Anchises

Chapter Three: Thalia Grace

Song: To Feel Alive, IAMEVE

After spending all her time with the hunters, demigods, and gods, Thalia had forgotten how easily scared mortals were. And how fun it was to scare them. Though some of them were a lot more cautious, she respected that wariness. Others were too awed by her very presence to keep their guard up. That was a mistake.

“You can start the meeting now,” she flipped a knife, inspecting it. Silver. Good. She settled down on a chair, putting her feet up on the table. She left her bow hanging on the chair, and sharpened the knife where everyone could see it. “Go on—” she gestured to the table—“sit.”

The mortals moved slowly, but began to settle down. Subtly, Thalia kept an eye on the fake-wolf, who had his eyes fixated on her knife while the man next to him glared openly at it. From what she remembered of Draco’s description, the man was Sirius Black, a wrongfully accused fugitive, and the fake-wolf had to be Remus Lupin, former professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts and the only competent professor Hogwarts had had for that class. Black, who was one of the few mortals who actually knew something about demigods and the gods, and was also Draco’s cousin, never once flinched or averted his eyes when hers met them.

Unlike the others.

Either he’s the only one with a backbone, or the only one who knows enough to know it’s not smart to show fear. Thalia grinned to herself. She respected that. If anything, it made him more likeable than the others.

“Kids,” a woman with bushy red hair that reminded Thalia of Rachel began to usher a group out. “Go upstairs, this is no conversation for children.”

“Mum—”

“—we’re of age.”

The twins, Fred and George Weasley. Thalia remembered Draco describing them as Hogwarts’ version of the Stoll brothers. But their mom—Molly Weasley, according to Draco—seemed to be having none of it, because her pushing became more and more insistent.

Thalia had had enough. She waved her hand, concentrating just like Jason taught her. Just like she’d intended, the door that separated the meeting room from the rest of the house—a kitchen and a dining room, the ping-pong table back at Camp Half-Blood was miles better—slammed closed.

“I said to start the meeting now,” she glared, pushing a chair for someone to sit. “That means everyone needs to be here. So. Sit. Down.”

A girl with identical hair to the mom-Weasley—probably Ginny Weasley—was the first one to break the silence. She took the chair beside Thalia and met her eyes head on. Thalia raised an eyebrow, taking interest in her, before looking away and waited for everyone to sit down.

“Miss…” Mrs. Weasley started.

“Thalia,” she supplied. “We’re not friends. I just couldn’t give two fucks about my last name.”

Mrs. Weasley frowned, clearly mentally debating whether or not to correct Thalia on her language, or maybe her feet on the table. Whatever it was, she quickly came to a decision. “A lady such as yourself should not have such foul language, and put your feet down too. It is impolite and disrespectful.” Both, apparently.

“I’m not your kid. I’ll speak however the fuck I want.” Thalia snorted and made a show of adjusting her shoes, enjoying the clear discomfort Mrs. Weasley showed. “As for respect? I don’t know about you, but in my culture respect is earned, and you have done nothing to earn it. My suggestion? Focus on something that’s actually important. You—” she sneered and pointed her sharpened knife at Potter, ignoring how Black and the fake-wolf tensed. “This—” she gestured to the entire table, “and you—” she glared up at Dumbledore, and electricity sparked threatenly in her eyes as her smile bared more teeth than expected in ‘polite’ company.

Dumbledore frowned and met her eyes straight on. And there it was. The twinkle in his eyes. Nico, Draco, some of her hunters and the Hecate Cabin had all warned her about mortals who could enter other minds with eye contact alone, and how they normally did something to attract attention to their eyes. It was clear what this old man’s something was. That twinkle. But Thalia wasn’t scared. She was amused. Demigods were made of stronger stuff than mortals.

Their minds were born with the mental barriers that protected them from the mental struggle of a god going through their memories or emotions, or even a god speaking to them through their mind. Which wasn’t to say that gods couldn’t still mentally talk to mortals, but they had to be far more careful to stop them from going insane. With their children, there was no need for that. Demigods were born to be part of the world of the pantheon just as much, or maybe even more, than they were meant to be part of the mortal world.

Dumbledore would never be able to go through her mind. That she knew. He was no god. Her grin grew the second she saw his forehead crease in confusion. Or maybe frustration, she didn’t care. Oh how she missed messing with mortals, specially mortals who thought had power over her.

“Going through my mind won’t work,” she hummed absentmindedly as she twirled her knife between her fingers, enjoying the uncomfortable atmosphere she was creating. “So, Professor Snape, and Headmaster Dumbledore, if you are done playing your little peek-a-boo game…” she mocked before stabbing her knife into the wooden table, startling them all, “let’s talk.”

The silence was stifling while Thalia waited for someone to start. She plucked the knife from the table, inspecting the point to make sure it was not dull, not caring about the indent she left on the wood. It was still sharp and there was no visible damage, the wood must have been old and not taken care of for years. And the house itself was old. Annabeth had mentioned that Grimmauld Place was among the list of sacred places to Athena and her children. And it was sacred enough that Thalia could feel the oaths and deals etched into every crack of the house. Absetmindle, she wondered how Annabeth or any of her siblings would feel inside the house considering who their mother is.

“Why are you here?” Her eyes darted towards the man with the odd eyes. Mad-Eye Moody, she concluded, taking out her sharpener again before responding. Magical eye that can see through many things, Thalia mused, remembering Draco’s warning. It is unknown if it could see through the mist.

“Curiosity for one,” she laughed, thinking of everything Nico told her about Draco and his experience in England. Not all of it was good, but from the stories, Draco has good friends waiting for him. “But I doubt that is the answer you want, Mad-Eye Moody.”

Mad-Eye grunted, narrowing his one good eye while the magical stared right through her person. “No, curiosity does not explain all those weapons.”

Thalia grinned, something sharp and dangerous. Someone’s breath caught at the sight and she wondered if her smile reminded the person of Draco. It would not shock her if it did, they were not the same person, far from it, but all demigods and all beings close to the pantheons had that very distinct dangerous grin. Something wild, dangerous and oh so alluring. The hypnotising moment the prey would freeze before the predator attacked.

Between a monster and a demigod, it was hard to see which one was which until the last second.

But between a demigod and a mortal? It was as easy as the sky was blue.

“No, but my life is dangerous. I cannot just rely on my powers.” There was something akin to approval in the other’s eyes and Thalia resisted the urge to throw her knife at him. She wondered if he would dodge it, catch it or try to block it with one of his spells. There was a wildness in Mad-Eye that would make him fit right among the demigods. Not that he would ever feel comfortable in Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter, he was too mortal for that, but maybe if they met in other circumstances, his presence would not feel too intruding.

She wondered, should this not be his first, if in another life Mad-Eye had been a demigod himself.

Mrs. Weasley made noise of disagreement, a clear dislike to Thalia’s choices of life. She rolled her eyes, ignoring the woman and turned to face the rest of the Order of the Phoenix (she laughed when Nico told her the name of their organisation). “But yes, curiosity is not the only thing that brings me here.”

She rested the knife against the table, the pointed edge nudged towards Lupin more out of habit than any actual harmful intent. Thalia’s grin disappeared and let her face fall to something familiar. Memories of the Second Titan War and Second Giant War appeared briefly before she mentally forced them away.

“There is a war brewing in your world,” there was no place for argument in her tone. Not that anyone would. They all knew the truth of their situation. “And the gods are… curious.”

“Now they are curious? Not before?” Snape sneered and from Black’s grimace, he hated to agree with the Professor.

Thalia shrugged, looking up to stare at the ceiling. The pattern was an ugly green that reminded her too much of pine tree leaves, she looked away before it became too much. Her eyes landed on Snape who was sneering at her as if she was something particularly nasty under his shoe. Thalia raised an eyebrow, glancing at his hair before looking back at him.

“I know for a fact the wizarding world has many self-care products. Is it a fashion choice?”

The silence was long and loud before Black broke with barking laughter that caught Thalia’s attention instantly. The laughter was not human enough, underneath it was something dog-like and she wondered if Black was one of those wizards who could transform into an animal. A dog perhaps? She knew Draco had not told her everything, maybe this was one of those things he did not think would be important. Or maybe he did not know at all.

Or maybe he wanted to keep some things secret. Thalia had no issue with that, unless a secret could harm her or their world.

“Why you–”

“The gods have scouts all over the world,” Thalia continued on, finally responding to Snape's initial question. “We heard what happened in June and our parents got wind of it. So, we investigated and we found some very interesting information including, obviously, your little Order and secret but not so secret location.”

“Yes, how did you find us?” Dumbledore leaned forward, no longer trying to meet her eyes, but curious nonetheless. “We cannot afford for our enemies to use the same methods.”

Thalia crackled as if Voldemort and his Death Eaters could use their methods of finding information. Unless they got themselves their own version of Nico di Angelo, Thalia doubted their enemies would be able to get the dead to say anything remotely coherent, if they were able to speak at all. And even if that had not worked, Lady Wisdom would have been able to access the information anyway. There is no mortal magic that could hide a house from its patron goddess. And, for all her faults, Thalia doubted that Lady Athena would help out mortals who held no respect for the gods.

“Your enemies are mortal. Keep it that way and you will be fine,” she said instead. “Wizarding England and soon enough all of Wizarding Europe will be aware of our existence again. We know Voldemort and his followers already know. We have kept ourselves hidden for a reason after all. A decision had to be made.”

Nobody blamed Draco for what happened. It was not his fault that his sad excuse of a father thought power was more important than his son’s safety. And nobody blamed him when Draco explained what he did with his ring. It was a matter of time, because everyone doubted that Voldemort would keep that information to himself. The main secret of their existence was out, but they still had cards on their decks that only demigods knew.

Like the existence of other pantheons with their own demigods or magicians. Or the Legacies.

“If Voldemort is aware of your existence, he will come after you. Hogwarts has space to keep you safe and her doors are always open.”

Thalia laughed, and she knew it sounded like the boom of thunder and crackle of lightning. After all, she’d practised that trick for hours, while Percy and Nico could make it seem like the start of a storm and crashing waves or the cracking of earth and rattling of bones respectively. It was efficient for intimidation.

“Hogwarts? The place that kept a fake-Cerberus? The place that hid a powerful stone and almost lost it to some mortal who thinks he’s a god? The place that had students—children who knew absolutely nothing about war or fighting—paralyzed by a monster that lived in its basement? And instead of shutting down, like it should have, you remained open because a student killed the fake-basilisk? Even though another student was kidnapped under your watch by the same mortal who almost stole the stone just the yearprior? That Hogwarts?” Beside her, the Weasleys tensed, and Thalia took note of it, fleetingly remembering that the youngest was the victim from Draco’s stories about his second year at Hogwarts.

Some of the mortals remained quiet, others jumped in defence of their school, their arguments lost with each other as they tried to out-yell the others out in their outrage. Thalia watched, amused as the arguments fell on deaf ears, before she eventually got tired of it. Electricity leaped out of her hands, zapping widely and Thalia made sure they just brushed against each and every person yelling. The silence came quickly. She sneered, the electricity shimmering down, the smell of ozone that had become almost unbearable vanished completely alongside it, as if they had never been there in the first place.

“At least our homes don’t lie. They are safe havens. We train, we fight, and we learn. And we have been attacked before, but they have never pretended to be a place away from danger. They prepare us for it. But I’m not here to compare. Hogwarts would lose anyway.” Thalia rummaged through the pockets of her jacket, taking out an envelope. It was non-magical-mortal-made, and expensive looking. Pure white with gold borders and the Empire State Building stamped in the centre, glistering despite the lack of light in the room. “Traditionally, the God of Messengers would be in charge of messages like this. But I was already on my way to England, so I offered to pass the message over.”

“The gods?” Black narrowed his eyes at the envelope. “Why now? After so long?”

“You have to know why already, but fine. I’ll bite.” Thalia’s expression became more serious, and she delicately placed the envelope on the table. “Last summer, one of our homes gained a new member, and the pursuing monster was killed quickly. It’s not unusual that newcomers are chased by monsters. What was strange was that the injured mortal and demigod had absolutely no Keeper in sight.”

Her eyes caught Potter, Ron and Granger’s eyes in turn, and she knew they were figuring it out. Ron was clearly quicker than the other two, but then, they hadn’t been raised with the story of the gods as history, rather than myths. “We healed them anyways, of course, we would never leave a demigod to die. Or a mortal, if we could save them without revealing ourselves and endangering all demigods. Everyone thought it was one of the rare events where the god revealed themself to the mortal parent. But, even if that were the case, they would have a Keeper with them.” She shrugged, tapping the envelope and letting the silence stretch. Though, that seems to become more frequent. Percy had told her of how he had to take a mortal-turned Apollo and a demigod named Meg to camp. Thalia just hoped there were just isolated incidents. They had Keepers for a reason after all.

“What,” Professor Snape drawled, finally breaking the silence, “does this have to do with anything?”

Thalia ignored him, and continued. “Our parents don’t interact with magical mortals anymore—they have no demigod children with them. Or, well, Lady Magic does, but only with people in the magical US, and even those are only three demigod children of magical mortals. And Lady Magic has seven known demigod children. So you must understand our shock when Lou Ellen said she recognised the mortal.” She glanced at Black, who was sitting straighter, obviously having figured out where she was going with the story. “Draco is the first demigod child with a magical parent in centuries who is not a child of Lady Magic, and will most likely be the last in a long time.”

Everyone startled at the name, even the ones who obviously knew who the story was about. Every eye landed on the envelope that rested innocently on the table just shy from Thalia’s hand, which she’d shown could form lightning at will.

“The gods care for their children—for us. When Draco returned, his mom was frantic.” Her smile became sharp as she turned to Dumbledore, eyes glinting with that spark Thalia always got when she was about to do something particularly deadly or dangerous. “I heard that it took a lot of effort from Draco to convince his siblings and his moms not to curse the schools’ Heads for the underwater trial.”

Around her, everyone paled, even Dumbledore, whose usual mask of indifference cracked slightly, just enough for everyone to see the fear her words brought him. She laughed, letting her powers sink into every crevice of the house. Every wall and floor. The house crackled with her, lights flickered and thunder boomed outside to match her glee.

“Why are you laughing?!” Granger demanded, hands pressed against the table, and her chair toppled over from how hurriedly she stood up. “That’s… this is serious! Do you not care?!”

Thalia stopped, and the house stilled. She watched the girl in front of her, before carefully leaning forward, hands clasped together under her chin. Her boots hit the floor with a thud. “You have guts. I like it,” her grin was quick, disappearing before they could see it. “But no, I don’t care. Why should I? I wasn’t stupid enough to put dragons or students in harm’s way. I wasn’t stupid enough to put children in danger for amusement, especially an Olympian’s child. I wasn’t stupid enough to put a demigod in danger.” She sneered, the crackle of lighting growing around her demonstrating exactly what she was capable of doing if she was pushed enough.

Granger trembled, but she kept her ground. Her glare was becoming weaker with every second that passed, though regardless Thalia admired her resolve. The silence stretched and Thalia watched from the corner of her eye as someone shifted, unsure of whether to intervene or not. Potter and Ron began to stand up, but identical looks from Black and the fake-wolf froze them before they were even fully standing. Thalia shot her arm to the side without looking. Satisfaction curled around her as she heard the thud of a wand hitting the wooden floor and the familiar sound of sharp metal digging itself into wood.

“Holy fuck.” Ron whispered, eyes wide.

Thalia slowly turned to face the person who had dared to approach her, her dagger nailed on the wall right behind her. “Nymphadora Tonks. That was a warning, don’t make me actually hit you.”

“My name’s Tonks, not… that.”

Thalia’s smile was sharp as she moved behind Tonks and took back her dagger. “Tonks.” She met eyes with Black, who moved in front of the fake-wolf. “A Metamorphmagus, huh. I wonder, are you like the fake-wolf over there, Remus Lupin?—Just like him, closer to the gods than mortal magic, but still not quite far enough—just enough that with the right tools, his blood will turn into gold dust. Or are you completely mortal, with a goddess’ passed down blessing?”

“Fake-wolf?” Snape sneered, something mocking and disgusted in his tone. And from the way everyone stiffened, his tone did not go unnoticed.

Thalia raised an eyebrow calmly, raising the tip of the dagger that she hadn’t used to pin Tonks’ wand to the wall. Lazily, she pointed it at Lupin. It was made of steel, which would have been no use to a real Lycanthrope. However, luckily for Thalia, the fake-wolf was not a real Lycanthrope, and mortal metal could probably do just as much damage to him as silver would. Celestial bronze and imperial gold would work too, but there was no reason to pull that out. Not yet at least.

“Lupin, a fake-wolf—a false Lycanthrope,” she grinned, watching each person in front of her become more confused the longer she talked. “Unlike real Lycanthropes, Lupin and other fake-wolves like him unwillingly change during full moons, and only during full moons. They’re clearly not regular wolves — they have shorter snouts, more human-like eyes, and tufted tails where normal wolves have thick, straight tails. But they’re still human.” She sheathed her dagger, “Not monsters like true werewolves.”

“There are others?” Lupin whispered. “And they’re… different?”

“No one knows why. If we ever did, the knowledge was lost to time, but it was probably a magical mortal trying to play god and dealing with the consequences of it. No one but a god can replicate the true Lycanthrope curse. You and everyone like you are the result of a failed attempt.”

“What makes them different?” Black narrowed his eyes, tightening his hold on Lupin. “Why are they the real werewolves?”

Thalia shrugged, “No one, much less a mortal, can replicate a god’s curse. Whatever the magical lycanthrope… curse is, it is not a godly one. And as someone who has met both, I can say that true lycans are much more dangerous. They have no soul.” She leaned forward, meeting Lupin’s eyes. “When they die, they become dust. They vanish to the deepest part of the Underworld where they will slowly reform. They come back. They kill until they are killed. They reform. And again, and again, and again.”

The silence stretched and despite Black trying to get Lupin’s attention, his eyes never wavered from Thalia. “But you, Lupin, you have a soul. If I were to kill you right here right now, your soul would be judged and forever remain in the Underworld. Unless you choose rebirth. If given the chance.”

That caused everyone to stand up, wands raised and pointed at her. Thalia leaned back with a wide grin and a glint in her eyes that was both dangerous and amused, but never once breaking eye contact with Lupin.

“You.” Lupin searched her face, “you don’t think I’m a monster.”

“No.” For the first time, feeling something akin to pity or sympathy. “You are a mortal who got given bad cards and now have to deal with them, but you are no monster.” She turned around, ignoring the wands following her movements and picked up the letter once more. “I hunt monsters for a living, you are far from one.”

“The gods have come to a decision,” she waved the letter around, letting the silence envelop the room as the significance of the words sank in. “As the owner of Grimmauld Place and representative,” she met Black’s eyes making the underlying message clear, “of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, the gods have addressed this to you, Sirius Orion Black the Second. You may choose who knows the contents of the letter,” before Black could take it from her hands she snatched it back. Her expression was something fierce with a warning just under the surface. “Do not trust the wrong person Black. You will not like the repercussions if you do.”

With that final warning she handed the letter and left the kitchen, slamming the door with a flick of her wrist, and a snap of her fingers, she took a gamble and vanished from sight.