagle emerged and took off in the air. Percy smiled. "There he is," he said quietly.

"Someone did this on purpose," Harry thought. He hadn't mean to say it out loud.

Percy grimaced, his words snapping him back to reality. His eyes were cold and distant but he offered him a smile. "You saved everyone with that spell."

He didn't answer. He almost hadn't saved everyone. That centaur would have died if he hadn't done what he did. Except, to save the centaur, he didn't use a wand. It happened on its own. It scared him.

"The ministry is going to have a hard time cleaning this up," he muttered to himself, watching as a bystander started to help the satyr he'd rescued to his feet. There was another loud scream as the bystander spotted the hooves.

Percy looked deeply disturbed though Harry doubted it had to do with the Ministry. "We should go," he muttered.

Harry took ahold of him and they apparated back to St Mungos.

As he waited outside for Neville, a million and one thoughts plagued his mind. A seed of doubt had been planted. Why was Percy in that building? Who had caused that explosion? And more so than ever; What exactly was Percy Jackson hiding? He was no closer to figuring out the truth.

And then there was that final question, the worst of them all; how had he saved the centaur? 

Harry didn't know what to think.

⋙⋘

First update of the year! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Leave your thoughts in the comment section.

And I made this one extra long since we reached 20k reads a few days ago.  7500 words for this chapter (give or take a few.)

What did you guys think?

Steph :)